Archive of Our Own

“Uhhh, I thought this guy was in prison? He’s still wearing that tacky eyepatch?”

“I don’t know, it’s kinda nice. Maybe—”

“No, Jerry. You are not getting an eyepatch.”

Morty was standing with his hands tied behind his back. He doesn’t get why they’re tied since he could just easily break out of them, but that’s not the point. 

He’s standing in a house he never thought he’d see again, seeing a family he thought he left behind, and standing in between the two assholes that brought him back here.

He sighed. This is so humiliating.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Just a couple hours prior, or more, Morty doesn’t know, he was in his cell just finished eating his last slop of the day. 

He wasn’t someone he’d call “quick to revenge”. If somebody crossed him, he usually just let them be. Why bother giving them the time of day when he could just do something else?

Morty scratched at the wall with the blade in his finger. The stone was littered with schematics and calculations and other science-y stuff.

I’ll fucking get you, Rick. I’ll fucking kill you. 

But Rick Sanchez has always been an exception.

The moment he arrived in prison, he was already planning countless ways to enact his revenge. Not only did Rick destroy the Omega Device and steal all of his shit, he had the audacity to leave a picture of his bare ass. 

He was lucky the time beings didn’t try to dissect him and get rid of his body modifications. They didn’t try removing the eyepatch either, said “it’d be rude” because they thought he was just missing an eye. For beings that protected the fabric of time, they aren’t very smart.

Oh well, that works for him.

And so, here he is. Planning Rick C-137’s demise. Maybe he’ll steal all of his gadgets, maybe he’ll destroy his entire dimension, maybe he’ll torture his Morty and force him to watch.

No, that’s ridiculous. Ricks don’t care about their Mortys, he remembered. There’d be no point.

He says that, but he also remembers Rick crying when he saw his life with Morty on the monitor. He also remembers Rick creating a foolproof suit to keep him safe. Most Ricks would’ve just left their Mortys or worse, let them die. 

But Rick C-137 never did that to his Morty (Prime Morty, was it?). Hell, they were even holding onto each other and supporting one another at the end of their last fight.

There was something different about Rick C-137, something that made him stand out from the rest.

…But he’s still a Rick, no matter how differently he acts. 

He shouldn’t let his guard down, he did that already and look where that got him. In prison. Fucking time prison.

He looked towards the entrance of the cell.

The prison wasn’t very loud. Sure, it can get lively in the mornings, but it was peaceful at night. 

Actually, to be honest, prison wasn’t very different from where he lived.

It was peaceful outside of the curve. He was alone, doing his own thing, living in an encased world, and tired. Other than being stuck in a cell, nothing changed.

He wondered if it ever would.

“Woh-ho-ho! M-Morty, come check this out—he looks like the expired yogurt in the fridge.” A voice cackled in a manner he knew all too well. He got into a fighting stance immediately.

“Come on, Rick. C-couldn’t you wait like thirty seconds before insulting hi—woah, he really does look like the expired yogurt in the fridge.”

Morty stared at the two figures. What the fuck. 

He rubbed his eyes- eye. “Did somebody drug my food? Why am I hallucinating?” 

“Oh god, I wish this was just a hallucination. But we’re as real as it gets.”

The old man, Rick C-137, took out a flask and gulped it down. “How’s prison, d-diiipshiiit?”

—

“W-we had to fight the time guys and stuff. It was crazy, man.” Prime Morty said as he sat down at the dinner table. 

“Yeah, kindly telling the guards w-we’ll ‘set him straight’ and ‘keep a good eye on him’ was sooo difficult.” Rick walked straight past them and sat at the head of the table. He immediately stuffed his face full with food.

“Rick!”

“So you guys just did a bunch of puppy eyes until the guards said ‘okay’? That’s so lame.” Summer pulled out her phone and started texting whatever friends she had left.

“Hey, at least they didn’t make an enemy out of time people!” Jerry cried.

“I’m just glad they didn’t resort to fighting for once.” Beth poured herself a drink.

Morty looked over at the family. He’s spent way more time with Ricks and Mortys than Beths, Summers, and Jerrys, so it was a little weird. And disgustingly familiar. 

The house looked the same as his own. Some picture frames on the walls looked a little different but it was still similar enough. The dining room was the same too, save for an extra chair beside Beth.

Morty’s expression soured. Just being here feels suffocating. 

“Hey,” Beth called out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Come sit down with us.” She pulled the extra chair out. “This is usually space me’s seat but you can borrow it for the time being.”

Morty put aside his questions for what she meant by “space me” and took a step back. “You guys literally beat me up and you want me to eat with you?”

“We beat up Rick all the time and he’s still here.” Jerry comments.

“When the fuck have I ever let you beat me up?” Rick snapped back in seconds. 

“I-I was talking about the family, not just me!” 

Beth ignores their bickering and continues talking to Morty. “What- uh, what do we call you? Rick said you’re ‘Evil Morty’ but it feels kinda rude to call you that. Ooh! What about Eyepatch Morty?”

Morty shrugged. “That’s usually what the Citadel called me.” That, or Mr. President.

“K-kind of a mouthful.” Prime Morty unhelpfully comments.

Morty narrowed his eyes. “You have your mouth full. Bailing me out ‘cause you felt bad? What, you trying to be the ‘nice’ Morty now?” 

Prime Morty glared at him back. “We could’ve left you there, you know.” 

Morty huffed. “Better than being stuck here.”

“W-wow, jeez. Sorry for trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Oh my god, I thought it’d be fun to have a cooler Morty but he’s just as dumb as our Morty. I’m out.” And just like that, Summer got up and left to go up to her room. Typical.

Beth clapped her hands together. “Okay! Boys, calm down. Morty, just eat your food. Eyepatch Morty, come sit at the table and eat with us.” She gestures to the seat beside her. Beths always act like they’ve got everything under control but in truth, they never do. It’s sad to watch.

Morty looked at the remaining family with a sigh. Was this really it? Is this what his life will be like now? Stuck with some dysfunctional family?

