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Gunshots echoed through the street. Furious aliens were hot on their tail, and Morty gasped for air as he sprinted after Rick.
Buildings, mostly dilapidated and abandoned, surrounded them on all sides. Morty wove frantically between large pieces of rubble, trying to catch up, but ahead, Rick didn’t slow down. Morty’s foot caught on a jutting stone and he nearly tripped, barely managing to save himself in time, arms flailing out to the side. Balling his hands into fists, frustration bubbled just beneath the surface.
“What— what the fuck, Rick! T-t-this is insane!"
“Jesus, Morty, shut the fuck up! We’re gonna be fine!” Rick snapped, turning over his shoulder to briefly shoot Morty a glare.
“B-b-but Rick—!” Morty broke off with a screech of terror as a gunshot narrowly missed his shoulder.
Rick skidded to a halt and turned abruptly, disappearing down a side street. Morty pushed his legs to move faster, nearly crashing into the brick wall in his hurry to follow. Rick yanked him behind a dumpster moments before the aliens flew by, their screeches of fury ringing through the air. Sweat dripped down his forehead as Morty struggled to catch his breath, the sound slowly growing fainter.
“Let’s go.” Rick stood, hauling Morty to his feet by the back of his shirt with no warning. A noise of protest escaped him as Morty stumbled, barely managing to keep his balance before Rick was dragging him towards a narrow alleyway by the arm. A distant gunshot made Morty flinch, but it was too far away to pose a threat.
Morty exhaled a shaky breath, heart thudding in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his body. He could barely stand, muscles aching and legs trembling, but he finally turned to face Rick.
“F-fucking hell! W-why did you have to go and— a-and piss them off!”
Rick scowled. “Do you— do you have any idea what they were— they wanted— they were overcharging the hell out of the serum, Morty, and you’d have known that if you— if you actually listened to me for once!”
“Y-y-you’re always making things— making enemies out of— out of everyone!”
“Woah, Morty, me making enemies? What about all the— all the times you went and pissed someone off and I had to come in and, and clean up after you?” He took a deep swig from his flask, finally releasing his grip around Morty's arm and stalking away from him.
“T-t-that’s not the point, Rick,” Morty said, hurrying to catch up. “Y-y-y-you always— you’re constantly taking risks! Doing s-stuff to, to put us in danger!” Waving his arms furiously, Morty glared daggers into Rick’s back, almost wishing the man would turn and face him.
“God, Morty, why do you have to— you’ve gotta be so damn difficult all the time. Always making a big deal out of shit.” He tilted his flask back again, finding it empty, and shoved it into his coat pocket. “Would it hurt you to just chill out and go with the flow for once?”
Morty froze the moment he heard the words. His blood turned to ice. His legs didn’t listen to him. Rick kept walking, entirely unaware, not bothering to check if he was still following.
Rick continued talking. “Like, god, Morty. Always crowing about something or other. Y-you’re never— you always criticize my methods like I’m not the reason your dumb little ass is still alive.”
Finally seeming to notice Morty was no longer following, Rick stopped. Turning and raising his brow, the man scoffed. “W-what the fuck is your problem now? You tryin’ to make things harder? Trying to get caught?”
Opening his mouth to respond, Morty found he couldn’t get the words out. His breath caught in his throat, and he hadn’t realized until that moment his hands were shaking violently. Rick took a step towards him and Morty flinched away, back hitting the wall.
“The— the fuck is your deal, Morty?”
Stay! Go with the flow!
“Morty?”
Stop fighting me!
“Jesus, Morty, what—?”
Just let this happen.
Rick’s hand came down to rest lightly on his shoulder, and he was saying something, but Morty didn’t hear.
“Get the fuck off me!” Morty snarled, shoving at Rick’s chest with all the strength he could muster, more desperate than angry. He couldn’t breathe. Rick stumbled a few steps back, surprise evident on his face.
The world tilted sideways. Knees buckling, Morty hit the pavement hard. Pain exploded from his legs but he barely felt it, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder.
He fell forward on his hands. Bathroom tile, cold and smooth to the touch. Hands circling his wrists, tight enough to ache, tugging his hair, under his shirt. Trapped against the cistern of a toilet, grime clinging to his skin, water soaking his jeans—
“—orty! Morty!”
Rick crouched in front of him. They were in an alleyway. Pavement below him, a solid brick wall behind him. Not a toilet, not a bathroom.
His face was wet. It was so visceral, so real, panic so sharp that Morty couldn’t breathe.
“—gotta breathe, kid,” Rick was saying, the words finally beginning to register. Morty tried to shake his head. He couldn’t.
“Okay,” Rick sounded uncomfortable, “okay. You’re okay, kid, I got you,” Rick reached forward, maybe to grab his shoulder, but broke off when Morty flinched and shrank away, and he let his hand drop. “You’re— Morty, you’re safe. Calm— chill out.”
