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Morticia was on top of the world.

At least, she was in her dream that night. She dreamt she had climbed a skyscraper for some reason (something about protecting the world from an alien invasion), and the only way to save the day was for her to climb up that giant ass building and stand up there to..wait for someone? She forgot the details.

Not that she remembered the majority of her dreams. They were dreams after all, and didn't make any sense. Sometimes she'd dream she was underwater, as a mermaid, or flying around in space before remembering she wasn't supposed to be breathing and then choke until she woke up in a cold sweat.

But, the skyscraper dream was weird, because she didn't remember having a sense of dread about it. Just standing tall at the top, preparing for the alien invasion, or whatever it was, then she slowly opened her eyes to see the darkened ceiling of her bedroom, a little confused, but realizing she'd been dreaming at the same time.

That was odd. What had woken her up? She made to roll over onto her side and go back to sleep, but found her body was too heavy for some strange reason. Now it was getting uncomfortable, because she felt like all of the weight had gathered in her back, and she needed to get it off.

"Fuck."

Huh? Did she just hear a voice? It was familiar, but at the same time, she couldn't place it, she was too groggy, and had a strange sense like cotton was inside of her head. It didn't make any sense. Maybe she was still dreaming and wasn't fully awake.

She tried to lean up and take a look around her bedroom, gain her senses back, but it just wasn't happening. The heavy feeling was too prevalent, and she found the sensation of fog inside of her taking over the more she tried to come out of her sleep. Maybe she was more tired than she thought. How odd.

Morticia wasn't sure when she fell back asleep, or what had occurred in the small span of when she'd woken up. If she had even woken up to begin with, she still wasn't sure. It was too foggy in her mind to remember. But, the dream changed. She was no longer on top of the skyscraper. That was too bad, though, because she wanted to know if she had saved the world from the alien invasion, but now she was in a room she didn't recognize.

It wasn't like she'd never had a wet dream before either, but now in this room she had no recollection of, it's like she was seeing herself from a third person perspective, and she saw herself with her legs spread. The more the sensation between her legs climbed, she started slowly realizing someone was eating her out. The pressure, although gentle, was unmistakable, and she moved with the feeling, not questioning it, not fighting back. Just feeling.

The fog was still there, and she couldn't see who was down there. It was too fuzzy. But, she tried to imagine it was Jessica. Maybe in this dream, Jessica had asked her out, or maybe Morticia had been the one to finally bite the bullet and give her flowers or some corny shit like that, before Jessica accepted her feelings.

Maybe Morticia's fantasies had gone away with her, until she was dreaming about her now. Not like that had never happened before, but she was held down by a heavy force, something strange, fogging up her mind. What a strange feeling, but it wasn't like she questioned it. If Jessica wanted to eat her out, then who was Morticia to say no to her? That was one of her fantasies. It wouldn't be the first, nor the last time she masturbated to her at night, hoping to one day work up the courage to finally, finally ask her out.

Maybe one day.

But, she gave way to the feeling underneath her, moaning, and could feel the fog in her mind creating a strange sensation that was as though she were coming in and out of sleep. She kept seeing glances of her bedroom ceiling, and then the dream would overtake her vision and she was back in the dark room again. Was this lucid dreaming? No, that would mean she'd have control over the dream, but it was definitely something different.

It felt like it was actually happening. The times she'd have a wet dream, Morticia was always ripped from sleep, right on the brink of orgasm. She'd always be doing something odd in her dream, like rubbing her clit on a pillow or spooning a giant teddy bear. On the rare occasions, she'd be fucking someone, but it always brought her to the brink, right on the edge, before she woke up.

She couldn't wake up.

The feeling was intense, but also confusing. With the odd sensation of cotton all around her, the feeling was somewhat dulled, when she would feel the orgasm start to build, but she couldn't peak. It felt like something heavy was on top of her, and she couldn't breathe, but it was all a dream. Someone was eating her out in the dream, and it was causing her to react weirdly in the real world.

If only she could wake up. Why couldn't she wake up?

A small moan bubbled from her throat. She could hear herself moaning, the sound seeping out from her throat like syrup. Why did it feel this way? She couldn't for the life of her wake up from this, and it was almost scary.

There was a voice again, the voice from earlier. But, maybe that was part of the dream. She thought she could hear someone saying something indistinct, but it sounded too far away. She couldn't make out anything of what they said. It was like garbled nonsense.

Everything began to die down. The feeling of orgasm, the sounds of the voice, and the strange feeling all around her, like the world had slowed down, began to fade away. Morticia didn't remember the rest of the dream. It was black.




Ugh.

That's the only thing Morticia could think when she woke up the next morning. Ugh .

Waking up was an absolute chore the likes of which she never thought were possible. The moment she opened her eyes, she immediately wanted to close them again, but with her alarm blaring in her ear (it's 7AM, time to get up, bitch), it was hard to ignore. She usually used the alarm on her phone, and liked setting it to funny stuff like, people screaming in her ear, but that soon became a horror to wake up to, so she opted instead to do what every regular person did when they used their phone alarm, and set it to music. That was better than people screaming, anyway.

The moment she sat up, she felt like there was a huge weight all over her. Like someone had tied a gigantic stone slab to her back without telling her, and she was pulling the extra weight along with her own. Why in the world did she feel so sluggish? Sure, sometimes she stayed up late and felt like shit the next morning, but never like this.

What if she was getting sick? It was that time of year anyway, so it was possible. Reaching up for a brief moment, she felt of her own forehead after brushing her bangs out of the way to feel...nothing. No signs of fever. Not that she felt hot to begin with, but what was up with the terrible feeling of weight bringing her down?

When she stood from bed, she almost toppled down to the floor, and had to reach out to grab hold of the bed post for support. Okay, what in hell was this? Did she eat something weird last night and it was screwing with her? Morticia went over a list of things she'd eaten before bed. Nothing unusual. Did baby carrots and mashed potatoes make people feel like shit the next day?

She couldn't figure it out.

Maybe she was just super groggy from sleep, and it would go away with time. Maybe that was it.

Looking over at her clock, she realized ten minutes had already passed, and stiffened in shock. Had she really been standing, dazed and trying to support herself on her own two feet for ten actual minutes? No way. The fuck? If she didn't hurry and get to the bathroom, Summer would get in there first and take an entire hour doing her hair and showering.

Shit .

Still a little wobbly on her feet, Morticia chanced it and headed to her bedroom door. That feeling like she had cotton balls was still in her mouth, and she kept trying to swallow to get rid of it, only to find her mouth was too dry to do any good. Never before had she been this groggy after waking up, and it was freaking her out a little she couldn't shake it off.

Maybe sleeping early tonight would do her some good tomorrow?

By the time she stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, she found Summer hadn't barred herself up inside and she silently sighed relief before barring herself up inside. Morticia only needed about five minutes to brush her teeth and wash her face before she was ready for school. Least she got some cold water to slosh around in her mouth before she heard Summer banging on the door, demanding entry.

"Give me a minute, jeez." She hadn't even brushed her teeth yet, but didn't want to be gross and leave without doing that. Despite Summer giving her hell on the other side of the door, she unlocked it with the toothbrush still in her mouth, foam dripping down her chin as she hurried back to the sink as her sister pried the door open.

"You've had fifteen minutes to do this, what's taking you so long?"

Morticia spit out the toothpaste before answering. "S-sorry. I lost track of the time."

"Well, it's my turn to have the bathroom. I've gotta wash my hair and bathe before school."

"If you'd do that at night, you wouldn't scramble in the morning, you know."

Summer rolled her eyes, pushing Morticia out the door as she took over the bathroom. Obviously, Morticia's time was up. "Whatever. I'll meet you downstairs."

Once the door closed in her face, Morticia could hear the shower running, and sighed to herself. That weird groggy feeling hadn't completely left, but she definitely felt a little less shitty than before. She supposed that was a good thing.

Upon coming downstairs, she heard the indistinct voices of her mom and dad chatting (or maybe arguing, hell she didn't know), at the table as Mom was apparently trying to scrambling something akin to breakfast before heading off to work. Her face lit up when she saw Morticia. "Oh, good morning, honey. Would you like an omelette?"

Morticia shook her head. "No thanks." That cotton feeling was still in her mouth. She felt if she ate anything, it wouldn't go down too easily. Plus, once she caught a glance at her mom's 'omelette' she'd just slapped on her dad's plate, Morticia could feel herself retch a little at the sight. Did her mom pour the entire container of oil into the pan or what...

Opting instead for a bottle of water in the fridge, she downed that instead. Least it helped with the groggy feeling somewhat. Maybe this was nothing at all, because the longer she stood hanging around the kitchen, the more the feeling started to go away. Weird. At least now, she could focus on something else. Like, not this.

After what felt like an hour (and it probably was), Summer finally came downstairs, her hair still damp from the shower, pulled up into a sloppy ponytail as usual. She had her backpack slung around her shoulder, still straightening out her pants as she walked into the kitchen.

"So, is Dad taking us to school or what?"

Before she could get the entire sentence out, Jerry was already shaking his head. "No can do, sweetie. I've got a job interview this morning."

They both stared, Morticia especially.

Summer let out a sarcastic snort, as if she didn't believe him. "Are you for real?" Morticia could only stare back, wanting to agree with her sister, but also not fully awake to form a coherent sentence either.


Not sensing her sarcasm, Jerry puffed out his chest. "Yep! I'm gonna charm the tail off this man this morning and get the job for sure."

Before either of them could come back with a response, a familiar loud, and slightly slurring voice suddenly filled the room. "Blow it out your ass, Jerry."

Nobody was surprised when Rick swung around the corner, flask in hand. He didn't appear hammered off his ass just yet, but he was getting there. Making his way toward Morticia, he went to grab at her arm. "M-M-Morti, let's go. Quick adventure. W-We'll be in an out before you k-know it."

Despite Jerry's complaints about Rick's earlier statement, he suddenly stood out of his seat when Rick tried to pull Morticia along, despite her clear protesting and trying to pull away. Now was not the time for this. "Beth, are you seeing this? The kids have school and you're just letting your father drag our daughter away to god knows where?"

Beth only let out a small, if not awkward, laugh. "Oh, stop being dramatic. I'm sure wherever Dad is taking her, it's safe and harmless." There was a slight pause. Yet again awkward. "Right, Dad?"

Rick shrugged. "Right, whatever." Adamantly avoiding eye contact with Beth, he took a quick swig of his flask. Did he suddenly start drinking faster?

Beth turned back to Jerry, giving him a 'told-you-so' kind of look. "See?"

"Um..." Morticia's small voice spoke up amongst the arguing. Rick still had a firm grip on her arm and didn't appear to be letting go anytime soon, and she still pulled away. She really did not want to go on one of his adventures this morning, especially not with a hangover, if that was even what this was called. It still felt as though she were moving in slow motion, and the world around her, her parents and Rick included, were moving way too fast for her to keep up with right now. Still, she tried her best to make sure everyone knew she was all for going to school right now. The clock was ticking. "W-we should probably g-get going. We're going to be late..." But it held no weight into the conversation.

"Right, M-Morti, we'll have our adventure, s-s-swing back around to--"

"No, I want to go to school." This time, her voice was a little more firm, if not irritable. God, sometimes talking to Rick was like talking to a god damn brick wall.

But, it did no good. He only pulled at her arm, finally breaking the resistance she had before and dragged her along through the kitchen, through the living room, and to the garage. Morticia could hear Summer's voice behind her calling out, "No fair! I want to go on an adventure instead of going to school!" before Rick slammed the garage door behind them.

There was a putrid smell in the air once she was enclosed in this space. Pulling up her arm, she covered her mouth and nose, managing to spit out, "Wh-what the hell i-i-is that?" that came out as a muffled choke.

Rick shrugged, not at all affected by whatever the smell was as he pulled the cover sheet off his ship. "Don't ask." Even though she just did.

"J-jeez, Rick, did you kill an a-animal or something a-a-and dissect it?"

"Pff. Animal. H-hilarious. Okay, g-g-get the fuck in." Without waiting for a response, Rick pulled open the door on the ship before not so gracefully shoving Morticia inside. She made a noise of discomfort as she worked to straighten herself, glaring at Rick who made his way to the opposite side of the ship and into the driver's seat. Tipping his flask back, he gulped down more of the liquid inside before raring the ship to life.