Jerry perked up. “How about we call him Em? Y’know, short for Evil Morty. E and M. Em.” And Jerrys live in their own little world. Morty sighed.

Rick gave him an annoyed look. “Yeah, real clever, Jerry. Y-you should—burp—name your grandsons next.” 

“It’s not a bad idea.” Prime Morty interjected. “Wh-what do you think, Ev- uh, other me?”

Morty didn’t want to be a part of this conversation for much longer. Instead, he turned to leave. “I don’t care, call me whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

“Hey! Y-you think you can just leave?” Rick cried out. “W-we had a whole terms and agreements thing with the time guys! If we fuck this up, we’ll all be in prison!” 

“I know, that’s why I’m not leaving. That’d be stupid.” Morty snapped back. “If da—Jerry is anything like other Jerry’s then he’s got his own private room. I’m taking it.”

“What? But I use that room!” Jerry cried.

“Let him stay there honey, it’s better than sleeping in the living room.” Beth patted him on the shoulder.

“Ugh.” Rick rolled his eyes. “Morty, go with him.”

“What?” Both Morty’s said in unison. 

“Evil you needs to have a babysitter, r-remember? Might go around b-breaking shit.”

Morty groaned. “Oh my god, I’m not gonna do anything. I can’t do anything, I don’t even have a portal gun.”

Rick huffs. “L-like you can’t just create one.”

“In Jerry’s room?”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Rick went back to eating. “Whatever. Morty, stay.”

“I feel like I’ve just been insulted…” Jerry mutters.

Prime Morty shoves a spoonful of food in his mouth. “He could escape from the window…”

Morty’s expression turned sour. “You brought me here and yet you’re worried I’ll escape? That’s rich.”

“Are you fucking—? Ugh. Hang on.” Rick begrudgingly went into the garage. After a couple of mechanical noises, Jerry’s room window suddenly got covered by robotic walls. Using his eyepatch, Morty saw that Rick covered that whole section of the house with protective stuff.

Fucking classic.

Morty’s lips twisted into a faint smile. “From one prison to another, huh?”

“Fuck off already. You’re making the meat taste bad.”

With one last glare, Morty finally shut the door, leaving him alone in this shockingly tidy room. 

Jerry suddenly raised a brow. “Hey wait a second, weren’t his hands tied?” 

“It’s Evil Morty, Jerry. As if he’d let something as dumb as handcuffs restrain him. I-I know I wouldn’t.”

Morty swallowed. “Y-you sure he can’t escape that room?”

“With what little tech he has, I’d just be impressed.”

—

Morty pressed his back against the door, his eyes trained directly on the ground. 

A shaky breath left his mouth. This can’t be real. It can’t. I have to be dreaming.

Morty prided himself on being able to leave, on escaping to the outside of the curve. Nobody was there to wake him up for school, nobody was there to barge into his room for something, and nobody was there to drag him out of bed in the middle of the night for another stupid adventure. It was just him.

Just him and him alone. 

But now he was here, back in this damn house. Back with the people he thought he’d never speak to again. Back to this hell.

“Fuck!” Morty yelled as he slammed his fist against the nearest wall. 

“Rick C-137…” He muttered. “No, not just him. Morty. Prime Morty. They did this.” 

They’re the ones who purposefully got him out of jail. They brought him back to this place while knowing all he ever wanted was to run away from it all. If they wanted revenge, they definitely succeeded. 

A bitter laugh escaped him. And they called him “evil”? These two fucks went out of their way to get him out only to throw him back into another cage. 

Over and over, he’s been stuck in cage after cage—what the hell will it take for him to finally be free?

To finally get out. To never see another Morty, another Rick, Summer, Beth, or Jerry ever again. To be free.

He sucked in a breath. Why won't the universe just let me live in peace?

Why? Because he’s a Morty? Because every Rick needs a Morty and every Morty needs fucking a Rick? Because Morty’s can’t spend one second on their own without seeking approval from their fucked up grandpas?

Like a dog. You can beat them up time and time again and they’ll still come running back.

And he’s back! He’s back home. With a brand new family and everything. Isn’t that great? 

He’s not alone anymore.

The door suddenly cracked open. 

Morty spun towards the door, ready to take action until he realized who it was.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just-” Jerry stammered as he reluctantly entered the room. “Oh, god—I should’ve knocked. I’m sorry. But, uh, if you’re gonna be living here, I’ll just take my stuff…” He bowed his head in apology and moved to presumably get the “stuff” he’s talking about.

Morty stared at him briefly then sighed. Yeah, he heard me. The rest of the family probably did too. Great.

Ignoring that fact, he crossed his arms and spoke. “It’s fine, you don’t need to take anything. I’ll just use this room for sleeping for the time being.”

Jerry stopped in his tracks, surprised by Morty’s calm response. “For the time being?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’ll have my own place soon enough.” Morty clarified as he went over to the couch.

“You’re leaving? I thought Rick and Mor- our Morty had a whole—”

“As long as I’m in their general vicinity, it should be fine.” Morty rearranged the cushions in an effort to make the couch a little less miserable to sleep on. "I can’t leave, but I don’t need to live in your house.” 

Jerry pursed his lips. “Why not?”

Morty doesn’t look back. “Because I’m not your son.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Why bail me out? Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you both?”

Rick took a swig of his flask. “First of all, it’s stupid to think you aren’t planning some dumb—dumb fucking revenge thing. And second, Morty’s the one who wanted to bail you out. Not me.”

Morty cocked a brow. Well, that was surprising. Prime Morty hated his guts, didn’t he? His last goodbye to him was literally a slap in the face. Why would he want to get him out of jail? 

Morty narrowed his eyes. What’s the game here?

He looked at Prime Morty expectantly, to which the boy averted his eyes and nervously rubbed his neck. His expression soured. It was so annoying seeing Mortys act like nervous wrecks. Grow a spine, god dammit.

Prime Morty started. “Well, to be honest, I-I was pretty worried about wh-what you’d do to us once you’re out, so…”

“You broke me out to ensure I couldn’t? Cool, what’s the real reason?”