Morty couldn’t pull his eyes away from Rick’s hand, motionless, resting on his own knee, making no more attempts to reach for him. A strained, reedy sound rattled from his lungs. Cold sweat soaked his clothing and his body wouldn’t stop trembling. Everything was blurred at the edges, hazy and far away, as though he was floating somewhere just beyond his actual body.
Pavement. Bricks. He was in an alleyway. Open sky above him. Fresh air. Rick.
Gradually, his breathing slowed. His lungs beginning to work properly, the violent tremors settling to something milder, though he wasn’t sure how much time actually passed before he could breathe somewhat normally.
All the energy seemed to drain out of him at once. Morty, without really thinking, reached forward to grab Rick’s sleeve in a white-knuckled grip, hands shaky and sweating. “S-s-sorry,” he forced out, wheezing. “I-I-I don’t know—”
“Shut up, Morty,” Rick interrupted, but it was soft, softer than Morty could remember his voice sounding in a long time.
They sat there until Morty’s wheezy gasps finally shifted into the realm of regular breathing, until he finally felt steady enough that he trusted his voice a little more.
“Rick— I-I’m sorry—” he said again, quieter, but Rick wasn't having it.
“Quit your whiny little apologies, Morty,” Rick said, finally getting to his feet, brushing his knees off, and holding his hand out. Morty hesitated only for a moment before grabbing it and allowing himself to be pulled off the ground. “Let’s just, let’s get out of here before those bastards come back,” Rick said, gesturing vaguely in the air.
“B-but, the serum—?”
Rick waved him off. “Screw that,” he said, reaching into an interior pocket of his lab coat and fishing around for a moment before he pulled out a luminous white crystal. Morty’s eyes widened. “Nabbed it from t-them earlier — way better than the— their shitty serum anyway.”
“T-that's awesome, Rick!” As the man tilted the crystal in the sun, a beam of light caught one of the facets and it glinted brightly. “W-w-what can you use it for?”
“Ehh...” Rick stared at it a moment, weighing it in his hands, before shrugging. “Haven’t figured it out yet. Here, carry it for me, would you?” He tossed it to Morty, who scrambled to catch it against his chest before he could drop it. “Lets fuckin’ dip.”
“R-right,” Morty said, quickly following after Rick, hurrying to keep up with his brisk pace as they turned down random alleys and side roads. Everything looked the same to Morty, but Rick seemed to know exactly where he was going, and finally, their parked ship came into view.
“There she is,” Rick said, patting the metal as Morty climbed into the passenger seat, strapping his seat belt. Rick slid into the driver's seat, bee-lining for the half-empty bottle of liquor still discarded on the floor. As he re-filled his flask, Morty turned the crystal over in his hands, admiring the way it sparkled various colors as it caught different angles of light. Rick pulled the steering wheel back, and they were soon shooting through the atmosphere and into the vacuum of space.
They were silent for a couple minutes, only the sound of clinking bottles and the humming engine filling the air. Morty sat, back straight and body tense. He could practically feel Rick brewing in thought beside him. Trying to ignore Rick watching him from the corner of his eye, Morty stared at the stars and planets streaking by, mindlessly fidgeting with the crystal in his hands.
“So,” Rick finally broke the silence, and Morty went very still. “What’s— what was all that about?”
“I-it was— it wasn’t— it’s not important,” Morty stammered quickly, placing the crystal somewhere by his feet so he could grip his knees, one leg bouncing; a nervous tic he’d never quite been able to shake.
Rick rolled his eyes, taking a swig from the flask and spinning the wheel to swerve around a small asteroid. Sweat beaded on Morty’s forehead, leg bouncing faster. “You had a— a full panic attack back there, Morty.”
Morty tried to laugh, but it came out strangled and high-pitched. Running a hand through his hair, he flicked his eyes to Rick, then quickly back to the windshield. “Y-yeah, um. G-guess I— guess I did. Huh.”
Rick let out a long-suffering sigh, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Was it the aliens? The shooting? You’ve— you’ve gotta give me something to work with here, Morty.”
“N-no! Rick, it was, it was nothing, okay?” Morty shook his head quickly, struck suddenly with the irrational fear that Rick would scoff at him, call him a pussy, berate him for being so weak, no longer wanting to take him on adventures. And a deeper, darker part of him wondered, if Rick knew the truth, would he even care? Or would he think it was just a stupid, idiotic fear — nothing had actually happened, after all. There wasn’t any real reason for Morty to be so afraid, he’d gotten away in time—
His thoughts cut off abruptly when the ship lurched. Rick jerked the wheel to swerve around some floating debris, and Morty was flung against the passenger-side door. Gripping the cushions of the seat beneath him until his knuckles went white, Morty took a shuddering breath, willing his heart to stop racing.
“Clearly it was something, Morty, god,” Rick said, voice hardening, taking on an edge of frustration. “Y-y-you think I’m a fuckin’ idiot? You’ve never done that before!” He jerked the wheel to the opposite side, with more force than necessary to dodge another piece of debris. “What if those aliens were still chasing us, Morty, huh? Did’ya think about that? Y-you little twerp.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter, Rick!” Morty burst out, frustrated more with how shaky his voice sounded rather than what Rick had said — because he was right, Morty had put them in danger. “It was stupid! It was fucking stupid, okay, Rick? Just let it go!” Morty was breathing hard, and rubbed at his eyes with far more force than necessary.