Sighing in defeat, Morticia didn't want to, but accepted the fact this was going to be her morning by reaching up, nabbing the seatbelt, and clicking it into place. Of all the times he had to go dragging her off on this bullshit, it had to be right now. She'd been looking forward to saying hello to Jessica this morning at the lockers. After all, the dream she had last night where Jessica ate her out--

Morticia suddenly choked on nothing, as the memory of what happened came flooding back to her in that instant. It had been fogged up by the hangover feeling she was experiencing, but now that she was slowly coming out of it, her memory had graced her with the dream she had last night, the one where she'd been eaten out.

And.

Her face grew hot as she realized something. It hadn't been Jessica doing it. She wasn't sure why she assumed it was, but.

Turning to glance at Rick from the corner of her eye as he pulled them out of the garage and into the sky, she knew. It had been him. She'd dreamt Rick ate her out.

Holy shit?

What the hell was wrong with her? With this sudden realization, she could only squeeze her pants legs and stare down at her knees, face red from the thought of it. Why would her mind conjure something like that? She felt so bad because of it, for some reason. Not like she had any control over a dream, but jeez. It was still embarrassing as fuck.

She turned away from him, refusing to even glance at him from the side, and looked down, feeling the heat envelop her as she tried to push the dream from her memory.

Apparently, Rick noticed. "Th-th-the fuck's wrong with you?"

Morticia shook her head, still squeezing her pants. She couldn't even open her mouth to reply. There was no way she could tell him she dreamt he ate her out, and why would she? That wasn't exactly need to know information. And it wasn't like she'd never had weird dreams where she was fucking her family members, as terrible as they were, but to be hit in the face with realization such as this, she couldn't get over it.

Couldn't get over how real it felt.

All she could do was swallow, avoid eye contact with Rick, and wait for this stupid adventure to be over with. Maybe the adventure would take her mind off the dream.

Nah, she doubted it.

Chapter Text

Morticia awoke the next morning, the groggy feeling hanging over her like some unpleasant storm cloud thoroughly prepared to fuck up her day, and she sat up in bed, rubbing at her eyes as if that would make it all better. It didn't. But, at least today was a weekend day. When she looked over at her bedside table to peer at the clock, she was a little shocked to see that it was almost noon.

Not that Morticia never slept till noon, but those were usually reserved for late nights, like when she'd go out adventuring with Rick too late, or stay up trying desperately to get her homework done.

She couldn't remember staying up late last night. In fact, she remembered getting pretty sleepy right after she ate dinner. It was all hazy from that point on, but she could remember sitting at the dinner table with everyone, as she ate her spaghetti and drank a soda, while Jerry yammered on about who-gave-a-fuck what, and Beth rolled her eyes at him. Meanwhile, Summer had asked her at some point if she wanted to watch a movie with her this weekend. It was a rare time when her sister asked her to hang out, and Morticia remembered nodding. Sometimes she and Summer got along. Sometimes.

But then, the heavy feeling of sleep took over and she had to excuse herself from dinner, almost stumbling up the stairs to her room from the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. Maybe she was getting sick, because she didn't remember much aside from collapsing onto the bed and passing out after that.

Letting the covers fall off her as she eased her way out of bed, Morticia looked down at herself, noticing she was in her pajamas. That was weird. She could've sworn she fell asleep as soon as she came up from dinner, and couldn't recall changing into a nightgown or anything. But, as she looked off to the side of the bed, there lay her jeans and yellow shirt, tossed carelessly to the floor. Oh, so. Maybe she did, then? Hell, she couldn't remember.

Standing from bed was a chore, just like it had been the day before. The groggy feeling was back, and she shook her head, running her fingers through her hair as she tried to shake it off. Now wasn't the time to get caught up in this feeling again. For all she knew, it could've been in her imagination. She didn't know. It would probably be a good idea to ask Mom about it.

She put a hand to her forehead to see if she was warm again, but there weren't any signs of a fever. It was so strange, and almost frustrating she couldn't pinpoint why she felt this way. But, something had to be wrong. Why else was she feeling like this?

Sighing a little, she pulled herself off the bed, feeling as though she were walking through sludge, and made her way into the bathroom. Everything was slow again, like the world was going in fast motion around her, but she could ignore that for the moment when she sat down to pee, pulled her pajama pants to her ankles, and noticed something odd.

Her underwear was gone.

That was strange. Morticia always wore underwear, even to bed, and sat on the toilet in a fogged stupor. Just how fucked up had she gotten last night to forget putting on underwear? It was starting to freak her out now, that she couldn't remember anything. Not putting on pajamas, forgetting to put on underwear, not even getting under the covers, she just remembered face planting right onto the pillow and passing out.

She swallowed as nerves built up in her stomach. That tiny feeling of butterflies building up in her stomach began to surface, and she exited the bathroom as quickly as she could, still dressed in her pajamas, before heading downstairs.

She found Beth seated in front of the tv, flipping through channel after channel, and walked up beside her to get her attention. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" She wasn't looking at her, still flipping through the channels, but had that inflection in her tone that let Morticia know she was listening.

"Umm..." Morticia's words trailed off. She wasn't even sure what to say. Did she just say she was sick or? "Can you help me?"

Now Beth looked away and over to Morticia, a small hint of concern washing over her face. For a moment, Morticia felt relief to see that. "Sure, honey. What's the matter?"

"Uhh." No matter how she phrased it in her head, it all sounded stupid when she tried to figure out how to say it. "I don't feel well."

"Are you sick? Do you have a fever?" As she spoke, Beth stood from the couch, abandoning the remote which settled in between the cushions. She placed the palm of her hand against Morticia's forehead and frowned. "You don't feel warm."

"It's just--" Morticia struggled to come up with the right words. God dammit, how did she say this without sounding like a moron? "Th-the past couple days, I've woken up and felt r-really groggy. I-I don't know why."

Beth arched her eyebrows. "You sure you aren't just sleeping too much?"

Too much. Hah. She wished. "I-I mean really groggy. L-like I-I-I'm gonna fall off the t-toilet when I-I sit down."

The more she tried to explain this, the more Beth looked at her like she wasn't making any sense, and Morticia could feel her own face heat up with embarrassment. This was a mistake, coming to Mom like this. Ugh, she shouldn't have freaked out over her own underwear like that. Morticia always was a ball of nerves, ready to unravel and freak out at the tiniest thing. This was just her panicking over nothing.

"Th-then again, it c-could be nothing..." Her words trailed off, as she looked down at the floor, away from Beth. That tiny moment when her mom made her feel relieved was gone, as she only felt embarrassed for having come down here now. "Sorry." She felt the need to add it.

"Don't be sorry, but I really think you might be freaking out over nothing, sweetie."

Morticia nodded. It felt kind of better to be told it was nothing, honestly. No big deal. Nothing to worry about. She could relax a little.

"Work on your sleep schedule. I know it's Saturday, but try to go to bed early tonight and wake up at a reasonable time tomorrow. You never know, it could just be sleep problems." Beth gave her a smile, and Morticia felt comforted by it.

She smiled back. "O-okay."


 

Morticia made her plans that day.

Well, she would have, if Rick hadn't dragged her off to another universe later that afternoon to steal some stupid 'ingredient' as he put it, from an alien race. They spent the better part of the day running away while Rick tossed off the weird substance to Morticia, yelling at her she better not drop it, or else . She wondered if anything would actually happen if she dropped it, or if he was just giving her hell and making a big deal out of nothing.

Either way.

When they returned home, it was dark outside, and Morticia leaned back in her seat as she stared up at the night sky through the window. So much for having her day planned out. She was supposed to spend today catching up on homework, then Summer wanted to watch a movie, then she needed to get to bed on time, but fuck all that.

"G-give me that." Without waiting for a reply, Rick snatched up the substance she had been holding in her lap (it looked to her like a giant rock cluster, but he'd probably say something different, knowing him.) He cradled it like it was made of glass and not rock as he crawled out of the ship and planted his feet onto the garage floor, before making his way over to the desk and setting the rock down next to a bunch of tools and shit. Grabbing the nearest tool, he started scraping the surface of the substance.

Morticia watched him for a minute or so, waiting to see if something interesting would actually happen, but Rick had gotten absorbed in his work, and ignored her. She supposed that meant she wasn't needed anymore, and opened the door of the ship, before hopping out.

When she made her way back into the house, it had quieted down a considerable amount, and almost all the lights were off save for a lamp or two. She saw her mom sleeping on the couch, the tv droning on the background, having obviously fallen asleep there, but Morticia quietly tiptoed her way upstairs and to her own bedroom.

The clock read almost exactly midnight, and she let out a loud sigh. Sometimes, she didn't know why she didn't tell Rick to go fuck off when he dragged her on an adventure, but then remembered sometimes she did, but he dragged her off anyway.

She didn't bother to change out of her clothes, and tucked herself under the covers before falling asleep.


 

After Sunday rolled around, Morticia wasn't surprised anymore to wake up to the feeling of something heavy hanging over her. At least she remembered to put underwear on today. When she rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, she stumbled on her feet, almost tripping and falling against the wall. It had become routine up to this point, but she caught herself, struggling to hold her own weight up. It was sleep. Just her sleep patterns messing her up.

When she pulled her pants down to pee that morning in the bathroom, she was shocked to notice a pattern of bruises on the insides of her thighs.

Morticia felt the tears well up in her eyes, and had to bite her lip to keep them from falling. What the fuck was going on? Was she just going crazy? Did she hurt herself while out with Rick last night and didn't remember? How many things were going to happen that she kept forgetting?

Calm down, calm down, she had to tell herself over and over. This was nothing. There was no point crying over a bruise (or cluster of bruises), because it wasn't like she'd never woken up to a random bruise on herself before. Like sometimes she'd get them on her legs, or bash her elbow without realizing.

But, she couldn't remember what she'd done with Rick yesterday for this to appear between her thighs like this. Maybe it happened while they were running away. Maybe she had hurt herself and didn't realize at the time. Everything was kind of a blur in the heat of the moment.

That had to be it.

These adventures were starting to get to her. She felt so stupid, sitting on the toilet like she was, trying to dry her face up when the tears spilled out, as she tried to get ahold of herself. It was just a bruise. Just a couple bruises. There was no point getting upset like this. She was just stressed out from being dragged all over the place lately and it was getting to her.

Sighing, she splashed cold water on her face at the sink before looking up into the mirror. There were bags under her eyes, despite waking up at noon yet again today, she was exhausted, and it showed. She let out another small sigh. There had to be a break soon. Rick had to be satisfied with all the minerals and shit they'd been out collecting lately. Morticia wasn't sure how much more she could take being dragged around.

It sucked, because every time she saw him, he never looked any worse for wear. Perhaps it was because he was used to this type of thing, but Morticia wondered if she'd ever get used to the late nights they spent running around, escaping from alien hoards, traveling across the universe, and stealing random shit. If her own grandpa had more stamina than her, maybe she just sucked.

Morticia shook her head, splashing more cold water in her face. Now wasn't the time to get sore over the fact she was getting bogged down with this. She'd just have to try harder.

She stood up straight and dried her face on the nearby hand towel. Right. She just needed to try harder.

In that moment she stood staring at her own reflection at the sink, Morticia felt something seep into her underwear from between her legs. It was a gross feeling, but not an unfamiliar one, as she wondered for a split second if she'd started her period while standing there. But, one look as she pulled her panties back gave her the view of something that looked like white discharge had fallen out of her.

Ew, what the fuck? First the bruises today, now this? Well, it wasn't uncommon either, but she heaved an annoyed sigh. Of all the days to deal with something like this, it had to be today.

At least she'd get to see Jessica at school tomorrow.


 

About a week had passed since Morticia first started feeling like shit all the time. It felt like a normal occurrence in her everyday life at this point, which was pathetic. Sometimes Rick would come grab her to go run an errand (which ended up being an all nighter), but he seemed to be a little more lenient that week on her. She actually got to go to sleep early a few nights, and even finished her homework on time for once.