Prime Morty fidgeted with his hands, like he was trying to find the right words. 

“I-I don’t know.”

Morty paused.

“You don’t know?” He repeated. In the background, Rick slapped a palm against his forehead.

Prime Morty faltered briefly. “Y-yeah, I don’t know. I just.. i-it felt wrong to leave you like that, y’know?”

Something bitter began to churn in his gut. Morty scoffed. “Seriously? It felt wrong and that’s why you bailed me out?”

“Yeah, p-pretty stupid, right?” Rick adds.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not talking to you.” Morty snaps. 

With a sharp inhale, he faced Prime Morty once again. “So that’s it? You’re such a nice guy, you’d even bail your enemy out of prison?”

Prime Morty crossed his arms. “No, asshole. I-I’m anything but a nice guy.”

Morty hummed. That’s definitely true.

“It’s just…” Prime Morty tried to explain once again. Morty pinched his nose bridge.

“I know what you’ve done. I-I know you’ve killed a lot of people, and I know you would’ve killed me and Rick if you got out of here on your own.”

He paused.

“But I just.. I couldn’t leave you there. I-it didn’t feel right.”

Prime Morty looked him straight in the eyes. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It’s been three days since Morty began living with the Smiths. 

It’s been fine. Morty tried his best to stay out of everyone’s hair and he mostly just stayed in Jerry’s man cave. Thankfully, the family respected that, only calling him for meals. Other than that, it’s been relatively peaceful. Jerry even let him use his computer!

“Em?” Beth knocked. Oh yeah, they settled on calling him Em. Not very creative but Morty didn’t bother coming up with a better name. “Did you eat breakfast yet?” 

Morty kept his eyes trained on the screen. “No.”

Beth opened the door and let herself in. She held a plate with three sandwiches. “Here, have some.”

Morty briefly looked over to inspect the sandwiches. He grimaced. Ugh, pickles. 

He turned back to the computer and continued whatever it was he was doing. “I’m fine.”

Beth gestured to the plate. “It’s okay, just take one.”

“I said I’m fine. Just give them to Summer or something.” 

“Em.” Beth continued to press. 

“I’m busy.” But Morty shot her down.

With a heavy sigh, Beth admitted defeat and left the room. 

Yeah, it’s been peaceful, but this family is annoyingly sensitive.

*

Morty left his room to grab a cup of water. The living room is abnormally loud and since curiosity killed the cat, he quietly went over to find out what was going on.

“Do it, Jenniden! Do it!”

“Nooo, come on! Plibbo, get up! Y-you’re better than this!”

Upon entering the room, he quickly found that he should not have killed the cat. Summer and Prime Morty were watching.. two aliens do a wrestling match? Interdimensional cable? I guess some Smith families have that.

After watching and listening to the two siblings scream for about two minutes, he turned to leave.

Unfortunately, Summer noticed. “Hey! Get in on this! It’s like a death match thing and Jenniden’s in the lead.”

“O-only because Plibbo slipped!” 

“Don’t be a sore loser, Morty. It’s sad.” Then Summer perked up once more. “She just cracked Plibbo’s skull so we’re waiting to see if Plibbo will—”

“Didn’t ask.” Once Summer started to ramble, Morty left pretty quickly. 

“Wha-” Summer exclaimed. She glared in Morty’s direction and yelled. “This is why you’re called ‘Evil’!” 

*

DING-DONG.

Beth raised a brow. “Jerry, did you order something?”

“Why do you ask me first?” 

Without looking up from her phone, Summer answers. “Because you’re the only one in the family that still orders from Amazon.”

“Y-yeah, we have the entire galaxy to shop in and you still choose Amazon.” 

Jerry frowns. “Hey! Amazon is reliable and non-dangerous.” He clears his throat. “No, I did not order anything.”

“It’s mine.” Like a student hearing the bell, Morty steps out of his room and makes his way towards the door.

Jerry stares at him. “Wh- but how did you order?”

Morty gave a careless shrug. “You people aren’t very good at locking your phones.” He says as he opens the door, disappearing into the outside.

Jerry’s expression twists into one of horror. “He uses our phones? Since when did he use our phones!?”

Summer started frantically scrolling through every crevice of her device. “I swear to god, if he touched something—” 

Morty peaks his head back through the doorway. “Your phone has no use to me, Summer. Why would I want to see the fifty boys you’re texting?”

“Fifty?” Prime Morty turns to Summer.

“He’s just exaggerating!” Summer defended. She then saw the look of disapproval on Jerry’s face and groaned. “You think I want fifty boys, dad!? Texting one is already hard enough! Jeez!”

Beth gets up and heads for the door. “Em, get back here! You can’t just use our phones without permission! If you want to buy something, tell us.” 

Morty waves his hand dismissively from outside. “Uh-huh. I’ll be in the backyard, don’t bother me.” And he leaves, hands full with boxes.

Silence settles over the room.

Jerry pulls out his phone. “I-I think we need to change our passwords.” 

Prime Morty sighs. “Don’t bother, he’ll probably hack it anyways.”

Beth massages the bridge of her nose. “Jerry, check your balance. And go see what he bought. I don’t want another ‘Morty blows his closet up’.”

“It was one time!” 

*

“Oh wow, did you make this, Em?”

Jerry had gone into the backyard to clean the pool when he spotted a mini shack. Morty was on the roof of it, hammering something in place.

Morty stopped mid swing. “I thought I said don’t bother me.”

“I know, but we needed to check what you were doing. Regular parent stuff.” 

Probably something Beth told him to do. Morty continued hammering the nails in place. “You seem to forget that I’m not your son.” 

Jerry gave him a small smile. “You’re a version of him, that’s enough.”

Morty paused.

“So if I killed and replaced your Morty, that’s fine?”

Jerry frowned. “Oh, come on, don’t do that.”  

“Can’t answer, huh? That’s fine.” Morty couldn’t help but huff in amusement at Jerry’s lack of response. He then turned to face him. “Okay, you checked. You can leave now.”