“Jesus,” Rick huffed, “chill the fuck out, Morty, it’s not—”
“No, Rick! Y-you know what? You’re right. You’re right! I did put us in danger! All because of a stupid— all because— because I’m fucking useless, right?”
“Calm down—” Rick tried to interject, but Morty ignored him, barrelling on.
“You say it all the fucking time, Rick— ‘Morty, you idiot, you’re so useless, all you ever do is fuck everything up’ — and you, you know what, Rick? You’re right!” Every ounce of anger and self-hatred that had been bubbling under the surface for months finally seemed to explode out at once. “M-m-maybe it was my fault! Maybe I was asking for it, because I can’t do anything right, can I, Rick? Maybe I should have just let it happen! Gone with the fucking flow!”
Morty gasped, breaking off with a choked sob, desperately trying to stifle it, but to no avail. Rick had gone quiet. Refusing to look at him, Morty squeezed his eyes shut, clasping a hand over his mouth, shoulders hitching. The boiling anger seemed to all drain away at once.
This was absolutely mortifying. He waited for Rick to laugh at him, to agree, for him to do anything, but it never came.
“Morty.” Rick’s voice had gone quiet and very careful all of the sudden. “What… what're you talking about?”
Morty didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Choking on a sob, face wet with tears, Morty finally gave up trying to hold them back. Shoulders shaking, he hunched forward in his seat, hands covering his face in embarrassment, as though that would hide him. Each breath came in a stuttering inhale, nose clogged and the beginnings of a headache pounding at the base of his skull.
He felt pathetic. An itch of discomfort persisted just underneath Morty’s skin from Rick’s presence beside him, and he was entirely too aware of how much of a mess he looked. Tears rolled down his face, hot and itchy against his skin.
Some deep, instinctual revulsion to crying in front of Rick was what finally brought Morty back to the present, shuddering sobs gradually shifting to silent tears he struggled to blink away. Wiping at his face with the back of one hand, Morty tried to apologize — out of instinct more than anything — voice coming out thick and broken. Rick, mercifully, stayed silent, waving off his apology.
Morty wiped at his face with his shirt, grimacing with disgust at the snot. A tissue was pushed in front of his face and Morty startled slightly, looking up to see Rick holding it out, avoiding his eyes. Taking it, he blew his nose wetly, wiping the rest of the tears away with his palm.
His eyes were puffy and hot, tear tracks burning and pulling his skin tight, but Morty had finally calmed down. He was entirely spent. Slumped against the seat, he looked out the window.
“W-w-we’ve been driving for a long time — shouldn’t— shouldn’t we be home by now?” Morty’s voice was shaky, weak, but stronger than it had been minutes earlier, which he was a little grateful for.
“Do you want to go home?” Rick said, finally.
Morty thought for a moment. “N-not really.”
“Yeah. Thought so.”
Morty picked at his fingernails, glancing surreptitiously at Rick every once in a while. He suddenly felt awkward. Rick wasn’t talking. Surely, he had to have figured it out by now. He was probably disgusted—
“Morty.” He flinched slightly. When he finally looked over, for real this time, Rick had an unexpectedly grave expression. “I— that isn’t true—” Rick began, and when Morty opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t really sure what, Rick shot him a look. Morty shut his mouth, letting Rick continue. “I don’t— I don’t think like that.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, Rick ran his fingers through his hair. “And I’m… I’m sorry you thought that way of me—”
“It’s okay,” Morty said quickly, but Rick glared at him.
“Shut it,” he snapped. “It’s not. I should’ve— I should’ve realized. It wasn’t your fault, not at all, M-Morty.”
Tears pricked Morty’s eyes. Rick looked as though the words physically pained him to say, but it was so unlike Rick that Morty was having a difficult time believing it was actually his grandfather beside him. The brief, absurd thought that maybe Rick was actually a robot flashed through his mind, unbidden.
“B-b-but he said—”
“Who gives a fuck what that shitface said, Morty! He’s fuckin’ dead, that’s all that matters.”
“What?!”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Dumbass. You think I’d— you think someone like that deserves to live? Even I have morals, Morty.”
Morty couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit at that. “T-thanks,” he said quietly, before glancing away, unable to hold Rick’s gaze any longer.
“W-whatever.” Rick took a swig from his flask.
Morty, finally, let himself relax against the seat of the ship, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion as he watched distant planets pass in a blur, the familiar, quiet hum of the ship’s engine filling the air. The tightness in his chest finally, if only somewhat, loosened as he turned Rick’s words over in his head.
It wasn’t his fault. And it wasn’t Rick’s fault either, Morty knew, though he didn’t bother trying to say it aloud because he didn’t think Rick would listen anyway.
He let his eyes fall closed, finally, too sapped of energy to do much of anything else, and was soon fast asleep.