It was Friday again, and Morticia went to school with a little more pep in her. Rick hadn't dragged her anywhere last night, and she got to study for her homework, plus she'd get to say hi to Jessica at the lockers this morning, so she felt pretty great.

Some mornings she woke up with that weird discharge in her underwear, but she'd been ignoring it, which was probably for the best. If she focused on anything else right now, she'd probably drive herself crazy from stress.

And she could ignore that for now, because once she'd reached her locker, there was Jessica.

Oh shit.

No matter how many times Morticia saw her, she always looked like a princess. Even now, when she briefly made eye contact with her, Morticia's face heated up with blush as she shyed away to the side. Sometimes, like right now, she couldn't even look her in the eye without becoming a dumb mess of gush. She waited until Jessica turned to the side to grab her books from her locker, and then stole a glance at her from the corner of her eye.

She was wearing lipgloss today, and Morticia wondered for a moment if it was perhaps flavored. If she kissed her, would it taste like cherry? Or grape? Hell, Jessica herself would be better than that.

With her thoughts going into more perverse territory, Morticia couldn't help but tremble a little as she grabbed her books from her locker. It wasn't a good idea to get carried away with thoughts like this so early in the morning, but she couldn't help it. Even after all the crap she put up with lately at home, this was one of the few things that took her mind off everything bad.

"Hey, Morti?"

She almost peed, jumping so bad at the sound of Jessica ( JESSICA ?!) calling her name, she nearly dropped her books when she whirled around to see her staring at her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Jessica shot her an apologetic smile and Morticia almost melted on the spot.

Fuck, what did she say? Think of something, quick. Uhh...did she talk about the weather? Holy shit, Jessica was talking to her, so she needed to say something worthwhile. Think, think. Morticia was starting to sweat a little, her blush creeping all the way to the ends of her ears as she struggled to open her mouth and say something--anything. "Oh, I-I wasn't--I mean--you didn't scare me, I-I mean you did, but no--that was my fault, I-I'm sorry." The more she stumbled over her words, the worse her blush creeped up, until she knew her face was completely red now.

Jessica giggle a little, doing this cute little shift back and forth on her heels that Morticia thought was so cute . "You've missed a lot of school lately, I didn't know if you were sick or something."

"No! Not sick. Just uh--" Morticia gulped. "Family stuff. N-no big deal." She tried so hard to smile, but damn it all if she didn't fuck that up.

Then Jessica walked closer, and Morticia didn't mean to, but she backed up against the locker, her breath stiffening in her throat as she approached her, and she couldn't breathe, because holy shit . "You wanna hang out sometime? We could get ice cream or play some video games together. Do you like video games?"

All Morticia could do was nod in shock, still in a state of denial this was happening at this very moment, right here at the lockers. "Y-yeah, I like v-v-video games." It was taking all the energy she had at the moment to muster her words and shoot them out her mouth.

Jessica smiled at her again. "See you, Morti." And walked past her.

A few moments ticked by long after Jessica had disappeared around the corner and down the hallway, disappearing into the crowd of students, and Morticia still hadn't moved from her spot glued to the lockers.

Had that just happened? Had that really just happened?

Holy shit.

Jessica asked her out on a date. Well--maybe not a date , but definitely a something . Her heart was still pounding so hard against her chest, she was she'd throw up from it. She got light-headed when she tried to stand up straight and turn around to her still-open locker and gather the rest of her books.

Jessica asked her out. Jessica asked her out. Jessica asked her out . Morticia couldn't bite down the nerves in her stomach that were churning around and making her smile. She was both excited and afraid, but it felt so good too.

The bell rang, but she was already late. Who cared? As she slammed her door shut, hugging her books close to her chest and walked to class, she smiled and smiled, until her jaw ached, because Jessica asked her out.

Maybe she would get to taste her lipgloss after all.

 

Chapter Text

The shower felt so soothing that night. She squirted a handful of strawberry shampoo into her hands before lathering it into her long hair, trying to be extra meticulous when she did so. Even though it felt nice in the shower tonight, and she was tempted to stay inside for an hour and use all the hot water, she was also in a hurry. She needed to bathe and get out. The quicker, the better.

Because Jessica had texted her earlier that day.

She'd woken up that Saturday morning to see a text message asking if Morticia wanted to hang out that night. They hadn't made any intricate plans, but they would meet at Jessica's house and decide what to do from there.

Needless to say, Morticia was a nervous wreck. She wanted everything to go perfectly, just in case this really was a date, and she ended up kissing Jessica. This could have just been a friend thing, and Jessica only wanted to hang out and gossip about people, which Morticia was totally fine with as well. As long as she was with her, she didn't care what they did.

But still. If she got to kiss her tonight, she would probably die from happiness.

After she lathered her body up with soap, she wasted no time rinsing off and jumping out of the shower and drying off. Her hair was going to take forever to blow dry, but she still had plenty of time before she needed to be at Jessica's house.

But what did she wear? Did she put on makeup? Did she wear a cute dress, or dress casually like she always did, in her jeans and t-shirt? What was appropriate? Morticia tried not to panic as she thought of these things while she ran a brush through her thick hair, and grabbed the blow dryer. Her thoughts were running a million miles a minute and it was both exhilarating and stressful.

Not sure what else to do, she opted to wear jeans and a t-shirt that night. But, after checking herself out in the mirror, she felt like something was missing. She'd pulled most of her hair back with a headband, save for her bangs, and her hair naturally curled in certain spots, so she didn't really have to use a curling iron on it. That took care of that, but something was off.

Then it hit her. What if she wore a little makeup? Jessica was always dolled up every time she saw her at school. Meanwhile, Morticia never really got into that stuff (or more like, never had the time to), but she wanted to at least wear some eyeliner and mascara. Something to accent her eyes and-and-maybe wear lipgloss too.

Without wasting anymore time, she headed to Summer's bedroom and opened the door without knocking. Summer was talking on the phone, barely noticing Morticia's entry, but jumped up when she did turn over and saw her there, and put a hand over the receiving end of the phone. "What the hell, Morticia, will you knock next time?"

Her apology was half-assed, but she spat it out in quick session. "Sorry, but I-I needed your help."

Summer sighed, rolling her eyes. "With what?"

"Will you help me put on makeup?"

Summer perked up a little, seeming to show a little interest. "Call you back." She hung up the phone, tossing it next to her pillow, and gave her sister a mischievous smile. "Look at you, sis, getting all grown up. Are you going on a date?"

Her words only made Morticia's face gush with blush, but she couldn't help but smile and look down shyly at the floor as she twiddled her fingers. "M-maybe... I don't know yet."

"Well, it'll be a date once I'm through making you look hot. Come over here." She patted the spot on the bed next to her and Morticia made her way over, sinking down onto the spot next to her sister.


 

Honestly, once Summer was through with her, Morticia didn't really see much of a difference in her face, other than the eyeliner and mascara. It definitely made her eyes stand out more, but Summer said she didn't need any blush or lipstick. Not now anyway. When she stood and looked at herself in the mirror, it was a subtle change if anything, but a nice one. Morticia could smile, as she thought if she got to kiss Jessica, maybe her lipgloss would rub off on her.

She inhaled, trying to calm down. The more time passed, the more the time approached that she needed to meet up with Jessica, and the more nervous she got. She did her best to look presentable, wanting to dress up, but also afraid to dress up.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest when she made her way downstairs and she spotted Beth and Rick sitting at the kitchen table, chatting about something. One look told her they were both drinking, as Beth sipped on a glass of wine, and Rick drank from his flask. Neither of them appeared drunk yet, but good thing she wasn't going to be around for that later.

Beth turned and looked as she approached from behind, and gave her a smile. "Well, don't you look pretty, Morticia!"

Morticia blushed, and smiled a little as she felt the butterflies in her stomach churning once again. "Thanks." She twiddled her thumbs again nervously.

Rick's slurring voice brought her down from her thoughts. "Th-the hell you so d-d-dressed up for-- ugh -- tonight?" Oh, so he was already buzzed, it seemed. He looked up at her from his spot at the table, and narrowed his eyes at her when she made eye contact with him. It wasn't hostile, but...an odd thing she noticed. But, maybe he was just squinting at her because he was old, hell she shouldn't focus on tiny insignificant details like that.

Despite Rick being...well, himself, Morticia smiled when she answered. "I'm going over to Jessica's house." She blushed again at the thought of it. "She invited me over."

Rick stared at her for a moment, as though processing the information in his slightly drunken state, before standing straight up in his seat, causing Beth to jump beside him at the sudden movement. "I-I-I just remembered, Morti." All of a sudden, there was a rush in his tone, and he swayed back and forth a little when he stood up, but caught himself by grabbing the back of his chair. "We-we gotta go on an adventure tonight. I-it's super i-impor-ugh-tant, Morti. It-it-it can't-I just remembered." His eyes had widened and the more he spoke, the worse the words were muddled together, all clammering out at once until it was slurring together.

Morticia frowned. "What? No. Can't it wait? I'm going to Jessica's house. We've been going on nonstop adventures all week, can't you go by yourself or something?"

Rick let go of the back of the chair, only to stumble on his feet, before he leaned over the table to catch himself. "No, I-I can't go by m-my fucking self, Morti . I n-need you there!" His drunken slurring was turning into drunken yelling, and even Beth was giving him a concerned look from beside him.

Morticia looked at her mom, begging with her eyes, please god, say something to him, because if Rick dragged her off on an adventure tonight, Jessica might lose interest in her, thinking she blew her off or something. Morticia couldn't cancel their plans. She'd been looking forward to this all day. She knew nothing she said to Rick was going to change his mind. Plus, why was he freaking out all of a sudden like this? He hadn't come to her all day for any of this shit, but right when she was about to head out, he just so happened to have something planned for them?

Morticia called bullshit on it. He was just being an asshole.

"Um, Dad." Beth's voice interjected slowly. "Can't this wait? Just let Morticia go hang out with her friend and when she comes back, then you guys can go run your errand."

Shifting back and forth on his feet, Rick glared at Beth, before he snatched up his flask and tipped it back, emptying it down his throat. "Y-you don't get it, Beth."

"Come on, Dad. It's not like she's spending the night over there. It's just for a couple hours. Surely this errand can wa--"

"Forget it." Without even giving Beth a chance to finish, Rick backed away from the table, struggling to keep himself upright as he stumbled out of the room and into the garage. He mumbled angry incoherent swear words the whole time.

Morticia let out an annoyed sigh after he slammed the garage door shut. "What's his problem? Jeez."

Beth shrugged. "I don't know, sweetie, but you'd best run along. Don't worry about him."

She glanced at the garage door from across the room where he had slammed it and nodded. "I won't."


 

Jessica's room was so unlike her own. Not that it was overly feminine or anything like that, but Jessica actually cleaned her room, unlike Morticia.

She had posters taped to her wall of people Morticia didn't recognize, a wall of stuffed animals on the shelves, along with several knicknacks that looked like they didn't belong anywhere else, and her bed. Her bed was a queen size, which Morticia noticed almost immediately.

She had a pretty good sized tv as well, which was connected to a gaming system. Morticia never really took her as a gamer, always taking Jessica as more of a preppy person interested in fashion and things like that, but hey.

Her nerves had settled somewhat by the time she got there, since she'd been about to piss herself the whole time, but coming into Jessica's room, having Jessica smile at her, and ask her if she wanted to hang out, play some games, was enough to calm Morticia down. She could even forget about what had happened earlier with Rick, even though in the back of her mind, she had a small fear he would randomly appear from a portal to drag her off on an adventure anyway, since he was notorious for doing that at school sometimes, but.

It wasn't worth worrying about.

Morticia was with Jessica now.

"Do you like racing games?" Jessica had picked up a stack of games from a cabinet and turned to Morticia for her input.

She smiled. It really didn't matter to her. "S-sure, I love racing games." What mattered was she was with Jessica right now, in her room, and this was actually happening. She had trouble processing that this was real life right now. Hopefully Rick hadn't secretly put her in a simulation somehow and was feeding her bits of happiness for research purposes. Nah, that was fucked up, even for him.

They played video games.