Jerry looked a little nervous but he stayed in place. Morty tilted his head.

“Y’know, I can’t tell if you’re jaded or your world is just sad.” Jerry crossed his arms.

Morty drew back. Excuse me?

His grasp tightened on the hammer. “Fuck off, Jerry. You’re like a child, always saying pointless shit.”

Jerry flinched, a dejected frown on his lips. 

Morty paused. 

He snapped his attention back to the roof. “Once this shed is finished, I’ll start living here instead. You’ll have your room back soon.”

Jerry doesn’t answer immediately. 

“...Okay.”

*

With the exterior of his shack done, Morty was busy making an interior that he can actually live in. Although, I’ll probably still sleep in Jerry’s room for a little while longer.

“Woah, i-it really is a shack.” Prime Morty marveled as he slowly approached the structure.

Ugh, that voice… Morty repressed the urge to groan. “What do you want?”

Prime Morty faltered. “O-oh! Uh, I was just wondering i-if you’d like to come with me on an adventure?” 

Seeing Morty’s skeptical expression, Prime elaborated. “I-I sometimes go on solo adventures for fun or—”

“To clean up Rick’s mess? Yeah, I got it. I did that too.” Morty crossed his arms. “Your point?”

Prime Morty glared at him but he continued anyway. “You don’t leave the house, o-or I guess—you can’t leave the house, s-so I thought this would be a nice opportunity to get a change of scenery for a bit.”

Morty was tempted to decline, to laugh in his face at how sad he was, asking a version of himself to go hang out somewhere. 

But a change of scenery would be nice. 

As Morty continued to stare at him in silence, Prime’s confidence slowly went down the drain. 

“I’ll just go…” He muttered, turning back to—

“Where are we going?”

Prime immediately spun back around. “The Sloroz dimension! Have to… clear up a misunderstanding Rick made.” He awkwardly laughed.

Morty thought about it for a moment. Sloroz dimension.. there’s not much there, but I guess I could get some of their materials. They’re pretty sturdy.

“Alright, sure. I’ll go.”

Prime beamed. “A-awesome! It’s not too far, so let’s just take my bike.” 

Morty hummed. Because of convenience or because Rick told you not to use the portal gun around me just in case? A passing thought went through, but he didn’t pay it much attention and just followed Prime.

“I-it’ll be a tight fit.”

“Eh, we’re barely the size of Summer. Should be fine.”

It was terribly quiet on the ship, with Prime Morty driving and Morty in the backseat.

Prime flexed his fingers over the wheel. “Sooo, uh, did you really insert wires into your eye—?”

“Either shut up or I’m taking the wheel.”

Prime grumbled under his breath. “Asshole...”

Once they made it to their destination, Morty instantly got out of the ship and made his way to the nearest materials shop.

“Woah, woah, woah! Wh-where are you going?” Prime called out, barely having one foot off the pedal. 

“Never said I’d come with you.” Morty kept walking. “You were just my ride. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

He stopped in his tracks, looking back. “Meet up in an hour?”

Prime had a frustrated look on his face. Morty narrowed his eyes. Did he seriously think I came with him just to hang out? That we'd prance around holding hands together? That’s just extra sad. 

Eventually, Prime sighed in defeat. “Whatever, man. But if you try to run away—”

“Rick will find me. Yeah, yeah, I know. He probably put some tracking device on me while I was sleeping or something.” 

He gave a small wave and started walking again. “Bye.”

Prime waved back and went the opposite way.

A couple minutes later, he stopped. “W-wait, Rick did what?”

*

Morty was so glad he came with Prime Morty to the Sloroz dimension. He managed to get his hands on some pretty good materials.

Currently, he was sitting on the dining table creating some stuff for his shack. The Smith’s went out for family therapy (that was shocking to hear) so he got the whole house to himself. 

The house was quiet for the first time and wow he didn’t realize how much he missed it. 

It was nice to be able to relax, to let his guard down and have his eyepatch off. It was getting pretty annoying seeing tech screens all the time. 

He hummed to himself, adjusting some components.

If I snoop around, I might be able to find some other stuff I could use. Knowing Rick, there’s probably a dozen gadgets lying around that he deemed useless. Whatever, I’ll take what I can get.

Right now, the shack’s just made out of wood so it’d be nice to get it more structured and safe. The family’s always in danger of getting attacked, after all. Ooh, a bunker would be good too. But that implies I’m staying long-term.. well, I guess I am. Finding a plot hole in the agreements will take some time. Plus, I need to have sturdy footing before I try anything. I’ll just focus on what I can do for now…

It went on like this for a couple more minutes before the garage door opened. 

“M-Morty?” Rick called out, staggering through the doorway.

Morty stiffened. Shit, he totally forgot Rick was here. They “needed someone to supervise him” so Rick volunteered to stay. 

Morty took a deep breath and continued working on his device. “Wrong one. They’re at therapy—”

“W-we—we gotta go, Morty!” Rick stammered as he made his way to Morty. “The.. the harmatrons! I pissed them off Morty. Th-they’re gonna do what harmatrons do and harm! We gotta go, Morty!”

Morty scooted backwards. His palms felt sweaty. “Of course you’re fucking drunk…” He grumbled to himself, shaking his head. “Rick, I’m not your Morty.”

“S-sure you are, buddy!” Rick wobbled over.

Morty stumbled out of his seat. “No, I’m not. I’m Evil Morty. Your grandson is at therapy.” He gritted his teeth. “Something you need.”

Rick barely seemed to register his words and instead, grabs Morty by the arm and pulls him close. “Y—burp—you’re my little grandson, Morty.”

Morty yelped, frantically fighting against Rick’s grip. “Get the fuck off me! I’m not your grandson!” He lands a kick on Rick’s leg, causing him to groan.

But instead of pulling away, Rick just wraps his arms around Morty into a tight embrace. 

Morty freezes in place.

“I-I’m sorry for being such a piece of shit g—burp—grandpa. Y-you deserve more than this.”

Morty shook his head, regaining his senses. “Get off me!”