Morticia couldn't really focus on the games all that much, as Jessica had sat right next to her, almost close enough that her arm brushed against hers, and Morticia was sweating again. She had said she didn't mind if tonight was just like this, hanging out and doing nonsensical things. It was a wonderful break from the insane adventures she'd been having lately, and she really needed something normal to come down to, something to remind her that this was still life right now.

And she couldn't believe she was having fun with Jessica right now. Couldn't believe she was even hanging out with her, of all people. Jessica asked her out to come here, and they were playing racing games together.

Morticia kept losing the races, because all she could focus on was being here, in the moment, and being next to Jessica, in her room that smelled like lilac. When Jessica laughed at her for losing the race, gave her a smile that made Morticia melt on the inside, she felt so calm, so at peace.

So this is what it felt like to finally hang out with her crush after all this time. It felt really good, so good, Morticia was surprised when Jessica put down the controller and gave her a small smile. "It's going to be midnight in a while. Did you have a curfew?"

Morticia started sweating. "Oh, y-yeah, I did." Looking away from Jessica for a moment, she blushed when she stared down at the controller in her hands. "I was having so much fun, it felt like time flew by."

"It really did."

When Jessica reached out with her hand, with her perfectly manicured nails, which Morticia noted were sparkly and pink, and brushed the knuckles of her hand, Morticia thought she was going to hyperventilate on the spot.

"I hope we can hang out again, Morti."

It took all the energy she had to respond to that one. "M-M-me too."


 

Morticia blushed all the way home, even long after she made it inside the house and only a few lamps were on. She blushed when she washed the makeup off in the bathroom, blushed when she changed out of her clothes and into a nightgown, and blushed when she crawled into bed. She felt like she was high, high on this feeling of Jessica. Jessica touched her hand, maybe on purpose even, and offered to hang out again. This was so surreal. Why would Jessica want to hang out with her?

Morticia was on top of the world.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, too excited to sleep that night. Her imagination was running wild, and she started fabricating future dates they might have. She didn't get to kiss her this first time, but maybe it was rude to kiss on the first date (was that even a date though?). Next time, Morticia would have to ask her out for food and then she'd walk her to the door, and then lightly kiss her cheek first. Not on the lips. She didn't want to seem too desperate. Unless Jessica kissed her first. Then Morticia would kiss back.

She got heated all over again, with these thoughts.

She still couldn't believe this was happening, that she got to hang out at Jessica's house tonight and be a normal high school girl for once. Not only did she get to hang out with her crush, but they played video games and had fun. Like, Morticia actually had fun .

The thoughts buzzed in her head like a swarm of bees, and she turned on her side, feeling the heat on her face stuck there. She wanted to text her in the morning, and she couldn't wait.


 

The first thing she was aware of upon waking up was a weight on top of her. Her senses hadn't come to just yet, but there was a heavy scent of alcohol in the air, and she wondered if that's what roused her from sleep in the first place. It was confusing at first, it always was, when she first woke up in the middle of the night to her dark ceiling, but she also noticed something else.

It was cold.

She was freezing.

And that weight on top of her...

Morticia opened her eyes, seeing only the darkness of her room, but becoming more and more aware of the scent of alcohol, and of the weight on top of her. It took her a few moments then it should have for her to pick up on the fact someone was in the room with her.

Oh great, had Rick come to drag her off to a late night adventure? That was the only explanation she could come up with for the scent of alcohol. He was probably drunk off his ass again. He seemed pretty pissed when she left earlier, so he probably got wasted while she was gone.

Her senses came back to her, and she could see him in the darkness. It was definitely Rick, that much she could tell, and he was breathing really hard, but--

"Rick...?" Her voice was scratchy from sleep, while she was still coming out of it.

He was on top of her. Why was he on top of her? She was so cold, and it took her a moment too long to realize her nightgown was bunched up around her, exposing her body. It had been rolled up to her chin. He was straddling her, and she could see, she could feel it. She could feel it. She could feel it.

He'd pulled her underwear back, and was sliding something slim in and out of her. The more she felt it, the more she awoke, and she panicked. She straight up panicked when she realized.

It hit her all at once, just what was happening. Rick was on top of her, straddling her, shoving his fingers inside of her, scissoring her, and she panicked.

She squirmed away from him, and he made a surprised noise, louder than she had expected, and his fingers jerked out of her when she tried to climb out from under him, anything to sit up and get away. Her voice was a choked whisper when she cried out, "R-Rick, what-w-what the hell are you doing?" Was she dreaming this? This couldn't be real.

And he slurred. He was absolutely wasted. She could see him swaying back and forth, even as he sat straddling her. His voice was deep and scratchy from the booze, and he leaned over her way too far, getting all the way up in her face until she had to move her head to the side to avoid the scent of alcohol on his breath. "Ohhh, f-fuck, why a-are, y-y-you awake?"

"Get off me!" She tried to push him off, but he didn't budge.

When she raised her voice, he reached up with one hand to shove against her mouth. "Shhhhuuuuuuu...M-Morti...I-I thought I-uhh-gave you the needle. Wh-where is it..." Despite Morticia struggling beneath him, Rick didn't move a muscle as he took his opposite hand, the hand he just had his fingers inside her with, and dug around in his pockets. "Oh fuck...I th-thought I g-gave you this..." Pulling out a needle, he held it out and a liberal amount of liquid sloshed around inside.

Morticia froze in horror. What the fuck was that? Just what in the fuck was that?

Removing his hand from her mouth, he reached up to pull the cap off the needle, but had some difficulty in his drunken state, swaying back and forth, swearing as he reached up and tried to pry it off, only to be unsuccessful.

He was going to stick her with that.

He was going to drug her. Rick was going to drug her.

Morticia took the opportunity he was distracted to try crawling out from under him again, but even drunk, Rick stopped what he was doing long enough to push her back down by gripping her shoulder. "Noo, Morti, y-you gotta-gotta stay still."

"Rick, what the fuck." She was too shaken to even muster it as a question. "Wh-why are you doing this? Y-you're drunk, j-just go back to the garage, a-and sleep it off. C-come on, Rick, get off me." She was already scared, but the fact he wasn't moving was scaring her even more. Plus, the fact he was about to drug her was making her panic, until she was shaking.

But, he wasn't listening. "Shh, M-Morti. It-it won't hurt, I-I promise." Putting the cap up his mouth, he yanked it off with his teeth instead, and Morticia watched in horror as he spat it out onto the floor. He positioned it, heading for her neck. He was going to stick her, he was going to stick her.

"No!" She reached up and grabbed hold of his wrist, the one holding the needle, and tried to push him away. "Get off me!"

"Shh!" Again, he reached over to stifle her voice by holding his hand over her mouth, but she thrashed back and forth, making it difficult for him. "D-do you w-w-wanna get the whole god damn h-house involved, Morti?" Just what was he saying?

"You're not sticking me w-with that, Rick!"

Even as wasted as he was, Rick was stronger than her. Despite holding his wrist back with both hands now, Morticia knew she couldn't fight him off. But, he was having trouble keeping her quiet and holding her down, and trying to inject her with the needle all at once. If she could just crawl out from under him, she could run. She could escape out the door and run to mom, to dad, or someone. She had to get away from him.

If she could just.

She thrashed to the side, and he lost his grip for a moment. He stumbled, and he was so drunk, he swayed to the side, and Morticia took that opportunity to get the fuck out from under him. He was off balance, and she could use it to her advantage. She pushed him, and he tumbled off the bed, and it only took a moment before she bolted. In the instant he was on the floor, Morticia jumped off the bed as well, racing to the bedroom door. She was prepared to scream her lungs out for someone to come save her, to stop him from jamming that needle into her, but she barely reached the door handle before Rick was behind her.

In the second he had been knocked to the floor, Rick was back up again, and he grabbed Morticia from behind as he put her in a headlock, trapping her arms behind her and holding her down. She struggled, trying to fight him off, trying to squirm out of his hold, but he was too strong, even while drunk, even while hammered off his ass, he was more competent than her. In the moments passing while she thrashed from side to side in his hold, trying to wriggle her way out, he jammed the needle in her neck, and she winced as the liquid was injected inside of her.

There was no recovering. The moment she felt the liquid go inside her, Morticia's vision began to fade, and she fell limp. Every muscle in her body refused to work and her body shut down. She fell like a ragdoll into Rick's arms, and she could hear his voice slurring behind her as darkness enveloped her vision, until it faded away. "Shh, i-it's okay. I-I got you. Grandpa's here."


 

The groggy feeling lately had been something she was used to. It had been happening for awhile, and she even asked her mom about it, only to be brushed off, dismissed, but she knew in the back of her mind that Mom really did care about her. It just happened this way. Mom loved her and Dad loved her. Sometimes, she and Summer got along, which was evident by the fact Summer helped her with her makeup earlier that night. They would fight sometimes, but it wasn't like sisters never argued. It wasn't the perfect relationship.

She woke up with that groggy feeling in her head, with the cotton feeling as though her tongue was swollen in her mouth, and the ceiling was blurry. It was a common feeling now, but not something she wanted to get used to. But, she was getting used to it. A terrible, awful thing to get used to.

This wasn't her ceiling.

The blur above her became more clear the more she was coming out of sleep. If it could even be called sleep. She didn't dream. She'd been drugged. It was slowly coming back to her, the events that happened, and she wondered for a moment if it had all been a fucked up and twisted nightmare her mind concocted for her.

It was the stress.

It had to be the stress.

Morticia was starting to lose her mind because of this.

But, the ceiling above her was shiny metal, and the walls were coated with vials of liquid, some of them glowing with an assortment of colors. There was no need for light, with the iridescent liquid in them. The place below her was not her bed, and she had no idea where she was, but only knew in the first moments of coming out of confused 'sleep', that it was all wrong. She could only venture a guess she was probably underneath the garage.

She tried to sit up, to make sense of this, to figure out why she wasn't in her room, but the hazy feeling of being drugged was still overwhelming, and in the moment she moved, became aware of a soreness in the side of her neck.

It brought back that moment Rick had jammed the needle in her neck. This was his doing. He did this. He did this to her, he drugged her. Morticia couldn't process all of the thoughts swarming in her mind all at once like this, and tried to focus on shaking the sleep from herself first.

But, she saw him.

In the shadows of the corner of the wall, right next to a large column of green glowing solution, it cast eerie shadows onto him, and she wondered why it had taken her so long to notice him sitting there, staring at her.

Rick shifted in his seat, his flask in his hand, his other arm flopped over the back of the seat as though he'd been sitting there for awhile, and maybe he had. The sight of him made Morticia start for a moment, and she jumped, but everything was going in slow motion again for her, from the effects of the drug.

Just where had he taken her? Was this really under the garage, in one of his underground bunker rooms? It was causing that horrible creep of terror to swell inside of her stomach, and worse of all, making her confused, because of it. She didn't know what to say to him. Didn't know how to react in this situation. She was still trying to argue with herself that the events in her bedroom early hadn't actually happened, that it was all some weird nightmare.

But then, he spoke, his voice oddly hoarse until he didn't even sound like himself. He didn't slur or stutter once, but never broke the stare he was holding with her. "We need to talk."

Morticia stiffened from her position on the floor. The floor that, now that she was coming to more and more, she realized was covered with a ratty looking mattress he'd placed her on top of, with a blanket that looked like he'd been keeping there for a long period of time. She wanted to ask him what this place was, but the fear of what he was about to say to her forced her to clamp her mouth shut. She listened.

When he leaned forward in his chair, the shadows from the green liquid in the glass chamber next to him casted shadows onto his face, making him appear downright frightening in the dim light of this place. It made Morticia draw back a little at the sight of it. She'd never seen her grandpa look so scary before. "Let's get one thing straight, you got it?"

The sound of his voice alone was freaking her out. He never sounded so serious before, and it was so unnerving. This was a drunken, loud and sometimes irrational person, not...this.

"You're not going to open your god damn mouth, you hear me? I-If you think Beth or Jerry's gonna sympathize with you, y-you're fucking wrong."

The haze may have been hanging over her head, but the fear she felt falling into the pit of her stomach was agonizing, until she felt like she was going to vomit. She started shaking on the spot on the floor, never breaking her gaze with Rick as he spoke.

"Beth's not g-gonna kick me out. I-if you go running to her, sh-she won't believe you."

There was something about his tone--something that made Morticia coil back in on herself, and she frowned. He sounded so desperate for some reason, so adamant. When she spoke, her voice was much smaller than she meant for it to be. "H-how do you know...?"

And then he got louder, almost sounding angry even. "You see the shit she lets me get away with? Y-you think if you go to her and t-tell her this shit, she's going to believe it? She won't. So-so, you're gonna keep your mouth shut, do you understand me?"

It sounded less like a threat, and more like she was being scolded by her grandpa for doing something wrong. Morticia felt a shameful reddening in her face creep up, and she had to look away from him.

So it did happen. He really did do it.

She felt tears come to her eyes, but she didn't want to cry in front of him, because he did it. He'd done this.

And he was still talking, still ranting and sounding angry about everything, even though he'd done this. "J-Jerry's a fucking idiot, he wouldn't even notice i-if I brought home a different Morty. God damn, wh-why'd you have t-to wake up like that? You weren't supposed t-to." He then tipped back his flask and took a long drink from it.

Morticia looked back up at him, at the risk of crying, but she had to know some things. This was eating her up inside, and the only way to get him to talk was to ask questions. "How long have you been doing this?"

He shrugged.

All those times she'd woken up feeling like shit. Was it because he'd been drugging her? Spiking her food secretly? Feeding her odd things to make her go to sleep faster? Were those odd marks she'd find on her body sometimes--because of him?

And then--the times she'd find white discharge in her panties--Morticia dry heaved at the thought of that.

He fucked her. He fucked her he fucked her he fucked her--while he drugged her--he'd been fucking her in her sleep for weeks. She wasn't forgetting to put her pajamas on. He was changing her clothes. He was forgetting to put her underwear back on after he fucked her.

She couldn't stop it. The tears finally spilled from her eyes and down her face, and she didn't want to cry in front of him, but she couldn't help it anymore.

Holding her arms up in front of her face as if that would hide her shame from him, Morticia cried into herself. She could feel the heat well up in her cheeks until it was spilling out into her arms. She cried at the thought of Rick sneaking into her room at night to drug her, to fuck her. He'd been fucking her.

"Hey-hey! The fuck's wrong with you?" Even though his voice sounded annoyed and angry, as was his default emotion, she could hear a small hint of...guilt? In his words as well.

And she wiped her face long enough to drop her arm and stare back at him, even though the tears were still falling, even though her face was still red and she probably looked ridiculous. "You know god damn well what's wrong !"

He looked taken aback for a moment, but only a moment, as if the sight of her sobbing this much was surprising. Why would that be surprising? He started stuttering again when he spoke. "Y-you're being a l-l-little bitch about it. Ricks fuck their Mortys all the time."

And the fact he was so casual about it, so nonchalant, as if nothing was wrong, as if this was completely normal behavior, was making Morticia cry even more. Why wasn't he aware of how fucked up this was?

Again, Morticia had to wipe her face with her arms to dry the tears away. His words were making her angry, and sick, all at the same time. She didn't know what to think. "S-so how come y-y-you had to drug me, then?"

"Because I knew you'd be a little bitch about it."

"That's your excuse? D-do you hear yourself right now? D-d-do you realize h-how fucking insane you sound?"

Rick only frowned, but tipped his flask again and drained it. "Wh-whatever."

This was insane. Morticia couldn't believe he was treating this like it was no big fucking deal, when she was having a breakdown and crying. This wasn't something to dismiss like this, and the fact he was brushing her off was pissing her off more and more.

So, she glared up at him, the tears finally stopped, but she could feel how puffy her eyes were, how red and heated her face was, and she already felt exhausted from crying so much. There was so much wrong with this, she didn't know how else to retaliate, and the only thing she could think was spitting out something she knew would freak him out, just to get some kind of reaction from him that wasn't this fucking eye-rolling, passive shit from him. "I'm telling Mom."

That got his attention all right.

Standing from the chair, he was so sudden in the movement, he knocked it over behind him, and loomed over her, glaring right back at her. "Like hell you are."

She felt a small sense of victory from this type of reaction, just seeing him so angry. "I-if she won't believe me, what are you so afraid of?"

"Y-you're really going to tell Beth we fucked, i-is that it?"

Her voice was oddly low when she replied. "I did not fuck you, Rick."

Then, he sounded angrier, and walked closer to her. She expected him to get violent with her, push her around, but he only towered over her from his position when he stopped right in front of her. "Then do it, you little bitch. Go tell her. Go tell Beth right now. I'll e-even follow you there and admit it. I'll tell your mom I fucked you. I-I'll tell her it was all me. So, go do it, do it right now."

Morticia sat on the spot on the floor as Rick glared at her from above. For some reason, she couldn't move. The angry she could feel was dissipating the more he glared down at her. The animosity in his voice, the intimidation he was using on her in that moment, she couldn't deal with it, and started shaking. She couldn't move. She didn't want to tell Mom this. She didn't want her mom thinking she was gross because of this or worse...that she actually asked for this.

She was afraid. Something was telling her that Rick was lying, just trying to get to her and force her into submission, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her head--what if he wasn't? What if Beth took his side and blamed her for everything? What if the whole family found out and Morticia was demonized for this?

She didn't want them thinking less of her.

So, what did she do?

In that moment, she did nothing. With Rick staring at her--glaring at her, his words hanging over her head like something physically tearing at her, she only broke eye contact with him, looking down at the floor, and said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

A long bout of silence followed, when neither of them said a word, and only the bubbling sounds of the vials and random containers of liquid created noise in the room. It felt like hours Morticia sat on the floor, staring off into space, trying to compose herself and calm down, trying to think of what to do, what to say, but she came up empty-handed. Nothing she said was going to make this better, or undo what he'd already done to her.

But, she thought of one thing.

"Rick?" And her voice sounded so exhausted when she spoke, she was almost surprised how tired she'd gotten in that long moment of silence.

"What?"

It hurt to say it, but she wasn't sure what else to say. "Please d-don't drug me anymore. I don't like it."

And she wasn't sure what kind of face he pulled, as she stared at the floor, refusing to look at him. He paused, as if contemplating how to respond, but at least he didn't sound angry when he finally did answer.

"Fine, I won't."

Chapter Text

He wasn't sure when he first started feeling this way. It just sort of...happened. He remembered that one night a while back when he and Morti went on a mission, and she had completely tapped out afterwards, falling asleep in the passenger seat next to him, mouth hung open and everything.

He'd tried not to get too buzzed then, but sipped from his flask nonetheless, occasionally glancing over her way, and noticed the little way her mouth quivered in sleep, the way her eyes twitched, and the small snores that came once in awhile.

It wasn't just that one isolated incident, either.

He'd been looking at her for awhile, but for how long, he wasn't quite sure. It was that one moment, that one quiet moment in the ship he had the music turned down, and heard the small sounds Morti would make in her sleep, that he started thinking--she was so god damn beautiful.

No other Rick had anything on him. Just look at the Morty he'd gotten in this universe. Look how lucky he'd gotten. Those other Ricks would probably be jealous if he ever showed up at the Citadel with her, and he'd be secretly proud to know that he could flaunt her around in that sense. It was such a sleazy thing to think, but he still thought of it.

But, when he denied it to himself at first, refused to believe it, it hit him twice as hard when he first masturbated to her. He'd gotten really high on some alien drugs he'd snagged (okay stolen) earlier in the evening, and he was prepared to have a good time, but--

He ended up thinking about her.

Why her? Why Morti? That was so fucked up, but there he was, moaning out her name, fantasizing about her being in his lap, looking at him through her thick bangs, and smiling at him. He shivered at the idea of her doing that to him, at her straddling him and going down on him while she bounced up and down and rode him all night long.

When he came, it had felt wonderful at the time, but he quickly came down from the high, and felt a piercing feeling shoot straight into his gut.

The fuck was wrong with him? The fuck the fuck the fuck ? That was the most messed up high he'd ever been on. He couldn't believe at the time he'd just came to the thought of Morti of all people. Normally, he'd jack off to alien porn or better yet, actually fuck an alien, but the high was leaving him the more he sat in a state of shock with himself, alone in his room, breathing hard, and feeling like absolute shit.

Well, at least he knew never to huff that alien shit ever again.

It didn't help any that he couldn't sleep after that, the feeling of what he'd done still lingering over his head, haunting him. Even after the night was over, he was consumed by the idea of what he'd done.

It wasn't supposed to matter, but it did. He'd jacked off to some weeeird shit in his life, but never thought he would stoop this low. The fuck? He couldn't even look at Morti in the eye the next day, that awful guilty feeling eating him up inside. She didn't need to know about that. But, he had that irrational feeling that if he so much as breathed the same air as her, she would find him out and call him out.

That was stupid, but.

Then she started talking about Jessica. Fucking. Jessica . And he perked up a bit. Just who the fuck was Jessica? The way Morti talked about her, Rick figured she was the friggin princess of a nearby planet. Morti would go on and on sometimes, about how pretty Jessica was, about how much she liked Jessica, about how shy she was to talk to Jessica.

And he could feel that awful feeling creep up again. He never really thought of the fact that Morti was actually a young teenager, and was going to develop crushes on people at her school, and be interested in dating, but to be hit in the face with it all at once, to see how infatuated she was with a single person--made him feel like shit all over again.

He didn't like that, but he couldn't figure out why.

He only knew the moment she started talking about Jessica, with that content look on her face, the way she would light up as though the mere thought of Jessica sent her soaring, he had to stand up and leave the room. Her stupid teenaged gushing about a girl she barely knew always pissed him off. How did she know that girl would ever even like her back? How did Morti know she wouldn't turn her down?

Sometimes, he wished she would take the plunge and ask Jessica out, just to be rejected. At least then, she wouldn't put her on a pedestal anymore.

It was a particularly bad night at home, when Beth asked Morti and Summer how school was, and Morti instantly started talking about Jessica, that Rick had to get up and leave again. Normally, nobody questioned him and he did whatever he wanted, but Beth called him out.

"Dad? You didn't touch dinner and you're already leaving?"

He shrugged. "Uhhh...gotta w-work on something s-s-super important, sweetie." Like Beth ever questioned him. Even though Jerry was frowning at him, and giving him the evil-eye, Beth always let him off the hook.

"Okay, I'll save you a plate."

"Don't bother." He really didn't feel like eating, or being around them. Or both. He just needed to get out of the house fast, away from that stupid gushing Morti would do that always drove him absolutely insane .

He ended up in the garage, whipping out his portal gun, and wound up in some other universe. He barely bothered to look at the coordinates he punched in. It was some kind of bar, filled with Ricks who were all laughing loudly, drinking, or taking drugs in the corner. Right. This was a better place to spend his night than having dinner with his family, at least.

Least here he could drink all his problems away. When he sat down at the bar, the bartender Rick turned to him, and he spat out his order before he could even be greeted. "I-I don't care what you put in it, b-b-but give me something strong."

"Rough night?"

He replied by scoffing and turning his gaze down at the table. Rough night wasn't even the half of it, he'd just been in a shitty mood lately, but couldn't really pinpoint exactly why and that only pissed him off even more.

So, the only logical thing was to down it with alcohol. At least that numbed his senses for awhile where he didn't have to focus on it. When the bartender Rick slid a glass across the table to him, he wasted no time in downing it, slamming the glass back down and demanding another.

Then another.

And another.

Ughhhhhhhh . He was definitely feeling that. Whatever bartender Rick put in his drink, it was fucking him up more than usual. He wondered if he'd spiked it with drugs, but it wasn't like he cared. Knowing himself, he probably did. It was doing the job. He could feel himself begin to sway in his seat, and knew it was hitting him. Well, he didn't really feel like going home in this position, and it wasn't like it would hurt to sit around and drink for awhile. He might even get up and play poker or something with the other Ricks. Maybe.

Then, someone sat down next to him, rousing him from his own thoughts, but he didn't have to look up to know it was another Rick. It was the fact he spoke to him, that made him raise his head and look back. "Whoaa, you're getting fucked up."

When he did finally lift his head, he noticed immediately the Rick had a Morty with him, who was looking around curiously, like he'd never been in a bar before. The bartender slid a glass to the other Rick, who scooped it up in his hand. Rick expected him to drink, but was taken aback when the other Rick reached over, gripping his Morty's arm gently and held the drink up to him.