Rick gently pats Morty’s back. “You’re.. y-you’re a good kid, Morty. M-my little junebug.”

It was getting hard to breathe. “D-don’t… don’t fucking call me that—”

Rick leaned in close to Morty’s ear, his breath smelling of alcohol. “G-grandpa loves you, Morty.”

*

Morty was in his shack, continuing to make the device.

It was quiet. The only things he could hear were the sound of his own breathing and the clanking of parts joining together. 

It was nice. Nobody was there to bother him anymore. Just the way he likes it.

Knock, knock.

“Em? Are you in there?”

Without taking his eyes off of what he was doing, he used one hand and tapped his eyepatch, allowing him to cancel out any sounds within a three meter radius.

I should’ve just worked in the shack in the first place. All my stuff is here so it’s easier to make the adjustments I want. I should get Prime Morty to bring me to more places. Some Fleup gems would be useful for some of the tech I wanna make. 

I need to find a way out of here as soon as possible. Living in a Smith family’s backyard is just a new level of low. If I pretend to act like Morty, I could probably steal some stuff in Rick’s garage. 

One of the pieces cracked.

No, Rick probably made specific security measures using my DNA to make sure I wouldn’t do something like that. Could I blackmail Morty? Not possible, he could just hide behind Rick and let him do everything.

Same thing with the other family members. They have Rick to rely on. There’s nothing I can do. 

He stared at the broken piece in his hands.

Morty took a shaky breath. Relax. This isn’t permanent. 

He’ll figure something out. It’ll take some time, but he will. He’ll get out eventually.

Straightening his back, he began fixing the device. For now, I just need to keep my priorities in order. The main thing I need to focus on is how to get more materials. 

I could pretend to be on my best behavior. If I do that, maybe they’ll let me go out on my own. Manipulating Morty is risky but not impossible. Summer only does what she wants so maybe I could form a good rapport with her then get her to do my bidding. It’s probably best to steer clear from Beth and Jerry. Jerry has no use to me and Beth will always side with Rick so I can’t just—

Something warm suddenly landed on his shoulder.

Morty snapped around with his palm raised and ready to fire.

It was Beth with her hands raised in defense. Her mouth was moving but nothing was coming out. Oh.

Morty pressed his eyepatch again to regain the ability to hear.

“—It’s me!” Beth cried. He didn't need to ask how Beth got in, one look behind her and he can already see the culprit. Standing and alive, Rick Sanchez.

Seeing Morty calming down, Beth regained her composure. “Em, we have to talk.” 

Morty spun back around to continue working. “Sure, what about?”

“No, look at me, young man. We will have a serious conversation.”

Morty sighed. “I can have a serious conversation while working on—woah!”

Morty found himself back in the house, standing alone with Beth in the living room. 

“You can’t just drag me around like I’m your fucking Morty.” He spat out.

Beth had her arms crossed. “Well, tough luck. It seemed like that was the only way to get you to listen.”

Morty rubbed his eye. “Okay, you got my attention. What do you want?”

Beth looked at him incredulously. “Em, you blew a hole in the ceiling of our house. What do you mean ‘what do you want’?” She pointed towards the very obvious laser beam-shaped hole on the ceiling of the dining room.

Morty only shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry that I damaged your house or whatever, but it’s not a big deal. Can’t Rick just take care of that?”

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You blew Rick’s head off!”

And Morty just hummed. “And he’s back now, isn’t he?”

Beth massaged the bridge of her nose. “Oh my god… okay, no. We are not doing this.”

She looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “Em, I know it’s been hard living here, but that does not give you an excuse to damage our house and harm our family.” 

“I already said I was sorry.” He crossed his arms. “Besides, Rick had it coming. I was just minding my own business, doing my own thing, when he suddenly came over and ruined it.”

Beth stared at him. “He said he hugged you.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“He wasn’t trying to hurt you at all. He was drunk.” She insisted.

Morty laughed. “Oh, and that excuses everything?”

“That’s not the point, Morty!”

Morty stilled. 

Huh. Okay. 

The whole week, everyone made sure to differentiate the two Mortys, whether it be through nicknames like “Em” and “our Morty” or straight up calling him Evil/Eyepatch Morty. 

But never Morty. Never just Morty. 

Beth opened her mouth to take it back but she didn’t. 

Morty’s chest tightened.

“Listen, Morty.” Beth crouched down, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. “You’re hurt. I can see that.”

Gee, thanks. Morty’s expression soured.

Beth continued. “We don't know what happened to you or what you’ve been through but you're here now and you can’t change that.”

Morty scoffs. “I don't even want to be here—”

“Yeah, nobody wants to be here.” Beth interrupts. “My kids sure as hell never asked to be here and yet here they are.”

Morty went quiet.

Beth doesn’t stop. “You want your own place? Fine, make your own sad shack in the backyard. You want to be alone? Then avoid us. You want your freedom? Work something out with Rick. All I ask is for you to stop hurting people just because you’re upset.”

She took a deep breath. “I know you don’t want to be here, I know none of this is what you wanted, and I know it’s hard. But you’re here now, and you have to accept that.”

She held Morty’s gaze, her eyes softening. “You don’t need to be okay with this. You don’t even have to explain yourself. Not right now, at least... just—come watch TV with us?”

Morty stared at her.

“Come watch TV with us”, huh? 

He hated how simple she made it sound. Like he didn’t need to suddenly be a part of the family or pretend everything was fine or even like them.

Just calm down and watch some shows with them, that’s all.

He let out a scoff.

As if it was really that easy. As if he could just accept living here all over again.

Fuck you.

His jaw tightened.

Fuck. You.

Why am I the one getting punished? It was Rick’s fault in the first place! I just wanted to work in peace but he’s the one that came over and picked a fight! And plus, why the fuck does it matter whether or not I killed him? He has infinite clones. To him, death is just an opportunity to try again. 

Why am I the one in the wrong?

Morty started walking.

So Rick can fuck up all he wants but the second I make a mistake, I have to pay for it? What kind of backwards logic is that?

Am I supposed to apologize? Apologize for hurting poor ol’ grandpa? For hurting his wittle feelings and making him sad? 

What about me? 

What about when I was hurt? When I felt sad? When I was upset? 

Did I not deserve an apology then?

He opened the door to his room.

I should be sitting in my sunbed right now, staring up at the simulated sky all by myself. I should be alone, without any stupid Mortys or Ricks or whoever the hell else to bother me. 

No more arguments about whether or not hurting those innocent people was okay. No more finding Rick drunk in the garage and helping him to bed while being called “evil” the whole time. No more monologues about how nothing matters so stop wanting to matter. No more waiting and begging and pleading for an ounce of affection only to be told to fucking quit if he can’t take it.

His vision grew blurry.

I should have been gone. For good. Forever. 

I was supposed to be free.

His body fell onto the mattress.

But I’m not. 

I’m right back to where I started except now I can’t leave.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

I can’t leave. I… I can never leave, can I? I’m stuck here. 

Forever. 

No matter what.

Morty’s body curled in on himself, with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs as he quietly sobbed into his knees. It felt familiar, like he’s done this a thousand times. Like his body’s shape was personally imprinted into the mattress. The bed felt dirty and the room smelled like sweat but he preferred it over silk sheets and flowery scents. 

It was like a warm blanket on an especially cold day. Except it wasn’t cold and he wasn’t wearing the blanket. He was curled up, alone, and crying on his bed like a little kid. 

Wait a second, my bed?

Morty shot up, frantically taking in his surroundings. 

This was not his room.

That robot above his bed wasn’t there before. The toy boat was on the third shelf, not the fourth, and the lamp on the nightstand was blue, not red.

His cheeks turned as red as a tomato’s. Fuck. This isn’t my room, this is- this is Prime’s. Oh my god, I just walked away from mo—Beth and went straight to Morty’s room! That’s so embarrassing! Did they see me???

He quickly moved to get off the bed but before his feet could touch the ground, he stopped. 

He dug his nails into the mattress. Come on…

Everything was just slightly off. Things were in the wrong places, the colors ranged from a shade darker to completely different, and there were little details that differed from what he remembered. There was even a science poster on the wall that he’s pretty sure he’s never seen before. 

It wasn’t his room. Not by a longshot.

But even so… he couldn’t bring himself to move.

No matter how hard he tried, his body refused to cooperate. Prime Morty could walk in any second now so he needed to get out before he—

I don’t wanna go.

The thought surprised him.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t be here, even though he knew this wasn’t his room.. he didn’t want to leave.

Not yet.

…Five more minutes.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A day passes. Morty feels like he got off easy when none of the Smiths pestered him with questions, (although they were probably just scared to piss him off again), but hey, at least they aren’t bothering him.

Being treated like the family pariah has its perks.

He’s been working on some security measures on his shack’s door for the past.. uh, how long has it been? It doesn’t matter. He’s almost done with it anyways, just a couple more things and—

His stomach let out a low growl.

Morty stops. He checks the clock on the wall.

Eleven AM. Huh. I’ve been up for.. eight hours.

Reluctantly, Morty put the project on hold for now and headed inside the house for some much needed food. 

As he slid the door open, he was greeted by loud, arguing voices in the dining room. With a roll of his eyes, he goes straight to the kitchen. 

“That is not normal! Oh my god, I’m gonna puke—” Summer 

“You’re just being dramatic! It’s a completely normal a-and acceptable way to eat bread!”

“Mom! Dad! You saw what this disgusting creature did. Tell him it’s not normal!”

Beth poured herself another glass of wine. “Summer, Morty, please keep this for later. It is too early for this.”

Summer groaned, giving up on Beth and turning to Jerry instead. “Dad!?”

“Huh? What was that?” Jerry looked up, his hands currently preoccupied with cutting the bread into a dinosaur shape.

The look on Summer’s face was something akin to disappointment but that was doing it injustice. It looked like she was this close to doing another Jerryboree.

She held her head in her hands. “I’m surrounded by freaks…”

Prime Morty stuck his chest out. “Yeah, get used to it! R-remember what Dr. Wong said? You have to accept people’s differences even if you don’t like it.”

“Shut up—!”

“—Morty!” Rick yelled as soon as he stumbled out of the garage and into the living room. 

Morty stiffened.

“R-Rick?” Prime Morty looked up.

Rick presented a pair of tickets in his hand. “I won some tickets to a really cool dimension, l-let’s check out how lame it is.”

Summer gasps. “Without me?! Fuck you, I’m coming with!”

“Well, if you’d use your eyes, Summer, y-you’d see I only have two tickets.”

“Just clone them. I know you can.” Summer narrowed her eyes at Rick.

Jerry chirps up. “Heyyy, wait! We haven’t gone on a family trip in ages! Let’s all go together!” 

Rick groans. “Seriously?”

Beth hums with interest. “Not a bad idea, I could use a break.” She glares at Rick. 

Rick lets out a much louder, much more annoyed groan. “Fiiine. I’ll clone the damn tickets…” And he returns to the garage.

Prime Morty exclaimed. “Oh, wait a second. Wh-what about Em?”

Morty was so sucked into the conversation that he completely forgot he wasn’t even a part of it. He quickly goes back to looking in the cupboards for something to eat. Maybe cereal?

“What about him?” Summer asked, crossing her arms.

“W-we can’t just leave him alone at home!”

“The last time we left him alone with one of us, he blew a hole in the roof.” 

“To be fair, it was Rick.” Jerry chimes in.

“Jerry!” Beth scolded.

Prime Morty continued. “W-well, we need someone to stay behind.”

“No we don’t.” Summer huffs. She looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen. “Hey, wanna come with?” 

Morty almost dropped his bowl. 

Since when did Summer notice he was here? She was literally facing away from him, how the hell did she know? Please don’t tell me this Summer has secret eyes on the back of her head or something…!