Without question, Morty began to drink, and Rick could see his face recoil at the taste of it. Whatever it was, it was obviously gross, but he was pushing through, until he downed the whole glass.

The other Rick pulled him in close by his arm and grinned at him. "Was it good? Did you like it?"

Morty nodded. "Y-yeah, I did..." He gave a shy smile, before the other Rick pushed the glass back for another refill. "I w-want more, Rick."

Rick was watching this whole scene unfold with confusion. He couldn't help but stare at the pair as they exchanged some weird conversation, as if each word they spoke had some double, secret meaning behind it, and he couldn't ignore how this Morty had almost a...flirtatious, if that were the right word, flow about him.

Anytime the other Rick would engage eye contact with him, Morty would let out a tiny giggle, bat his eyes, and take a sip of the drink he was given as though it were some glorified gift bestowed upon him.

Rick was staring, and couldn't help it. It was obvious by the way they talked to one another, that something else was going on here. As he downed his drink (he'd lost count which number he was up to), the Morty in front of him got more and more drunk, until he was swaying, and had to grip the other Rick for support.

"Umm...?" His words were slurred, and he grabbed hold of the other Rick's coat to keep himself from falling over into the bar. "I...I don't feel t-too good..."

The other Rick smiled at him, and held onto his wrists to keep him balanced. "You want grandpa to take you home?"

Morty nodded. "Yeeeah...t-take me home. Th-then t-t-take me to my room a-and fuck me."

Rick choked on his drink, almost spitting it out. Okay, maybe he'd had too much, because there was no way he'd heard that right.

The other Rick and Morty looked at him after he started choking and coughing on his drink, his throat now burning from the fact he probably choked on a bunch of liquor and drugs mixed in, but he took another swig to stop the fit of coughs.

The other Rick looked at him like he was stupid. "The fuck's wrong w-with you? You getting too fucked up there?"

And now he was drunk, because when he responded, he could barely form his words right. "Uhhh-- ugh --maybe, b-but--did h-he just s-s-say what I- ugh -think he said?"

"What?"

"Y-y-you fuck y-your Morty?" There's no way he heard that right. Maybe that Morty had gotten too drunk and was saying nonsense.

But then, the other Rick shrugged, and spoke matter-of-factly when he placed a hand on Morty's shoulder, who leaned into him slightly. "Ricks fuck their Mortys all the time."

What?

Was he hearing this right? No way, he wasn't drunk enough for this. Well, he was definitely drunk, but not enough for this. He took another long gulp of his drink. He couldn't recall a time when he'd ever seen a Rick so touchy with his Morty, much less one that admitted they fucked. He needed something heavier than drugs for this.

But, the other Rick interjected, interrupting his thoughts. "You mean, you don't fuck your Morty?"

He didn't respond. Of course he didn't, he didn't have to answer for that to become apparent.

"Do it."

He almost choked a second time, but managed to swallow everything in his mouth and give the other Rick a look of shock, as he leered in at him, grinning in a way he could only describe as creepy. "Wh-what?"

"Do it. Fuck your Morty. He'll love it, promise me." As he spoke, the other Rick pulled his Morty closer, until he was squished into him, and Morty wrapped his arms around him to keep himself steady. He still swayed from being drunk, but now he was smiling at Rick in that creepy way too, with lidded eyes.

But, when Morty spoke, Rick felt a chill run up his spine. As he grinned in that way, he never broke eye contact with him. "Yeah. Do it, old man."

Was he hearing this right? He couldn't be hearing this right. No way he heard all that right. He must've passed out at the bar and gotten too fucked up from drugs. Maybe he really did wind up playing poker with the other Ricks, until he passed out in his own vomit on the floor. That would be a better explanation than this.

He started shaking a little in his seat, clutching his glass, but couldn't bring himself to take another swig. "I-I don't th-think she'd like that..." Wait, was he actually considering this? No...he couldn't. But, he couldn't deny that seeing the way that other Morty looked at him--fucking excited him. He could feel it, deep down, that same feeling he remembered when he first thought about his Morti. It made him shake even harder. That look in his eyes...he wanted Morti to look at him that way too.

The other Rick made a sound of surprise. "You've got a girl Morty? Damn."

He didn't respond to that one. Still lost in his thoughts, he was in a state of drunk where he couldn't really articulate his thoughts in an organized fashion, so everything was jumbled up. He still denied any of this was being said to him, or that that other Morty was still staring at him with that hungry look in his eyes, like he wanted to consume him.

"You even want to fuck your Morty?" the other Rick asked.

In his drunken state, his filter was leaving him as well, and he answered honestly. "Y-yeah. I've th- ugh -thought about it, but--"

"Then do it. A lot of Ricks do it, and Mortys love it." As he said the last part, he tugged on his Morty to pull him close, and Morty's face lit a tight smile. "Right, Morty?"

Morty nodded. "Y-yeah. We love it."

Rick finally lifted his drink and took another swig as the other Morty stared at him. He couldn't look at him. If he looked at him--he wasn't sure what would happen, but it didn't feel good.

The other Rick waved at him, before gripping his Morty by the arm. "Well, whatever you do, good luck. Maybe you can bring your Morty by here sometime. I'm sure there's some Ricks who'd like a turn with her." He gave a lewd wink before pulling out his portal gun and jumping through a newly created portal with his Morty right behind him.

That last comment was pissing off Rick. The fuck did he mean by that? Of course he wasn't going to bring Morti here to let other Ricks take advantage of her. The thought alone pissed him off more than anything. The thought of some other Rick touching her while she looked at him the way that Morty looked at him --he gulped and felt that terrible feeling sink down into his stomach.

Just what the fuck what the fuck? He wasn't hammered enough for this.

If only Morti looked at him that way. If she looked at him that way--he'd lose his mind. He would lose his fucking mind. He started fantasizing about that first night, where she'd sit in his lap, and ride him, while he'd lie back and let her. When he came to that thought.

But, the thought of her doing that with another Rick...

He stood away from the bar, almost falling over immediately. Oh fuck...he shouldn't have stood up. Maybe he'd gotten more hammered than he thought. But, he needed to go home now. If he stayed here any longer with these fucks--he started swearing through his teeth as he stumbled around for his portal gun. Oh fuck--where was it--there it was. God damn, he was so wasted.

How ironic that he wanted to be around more of himself, but now he was getting pissed off by the other Ricks. That one bastard who made the comment about Morti...what the fuck? It made him paranoid in the sense he started thinking, what if he went to his universe and kidnapped her? No, that was stupid, he had his own Morty, but the thought was buzzing around in his head. Some other Rick taking his Morti away. She was his, not theirs.

He almost fell on his face once he jumped through the portal and landed in the garage. If he hadn't caught himself on the desk, he would have fallen over and broken his nose. Oh god--he was fucked up. This was way more fucked up than he ever thought.

He spotted a substance on his desk, and reached for it, sloshing it around in the bottle. He remembered when he and Morti stole this last week, and it had been sitting on his desk ever since. It hadn't really been something he toyed with, and couldn't remember why he even needed it in the first place.

But, he picked it up, and reached in a nearby drawer for a clothed rag.

This was fucked up, but he also didn't care. If he could make sure she didn't know what was happening, it wouldn't drive him insane afterward.

They had told him she'd love it, but he couldn't see that happening. Not after all the times she gushed about Jessica. Ugh, just thinking about the way Morti talked about her made him annoyed. The fuck did she even see in that Jessica girl anyway?

He tried not to think about it--when he took the damp cloth and stumbled his way into the house. It was dark, and everyone was asleep. He wasn't sure how late it was, but that didn't matter.

Once he made his way into Morti's room, she was already asleep, tucked under the covers and curled up onto her side. He quietly closed her door behind him, locking it. At least in the state he was in, he remembered to do that. It was difficult, but he had to be quiet, and not fuck this up. He stumbled, but as long as he didn't wake her up. She was probably exhausted lately from their adventures, but that was okay too.

She didn't stir, not even when he held the cloth around her nose. She was already asleep, but this would make it so she didn't wake up. At least for awhile. He didn't want her waking up and finding him out. That other Rick and Morty be damned, he couldn't see any conceivable future where Morti would reciprocate this.

He had to be careful, and that was hard to do when he was hammered like this. When he held the cloth away from her face and gently pushed her onto her back, Morti didn't move at all.

Oh fuck, he didn't accidentally overdose her, did he? Panicking, he crawled over to her still form, and held his hand in front of her nose. It was light, but he could feel her breathing, and sighed out in relief. Oh thank fuck, he didn't accidentally kill her. Fuck, fuck, he had to be careful. He was sure he hadn't done too much, but he wasn't in his right state of mind, and could feel himself swaying even as he tried to straighten himself out.

He looked at her for awhile. To him, it looked like she was still sleeping, but he knew now she'd been drugged not to wake up from it. When he gripped her bare shoulder, shaking lightly to test this, she didn't move at all.

He swallowed, wetting his throat. Even like this, she was so beautiful. The way her hair curled around her perfectly, the way her mouth hung over slightly in sleep, hell, even the pajamas she was wearing were cute. He started shaking. She would never know this happened. It was fine. He could do whatever he wanted.

He wished he'd brought his flask in with him.

He started moving his fingers down the side of her face. He still couldn't believe he was doing this, or that he finally thought of a way he could do this without her finding out. He swallowed again, thinking, maybe it would have been better to fuck another Morty, but it wouldn't be the same.

She was his Morti.

The way that other Morty at the bar looked at up him, through drunken, lidded eyes. He started fantasizing about taking his Morti out like that one day. Maybe he'd buy her a drink, and she'd get tipsy like that, leaning into him and call him 'grandpa'.

He got excited just thinking about it. Fuck, the idea of those kinds of things coming from her mouth, it drove him insane.

He was here right now, straddling her, and felt his finger around the edge of her mouth. Her lips were so soft, and he swayed a little from the side, struggling to keep himself held up. It couldn't be helped. He leaned down, and kissed her.

And fuck --did it feel good. Never in his life did he think kissing Morti would feel this good. She was so soft against him, so wonderful. He was obsessed with more of her. He needed more. Just kissing her wasn't going to be enough for him tonight.  

Peeling back the blanket, he got the full view of her pajamas. She'd dressed herself in a little night gown, with spaghetti straps and he hovered over her for a moment, staring, marveling at her. This was a side of Morti he never got to see, only those moments she'd fall asleep in the ship, but it felt like he was seeing a whole new Morti. A more vulnerable Morty.

Trying to keep himself upright, he nabbed the strap of her nightgown and gently pulled it down her shoulder, until her collar bone was exposed. He thought he was going to lose it. Why did his Morti have to be so perfect? It was almost unfair. But, he got to touch her. He was doing this, right now, here, and the more he touched at random spots of her skin, the more he could feel that obsessive feeling grow.

Fuck those other Ricks who thought he was going to bring her in for them. She was his. His . And he would be god fucking damn if he let them so much as look at her. Only he got to do this. This was his special privilege, and fuck did it feel fantastic. He was going to let the others know how fantastic one day.

When he pulled her gown up to expose her panties, he could feel his excitement begin to peak. This was all too much for him, even as hammered as he was, if he spent too much time marveling at her this way, he was going to lose himself in that alone.

But, he didn't have anything to worry about.

He tugged her panties off, and she was exposed beneath him. He could do whatever he wanted to her. It wasn't like she would know about it. If he wanted to shove his dick into her, he could do that too.

He did wish she was awake, though. So that she could look up at him, and smile, stare at him until he was hard and wanting more from her.

He propped her thighs up and drew circles into her skin. He wanted to hear the moans she'd make, the way she'd call out his name, begging for more. It would be such a sweet sound, the way she'd call out his name. Fuck, he would love that. To hear her call his name.

With her thighs propped up on either side of him, he leaned over, and put his mouth on her. There was no movement from her, but he wanted to imagine if she was awake, she'd be squirming underneath him. She'd grab his hair, yank on it, and beg for more, maybe even tell him she wanted more.

But, he ate her out as if she was awake. He sucked up and down as if she was begging him to, as if she was demanding it from him. He didn't care if she was unconscious, and he had to hold her up, he sucked against her, and he fucking loved it.