The worst part? She was inviting him to a family vacation. Him. The one who had a little temper tantrum yesterday. Was she serious? Were they really okay with bringing him along after he demonstrated just how willing he is to attack any of them? Or do they not even see him as a threat?

“Uh.” Morty paused. 

No, of course she isn’t serious. They just don’t have any other choice. Either I come along or one of them has to skip out on a vacation trip and babysit the ticking time bomb at home.

He had no choice. Like always.

“Come watch TV with us?”

He dug his nails into his palms. 

“Fine.” The words barely left Morty’s mouth. “But I’m not sitting in the back.”

—

The dimension was apparently one of the most expensive tourist destinations in the entire galaxy, which explained why Rick needed tickets in the first place. 

The Smith family practically dropped their jaws when they saw the place. It was like Disneyland mixed with Vegas. If you weren’t careful, you could easily spend a year in this place. Rick seemed unimpressed though, which made Morty roll his eyes. 

They began wandering around the place. Summer stopped every minute to take a photo of something she thought was cool and “chic”. Prime laughed at her attempts at doing “sexy poses” then got punched in the stomach.

Beth was squinting her eyes a lot. Made sense, the place was pretty bright and vibrant, so Jerry pointed at a nearby stall that was selling shades. They got Rick to pay for it. 

Prime Morty was pointing out basically everything. Jeez, wasn’t he used to this sort of thing by now? A flying whale is not that impressive. But the family found it cool anyway. 

“Can we ride it?” Jerry gasped, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, oh! Can we? Can we, Rick?” Prime tugged on Rick’s sleeve, his gaze just as sparkly as Jerry’s.

“We literally have a flying saucer and you want to go on a knockoff Wailord? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Pleaaase!?” Prime insisted, eyes wide like a puppy’s. Rick groaned at the sight.

“God.. you all owe me for this shit.” Rick muttered before begrudgingly making his way to the security person in front of the whale. 

Prime Morty and Jerry cheered. Beth huffed and Summer just typed on her phone. Morty felt something odd bubble in his chest.

After a while, they ended up stopping by a rollercoaster because Summer and Prime really wanted to ride it and wouldn’t say no for an answer. 

“Mom, I swear to god, I’ll run away for good!”

“Y-yeah! And I’ll—I’ll start drinking and become exactly like Rick!”

Morty hummed, sitting on a nearby bench and listening to the bloodcurdling screams coming from the rollercoaster. Apparently, the seats went upside down, spun around, and the only thing securing you was cuffs on your feet. If Morty didn’t know any better, he’d think they were suicidal.

He furrowed his brows as he saw strange substances falling from the sky. Is that vomit? He pressed his eyepatch to create a mini forcefield to protect him from any.. droppings.

He focused on the couple in the distance. Jerry was trying on different accessories and Beth’s facial expressions cycled through disappointment, amusement, and exhaustion all at once. Maybe even fondness at times. It’s not often you see a Beth and Jerry not arguing.

His eyes glanced over at Rick for a quick second before looking back up at the rollercoaster. He could’ve sworn he saw a smile on his face. Morty felt that ugly sensation returning in his chest. 

Eventually, Prime Morty and Summer got off the ride, trembling and on the verge of passing out.

Beth sighed. “See, I told you two it was a bad idea.”

Both Summer and Prime shook their heads, albeit slowly. “N-no way… that was fucking awesome.” Prime slurred.

“If I wasn’t—” Summer covered her mouth. “On the verge of.. puking out my insides, I’d totally go again.”

“Jesus Christ, was it that good? Damn, maybe I should’ve went.” Rick raised his brows in interest.

“No. You need to be a responsible adult here too!” Jerry placed his hands on his hips. 

Rick took one glance at Jerry and he immediately cowered. “Who the fuck got you these tickets, huh? Go on, enlighten me!”

Beth, as usual, broke up the bickering. “Okay, okay—dad, can you just?” She gestured to the two sickly teens. 

With a heavy sigh, Rick pulled out two syringes and approached them.

A wobbly smile formed on Morty’s lips. Jeez, these people are idiots. 

*

“Is anyone hungry?” Jerry asked, the family still wandering around. 

“Now that you mentioned it…” Beth placed a hand on her stomach.

“Oh! Th-there’s an ice cream truck over there. Summer and I probably need the sugar.” Prime Morty pointed out in the distance. 

Summer was on her phone. “Yeah, it’s hot as shit here. I’d drown myself in ice cubes if I could.”

“Tried it. It’s not as great as you think.” Rick commented, a look of vague disappointment on his face.

Summer deflates. “Damn.”

Beth eyed Rick with concern but shrugs it off. “Yeah, we can go.”

After a couple more minutes of walking, the family made it to the truck. While waiting, Morty decided to sit down on an empty seat.

Beth was nearing the counter so she turned to the family to get their orders. “Okay.. Summer?” 

Summer looked up at the menu. “I’ll have… ooh, Glamour Glaze sounds cool. I want that. And uh, Green Plasma Pop!” She grinned. “Sounds like something that’ll burn my tongue off.”

“We really need to talk about your drug addiction.” Beth comments. She turns to her left. “Jerry?”

“Uhhh…” Jerry was reading the menu with a nervous expression. “Oh god, what are these flavors…?” He cleared his throat. “U-uhm! How about Chocolate Peanut Butter Explosion?” 

Rick shook his head with disapproval. “God, you’re so lame. Alright, my turn.” He shoved Jerry to the side, causing him to cry out a small “hey!”. 

“I want…” Rick squinted his eyes. “Plutonium Pistachio, Quantum Liver, and Light. Oh, and screaming sprinkles.”

Beth stared at him. “What?”

“What?” Rick repeats.

“Quantum Liver? Light? Are you an edgy teenager or do you just wanna look cool?” Summer raised an unimpressed brow at Rick. 

“Okay, l-let’s all judge grandpa’s choice of ice cream, why don’t we?!” Rick threw his arms up in the air.

“You asshats wouldn’t even be here without me. Fuck you.” Rick brought both his hands up then flipped them off. Morty couldn’t resist and flipped him off too.

Beth sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, uh… Morty?” 

“C-classic vanilla, baby! And y’know what? Some star-shaped marshmallows too.” Prime Morty confidently answered.

Rick gestured to him. “See! You bitch on me for my choices but Morty chose vanilla! What a basic bitch.”

“Hey! I-I mixed it up! I got marshmallows! You just wanted to be different!”

“You’re both lame. Now shut up, you’re making a scene.” Beth shot them both a glare. The two quieted down quickly enough.

Beth then turned to Morty. “Em?” She called.

Morty almost fell out of his seat.

Give a fucking warning next time, holy shit. He breathed, clutching onto his chest. Man, he was so engrossed in their conversation that he forgot he was supposed to be part of it. 

Seeing their expectant stares, Morty sat up straighter. “Uhm…” He stammered, looking up at the menu and—oh my god, what is that? Why is the menu that big? What the fuck are these names? What in the actual hell is an Eight-Dimensional Coffee?? This isn’t Starbucks, who needs this many flavors!? 

Overwhelmed by the amount of choices, Morty just waved his hand and averted his eyes away from them. “Vanilla. Whatever.”

Jerry exclaimed. “Oh wow, you two really are similar, huh?” He remarks, looking between both Mortys.

“Well duh, they’re both Mortys???” Summer sarcastically said.

Morty’s shoulders fell. He glanced over at Prime. Of course he picked vanilla…

Prime Morty huffed. “W-well, mine has star-shaped marshmallows!”

“And that makes you sooo special.” Rick mockingly added, waving his hands.

“Marshmallows?” Morty asked against his own will. He couldn’t help it, okay? He didn’t realize there were marshmallows.

Beth turned back. “You want marshmallows too, Em?”

Morty bristled. Uh—

He swallowed, forcefully relaxing his muscles. “I guess? I don’t really care.”

Jerry smiled wryly. “Actually, maybe you’re more similar to Rick…”

Morty honestly couldn’t be bothered to argue, he just scowled at the comparison.

With a sigh, he leaned back against the bench, only to see Prime Morty staring at him.

Morty clenched his fists. “What?”

Prime raised his hands in defense. “Nothing, nothing. It’s just.. d-do all Mortys like vanilla?”

Morty slowly uncurled his fists. “Pretty much.”

Prime’s lips curled into a soft smile. “That’s cool. I, uh, never really got to spend time with o-other Mortys so.. it’s kinda cool that we’re alike despite, y’know, being from other worlds.”

Morty didn’t respond.

He looked down at his shoes. Then Prime’s.

Right.

His eyes flickered back to Prime Morty, a bitter smile on his face. “Sure.”

—

They ended up sitting on one of those picnic tables with the umbrella in the center, all with their chosen ice creams in hand. 

Summer gaped when she saw Rick’s cone. One of the scoops was glowing, like light. Like literal light.

“Grandpa Rick.”

Rick blinked slowly. “Yes, Summer?”

“Can I—”

“Nooope.” Rick cut her off with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Summer whined. “I fucking hate karma!” 

Jerry stared down at his own cone with a worried expression. “It.. it won’t explode in my mouth, right?”

“It’s just a name, honey. Eat it before it melts.” Beth dismissively responds, too busy with her own ice cream to care about Jerry’s. “Oh my god, this is so good…”

Prime Morty licked the star-shaped marshmallows off one by one. “Woah! I-it actually feels like I’m eating stardust! B-but marshmallow flavored!”

Summer snickered, leaning over to Rick and purposefully whispering loudly. “He wants so badly to say his order is just as good as ours.” 

Rick cackles along. “Damn, placebo effect goes crazy.”

Prime Morty pouted. “It is good! Here, try it yourselves!” He handed his ice cream cone to the duo.

Summer fake gagged. “Gross, Morty! I’m not touching that when it’s got your grubby hands and saliva all over it!”

Rick pushed the cone back to Prime Morty. “Morty, i-it’s okay. Just say you’re disappointed with your order. Y-you can still order another one.”

Prime Morty’s shoulders shook in frustration. “I am not! My order’s great! R-right, Em?” He turned to Morty with pleading eyes.

“Don’t drag me into this.” And Morty immediately ignored his pleas. Prime just groaned and went back to arguing with double trouble.

Morty looked down at his untouched ice cream. The longer he waits, the more the ice cream loses its shape. Some of it would drop to the floor, while others landed on his hands, which he didn’t bother to clean.

He raised his head, watching the family bicker once more.

How long has it been since he went out like this? Not just by himself, not because he needed something, but to relax?

How long has it been since he’s spent time with his family? 

Listening to their pointless fights about the most ridiculous things, arguing along with them, laughing together right after…

How long has it been since he was Morty?

When he was just a fourteen year-old boy who liked playing games and masturbating and messing with his sister and going on adventures with his grandpa? 

When did he die?

I died the day I realized the system was broken. 

I died the day I realized my life was nothing but a cage. That Mortys are cursed to live a life stuck to their abusive grandpas and learn to forgive him until the end of time.

Prime Morty burst into laughter from something Rick said.

Morty swallowed.

That kind, naive, pathetic part of himself was gone. 

And he will be too, once he figures out how to leave again. 

He will leave. No matter what. He promised himself that. The second he was bailed out of jail, he promised himself that he’ll find a way out. He did it once, he can do it again.

Then why did you go?

Morty’s breath caught in his throat. 

Why did you say yes? You could’ve stayed home but you didn’t. You willingly went with them. You made a choice.

You wanted to go. Just like how you kept in contact with Rick C-137. Just like how you rubbed it in Prime Morty’s face that his Rick spends more time with you than with him. 

Just like how you got upset when Rick betrayed you. 

Morty bowed his head.

Hilarious.

No matter how hard you try, deep down, you’re still the same needy, emotional, and pathetic Morty you’ve always been.

Desperate to belong, incapable of being alone. 

Morty’s grip tightened on the cone. 

Slowly, he brought the melting ice cream up to his lips and bit down.

He could barely taste the vanilla on his tongue.

He took another bite anyway.