There was a small twitch of movement from her, and he heard a small, almost unheard, but he definitely heard it, moan from her.

He stopped immediately. The feeling of her moving beneath him sobered him up like nothing else. He straightened himself up and leaned back, so he could see her face, but she hadn't woken up. Her eyes twitched as if she were trying, but only managed to make small, strained noises that bubbled out of her throat.

"Fuck."

He drew away from her, wondering if he hadn't given her enough of the substance to keep her asleep. What if she woke up and saw him straddling her? What if she saw him leaning over her while her clothes were bunched up around her? How in the hell did he explain that one?

There was no explaining it and he sat there, frozen in fear as he watched Morti twitch for a few moments beneath him, before falling completely still once again. Once he was sure she wasn't waking up, he tried to breathe, and sat there. He just sat there.

That had been too close. Way too close. Close enough that he found her panties beside him, worked them back up her legs to redress her, and straightened her gown back out around her.

Fuck, that was too close. If he fucked her, she might wake up. But, if he gave her more drugs, he might accidentally overdose her, and he sure as fuck didn't want to do that. Fuck, fuck, he was still panicking a little, and stood away from her bed, not looking back at her, but quietly stepping out of her bedroom and into the dark hallway.

He leaned his back against the door and breathed. That was way too close. He was supposed to be careful, but he almost got caught.

It took everything he had left in him to calm the hell down as he stood there breathing. And when he made it back to the garage, contemplated drinking some more to get rid of this feeling fast, but he thought of something else.

That had been a disaster, but next time he would be more careful. He already thought of it. He could put something in her food and she would get sleepy. Go to bed early, and he would make sure it was the right amount this time to knock her out.

Next time?

That idea kind of excited him. Yeah, next time. He would do this right. He'd get in his right mind, think it through a little more, then he wouldn't screw this up. He'd give her the right amount that she wouldn't remember this, or she wouldn't wake up from, and--and he'd make sure nothing went wrong.

Next time.



Chapter Text

Three days.

It had been three days since Morticia had woken up that morning and felt like shit, but that wasn't anything new. There weren't any signs she'd been drugged that night, from what she could tell. It felt like any other morning she needed to wake up for school, the alarm blaring in her ear, her exhausted eyes barely wanting to open, but that wasn't anything unusual either.

She sighed, and pulled out her phone to silence the alarm which was increasing in volume the more she put off turning it off. When she stood out of bed, it was almost a surprise to feel sober. Standing up, she didn't feel like her whole brain had bits of cotton stuck in it, nor did she feel like she needed to down ten glasses of water to wet her parched throat.

For once.

She shivered a little. It felt so weird to think of it as 'for once'. For once, she was waking up normally, if not a little sleepy, but no worse for wear. For once, she could head into the bathroom without feeling like the world was leaving her behind. For once, she could pretend things were normal for awhile.

That morning when Summer complained about her using the bathroom before her, Morticia only stopped everything she was doing and let herself out. Even though her sister was complaining about it, she just nodded and walked into the hall, down the stairs, and to the kitchen.

When she saw him there, she almost choked on herself, but opted to head back out of the room. She couldn't look at him, didn't want to be in the same room as him. She could feel her heart rate flying the moment she saw him, and when she ducked back out of the doorway, tried to calm herself down. Maybe he didn't see her. She didn't want to face him, or talk to him.

But then, "Morticia, honey? I made breakfast." Mom called to her, and she didn't want to be weird. Didn't want her asking her questions about why she was acting like this, and started shaking again when she tried to pretend to be normal. Nothing was wrong. She stared down at her bare feet, counted her toes one by one, tried to do some monotonous task to keep herself calm.

And then faced around to walk through the doorway again. Mom was there. Rick was there. Beth had made pancakes, and turned to smile at her when she entered the doorway, but Morticia's gaze was fixed to the floor. If she looked up, she didn't know what to do if Rick looked back at her. She felt so exposed, even being out here in the kitchen this way. If only she could shrink down to a smaller size. If only she could disappear--he couldn't see her.

"Are you feeling okay?" The moment she heard that worried tone in her mother's voice, Morticia had to snap herself out of this. She had to pretend, if just for a little while, and then forced herself to look up from the floor.

But, she couldn't smile. She only nodded. "Sorry, I-I'm just tired." It was a half-assed excuse, but the only thing she could think of on the spot.

Beth looked worried for only a moment, before handing her a plate of pancakes. "Then, you should eat some breakfast. What time did you get to bed last night?"

Morticia shrugged. "I don't remember."

"I'm telling you, honey, you need to get to bed earlier so you can catch up on your sleep."

Morticia grimaced. She would have if she hadn't been up half the night afraid out of her mind Rick was going to sneak into her room and pump her full of drugs. Even though he said he wouldn't, she didn't believe him. She had every right to be suspicious of him, after what he did.

She still couldn't believe he admitted he fucked her. It was screwing with her mind so much so, it was all she could think of. There was no way she could focus at school, when that tiny little voice was screaming at her from the back of her head--

'Your grandpa fucked you your grandpa fucked you your grandpa fucked you--'

And she'd spent all this time thinking she just wasn't getting enough sleep. She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been, not to realize, but why would she ever consider him capable of doing something like that?

She dared to look up once more, after Beth handed her the syrup and she'd sat down at the table. He wasn't looking back, appearing to be immersed in his own breakfast, but Morticia was recoiling on the inside. That she had to sit down in front of him like this, eat breakfast with him, pretend nothing happened. And he was going along with it too.

Nothing was wrong.

Except everything was wrong.

She was sitting down at the breakfast table in front of him, not looking at him, staring at her food, trying not to think about it with Mom right next to her. Even as she tried to break apart her pancakes and nibble on the edge a little, it was the hardest thing she ever had to do, sit there and keep everything from going to hell inside.

So far, she had been able to avoid him for the most part. He hadn't come dragging her off on a random adventure in three days. But, in those three days, Morticia still had to trudge through her daily life while he lingered around the house. She avoided being in the same room with him, not wanting to converse, not wanting to look at him, and went to school like normal.

Three days hadn't been a very long time.

When she looked up to see Mom chatting with him about something, and he'd made a loud annoying remark, and then Mom laughed--it constricted her chest so bad to the point she thought she would choke not being able to breathe. For him to come inside and act as though nothing was wrong, talk to Beth as though he hadn't fucked her daughter, walk around the house like he owned the place, and still--he still held that over her.

Morticia couldn't tell them. Beth would never believe her even if she did, but it was consuming her. If not that, then she wished she could talk to her about letting her live somewhere else. Maybe with an aunt or uncle. Somewhere Rick wouldn't bother her. She felt so trapped staying in this house, and ironically, felt like school was the only safe place to be during the day.

It was Friday again.

Morticia woke up, washed her face in the bathroom, changed her clothes, brushed her teeth, and left the house. Most of the time Summer would go to school with her, but she woke up early for once, and had finished all her morning routines by the time Summer even dragged herself out of bed.

She was alone only in the moment of the morning when nobody else was awake. Not even Rick. Not that she would know, since she avoided him altogether. She kept fearing he would appear around a random corner, or sneak into her room at night, to drag her away on an adventure. If that's what he was calling those things now.

She couldn't do that anymore. Before when she complained about it, even breaking out into fights with him over what a selfish asshole he was, it was never like this. It was never to the point Morticia was--

Afraid.

She was afraid of him.

Because now she knew what he was capable of, what lengths he was going to go, just for himself. He didn't give a single fuck about her and how far down he had to drag her, but for him to do...do that.

She was scared. Scared of him. Of the unknown. If he had done that to her, then who knew what else he was capable of. It scared her, it scared her. That the noises she heard in the middle of the night could be him, but also might not be him. He could be sneaking into her room again to shoot her up with drugs.

Or it could be the air conditioner making a racket because Jerry never fixed it last week.

It was Friday, and Morticia was tired.

She couldn't focus in school, not that she could focus before, but she had been up again the night before, her late nights sometimes dragging into 4am or even an all nighter, and she found herself nodding off in class. One teacher scolded her for it, snapping at her to pay attention, and she had to force herself to stay awake the rest of the class, even though her eyes were burning, she couldn't pay attention.

She skipped lunch that day, opting instead to rest her head on the table and take a short nap. It was hard, with all the buzzing of every other high schooler walking around, clattering trays or laughing with each other loudly, and she wondered if it was a bad idea. Every second she would nod off, something would jerk her back awake, until Morticia finally left the cafeteria, deciding she may as well hide in the library.

It was quiet there, at least. She could take one of the tables and sleep, at least for ten minutes. Just ten minutes. Once she settled herself down at the table and rested her head against it, she nodded off.

Only to be awakened by the bell ringing. It was like her alarm clock going off, except way more loud and jarring, and she wondered if she had miscalculated, because she had just gotten to sleep. But, one look at the clock on the wall told her she had been asleep for twenty minutes. Lunch was over. It was time to get back to class.

Needless to say, she didn't feel all that rested.

It was difficult to stay awake the rest of the day, but Morticia felt like the hours ticked by all too fast at the same time. Class was boring, boring enough to consider staying awake torture, but she was facing her locker again that day, ready to grab what she needed for the weekend.

She stared at the books inside for a moment, as she realized she hadn't paid attention all day long. There wasn't any point in taking a book home, adding that extra weight to her backpack, when she wasn't even sure what her homework was. Morticia had been in a daze all day, and still was.

But, she didn't want to go home. It was like leaving the safety of school, just to go back there. It wasn't safe there. School may have been boring, but at least she felt some sense of security here, even though it didn't make any sense.

Rick had a habit of taking her away from school when he saw fit, to drag her on a random adventure. He could pop up anywhere, anytime, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Morticia sighed. If only she had some friends. Friends she could spend the night with, stay the whole weekend with, and go somewhere else when school was over for the day, so she didn't have to go home. She didn't want to go home right now. Even as the students near her cleared out their lockers, grabbing their bags and scurrying out the door as if they couldn't wait to go home, she felt sour they got to be excited about that.

It was the weekend.

Morticia almost considered running away. There was no one  here to tell her she had to go home, but she wasn't sure where to go either. When she tried to think of an excuse to put off going home, she would still have to call Mom and tell her where she was. And Mom would probably tell Rick. He would know regardless.

"Hey, Morti." And it was Jessica's voice that brought her out of her thoughts. She normally jumped at the sound of her own name, especially when it was Jessica who was saying it, but she was running on virtually no sleep, and only looked up at her when she sidled close.

A small blush still crept to her cheeks, though. No matter what was going on at home, she still felt shy around her crush. "H-hi..." Her eyes downcast to the floor almost immediately. It felt like if she looked her in the eye, then Jessica would know what was going on somehow.

She did notice something was wrong, though, as Morticia could hear a tone of worry enter her voice. "Are you okay? You've seen out of it all day."

Morticia nodded, reaching up to rub at her eyes as she tried to silence that nagging voice in the back of her head that was repeating the same thing to her all day long, ' he fucked you he fucked you he fucked you.' Still, she tried her best not to look suspicious that anything was wrong. "Y-yeah. Just didn't g-get a lot of sleep last night."

Jessica still looked a little worried when she finally brought her face up, but gave her a small smile when she did. "Oh, I'm sorry. You should go home and get some sleep." She then did that adorable thing--the thing where she shifted back and forth on her feet. "I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime this weekend?"

Morticia woke up instantly. "Y- yeah ! I mean--" And bit her lip at her too-quick response. She sounded so desperate, and maybe she was, but she felt her face go red as she tried to calm down. "I-I-I'd love to hang out. Of course."

Jessica didn't seem bothered by her embarrassing outburst, and even giggled a little at it. God, Morticia thought she was going to melt from that. "Okay. I'll text you tomorrow."

And that was that. She had plans. She had a valid excuse to leave the house for once, and this time it wasn't with Rick on a stupid adventure, it was with her crush. Still blushing a little, she nodded at Jessica's statement, still blushing even after she smiled at her and walked past her with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

Morticia turned to face her locker one final time and sighed yet again. There was no point in bringing her books home now. She wished she could have asked Jessica if she could spend the night, but that would have been too forward of her. She still couldn't believe Jessica was even giving her the time of day. Morticia always thought she wasn't her type, but maybe she was.

Tugging her backpack onto her shoulder, Morticia closed her locker before she turned to head down the hallway. It was time to go home.


 

Walking through the front door of her house was like trying to pry open a big steel door that was stuck. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the door, but Morticia could feel hesitation in the way she turned the handle, not wanting to walk over the threshold, not wanting to close the door behind her, and not wanting to enter the house. But. At least she could find some solace in the fact Jessica wanted to hang out with her at some point this weekend.

She could find some small joy in that.

Nobody was around when she walked through to the kitchen, as if the whole house had been abandoned. It was Friday after all, maybe Mom and Dad went out on a date. There was always the possibility Summer was hanging out with her friends as well. Morticia decided not to hang around in one place for long. Quickly, she made her way up the stairs and to her room, shutting the door and locking it behind her.

It wouldn't make a difference if she did lock the door, but it gave her a sense of security for some reason. Morticia needed all the security she could afford right now. After locking her door, she pulled her shoes off and immediately fell onto her bed, burying her head into the pillow. It felt so good to be in her bed. If she could just nap for a little while, or even sleep the whole night, she didn't care, she thought she'd feel so much better than she did.

It wasn't long when she'd first collapsed onto her bed, that she soon fell asleep. Whatever dreams had come and gone in her head were forgotten the moment she woke back up, now encased in her dark room. She was in the same position she'd been when she first fell onto the bed, hanging on her side. It'd been hours, and she hadn't moved. Moonlight leaked in from her window and sprayed the floor with a stretch of light to let her know it was indeed several hours later. From beyond her bedroom door, she could see the light from the hallway peeking in through the cracks of the door, and could hear the indistinct voices of her mom and dad talking from downstairs.

But, that's not what had woken her.

As she slowly started coming out of sleep, she became aware that someone had sat down next to her on the bed, and it roused her from sleep. When she felt hands come to her arms and begin to pull at her shirt, it woke her up completely.

She jerked awake when she realized Rick was in the room with her, hovering over her on the bed and in the process of trying to straddle her, but as she flipped over onto her back, she reached up to snatch hold of his hand that was trying to pull her shirt up.

And her voice was shaking when she spoke. "Wh-wh-what are you doing?" She meant for it to come out as a demand, but couldn't force that tone to her voice no matter how hard she tried.

It threw her off when he frowned at her, shaking her hand away from him when he gave her a hard stare. "Wh-what's it look like I'm doing?" He wasn't even drunk, and that scared her even more for some reason. Rick was sober and still doing this to her.

"You--you..." She swallowed, trying to will the words out when she had to look away from him, not being able to stand that expression on his face. "Y-you said y-y-you weren't going t-to do this anymore..."

"Uhhh, when the fuck did I say that?" He leaned into her more as he spoke, until she could feel his weight beginning to trap her down into the bed.

Morticia panicked, trying to think of a response, but too focused on the fact he had worked his way on top of her, and was pulling at her shirt again, even though she reached up again to push his hands off her. "I-I thought--" But she had to swallow to wet her throat. She was starting to shake and couldn't compose herself long enough to get out a coherent sentence. Why was he doing this to her?

"You said you didn't want to be drugged, so I'm not drugging you." And the way he said that so matter-of-factly, as if this was her idea, made her sick to her stomach. Even as she pushed at his hands, he only batted her attempts away as if she were nothing.

But, when she felt his hands against the bare flesh of her stomach, at how cold they were, she found herself spitting out, "W-wait, wait!" Recoiling at that feeling, shivering underneath the cold of him, she tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, but was failing.

He stopped, giving her another hard stare, now looking annoyed and impatient. "What."

Morticia looked past him, at her doorway. She could still hear the unmistakable sounds of the voices of her parents echoing from downstairs. At some point, Summer had turned her stereo on and Morticia could hear the sounds of the bass vibrating from the walls. She tried to focus on all of that, instead of looking at Rick again. "Y-you can't do this here. S-someone is going t-to hear you." Waiting, she wasn't sure if he was going to take that as an excuse to stop and get off her or not, but he paused for a long moment.

"Shit, you're right." And he stood up, leaning up off the bed and standing to his feet.

Morticia lay frozen in her position on the bed for a moment, wondering if perhaps he was going to leave and forget about this. But, the moment he straightened himself up, he pulled at his coat pockets, digging around for something until he produced the portal gun. He opened a portal in her room before roughly grabbing her by the arms and yanking her out of bed.

"W-wait!"

Ignoring her protests, he pulled her to her feet before tugging her along through the portal, and she recognized the place he'd taken them too. It was hard not to recognize all those glowing green vials and containers full of fluorescent liquid that gave the underground room beneath the garage a creepy glow to it.

Morticia wanted to pull away from him and head back into the portal, back to her room, but it closed behind her, and she found herself alone with him apart from the eerie glow of the test tubes surrounding her. She struggled to think of something to say, but only fumbled out the words, "Um--um" over and over.

He let go of her wrist, turning to her. "Happy now?"

Morticia couldn't believe him. Why was he treating this like it was nothing? Why was he acting as though she were the one being unreasonable and making demands from him? At his question, she could only look to the floor, too stunned to respond. There was no way he was seriously going to--

He moved, and Morticia jumped at the sudden movement, thinking he was going to reach out for her, but he only reached into his coat pocket to remove his flask before taking a long gulp of it. She was still trying to think of something to say to him, and was denying to herself that he was going to try something with her. What other reason would he have to seclude them in the bunker like this? He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't go that far.

She had to keep telling herself that, at least.

She was scared, shaking and cowering before him, feeling so small and insignificant. If only she could go away, disappear in front of him, and meld into the walls of this place. At least that would be better.

It was when he took her by the arm and yanked her toward him that she was snapped from her thoughts, and she struggled in his hold again, panicking all over, trying not to let the horrified noises inside her come out.

"Hey--hey!" He sounded so taken aback by her struggles, as he pulled her close to him, that his voice was breaking as she pulled away from him. "Nobody is going to hear us, okay? S-stop freaking out already."

No, no, he couldn't mean that. Morticia tried to speak back, to curb the screams she wanted to release, but he had such a tight grip on her. It only made her panic even more. "Wh-what are you s-s-saying? Y-you've gotta-gotta let me go a-and l-let me go back to my room."

When he pulled her so close, her face was forcibly buried into his front, the last of her words were muffled as she pulled against him, but his next sentence sent chills down her back until she froze. "If y-you don't stop, I'll drug you again."

He couldn't be serious, right?

With his tight grip around her, and his hand pressing the back of her head so hard, she was suffocating against him, she froze and didn't dare move. If he was serious... She didn't know what to say, or what to do. What if he was serious? What if he shoved the needle in her neck and she woke up hours later in a daze after he had fucked her?

Morticia wasn't sure which was worse. She didn't want him to drug her, didn't want to wake up later with the knowledge he had done something awful to her in her unconscious state. But, when she stopped moving, she could feel the hand against her head leave, and pull at the back of her shirt until her back was exposed. He ran his cold fingers up her spine, and she shivered at the feeling.

Whatever feeling he was trying to initiate with her, she didn't understand. She couldn't understand what he was trying to do. It was when he found the clip of her bra and started tugging, she inhaled too fast, almost choking on it, and he pulled away from her in that moment.

The expression on his face was so difficult for her to comprehend. She was so used to seeing him angry and yelling, bitching about what a fuck up she'd been if she messed up on one of their adventures. But.

There was a strange look of ease on his face, and it scared her. "Take your shirt off."

Morticia froze, not daring to move. He couldn't be serious, there was no way he was serious, she was starting to shake again. He wasn't serious.

"I said take your shirt off."

When he snapped at her, his voice full of irritation now, she could only think of him jamming a needle into her neck if she didn't comply, and gripped the ends of her shirt, slowly easing it up and over her head. The noise he made sent a horrible feeling straight into her stomach. He make a gasping sound, before he moved back into her, tugging her close to him. Gripping at the clip of her bra again, he barely struggled with undoing it before she felt the too-familiar feeling of the whole thing collapsing around her.

"God, y-you're beautiful. H-h-have I ever told you that before? You're beautiful." As he spoke, he pulled at the straps on her shoulders, moving her bra down her arms until he worked it off her arms and discarded it on the floor.

Morticia couldn't look at him, couldn't stand that awful way his voice sounded. This was so fucked up, and he was fucked up too. When he gripped her shoulders for support and she flinched away from him at first, he made a move, bending at his knees as he dropped to the floor in front of her.

She was trying so hard not to look at him, to look at the space behind him, or focus on something else. Even though it was hard. It was so hard. He was making all these weird noises, and when he dropped to the floor, until he was beneath her, he wrapped his arms around her back before burying his face into her, much like he'd forced her to do before.

Rick was mumbling, as though he were drunk now, mumbling inconsistent little nonsensical words into her front, and Morticia could do little but stand there frozen in fear as he held onto her. Most of his words were lost on her, and she wondered for a brief moment if he wasn't even speaking English anymore, but she could hear a few things make their way out. It was strange, what he was doing, but she couldn't question it. Didn't want to.

As he stood on his knees mumbling into her front, Morticia could feel a sickening feeling well up inside her. It was hard not to fight against him when he was doing this, but when he'd had her in this position for too long, she found her words coming to her, and wished she could have sprayed them out like poison. "S-so...do you do this to Summer a-and Mom too?"

And he moved so quick, it startled her. In his hold, she jumped, but she was thrown off when he pushed away from her, gripping the sides of her arms. "Wh-what the fuck, no!" Maybe he was getting tipsy from whatever substance he'd downed earlier, but he looked like he wasn't so sober anymore, his words barely slurring together, but still a noticeable change. "I-I've never done anything to th-those two."

So why her then? She wasn't even sure if she believed him. For all she knew, he could have been doing this same shit to Summer behind everyone's back. When nobody would have suspected a thing, because he was Rick, and Mom thought the world of him. Beth would never question him if Morticia went and told her the truth.

She felt that terrible feeling sink into her, and she let out a sigh. Of course. Of course nobody would question him if he said any different. He could lie to Beth all day long and she would always take his side.

"C-come on, don't look a-at me that way, Morti." His words were still slurring together, and she was sure of it. Whatever he'd drank from the flask was affecting him, just that one tiny drink he'd taken. It was probably alien liquor or something super strong to hit him fast.

Of course he would do this.

He gripped at her arms to support himself, until he was seated onto the floor, and tugged her along with him. Morticia sank down until she was seated on her knees, but looked away from him. There was no way she could look at him, not when he was staring at her that way.

"T-turn around."

Stiffly, she obeyed him without much protest this time, the fear that he might drug her still hanging over her. It was slow, but she moved around until her back was facing him, and he wasted no time in tugging her back, until she was almost in his lap.

She panicked again, with his arms wrapped around her chest, he had one of his hands touching her breast and he squeezed until she winced, feeling the heat collect into her face. It was rough, almost painful, but when she made the small sound of pain, he backed off.

"D-d-do you know how long I've w-wanted to do this, Morti?"

It sickened her, the sound of his voice. She wasn't fully comprehending his words, hearing them as though they were background noise at this point. With him behind her, there was at least some relief that she didn't have to look at him. Even though his legs were on either side of her, even though he was pulling her back into him until she could feel herself fit right between the middle of his crotch.

She started shaking again. He wasn't serious--he wasn't serious. She could handle it if he only touched her like this--no, that was a lie, she was panicking just from the feeling of his cold hands against her, but she didn't know how she was going to handle it if he put his dick into her. It scared her-it scared her. He wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that. Not when she was in his lap clearly shivering from the feeling alone of his hands on her.

There was no answer to his question from before, not that she was paying his voice much attention, but he had moved his head until she felt his mouth on the edge of her throat. "Y-you know, i-it was r-r-really hard not to p-pull you into one of those alien bathrooms a-a-and fuck you. I-I was th-thinking about it for so long."

It sickened her, his words. When she slowly became aware of just what he was saying. Morticia pulled against him again, when she felt him put his mouth against her, and the heat threw her off. It wasn't good, it was bad, this was bad, and he was bad.

But, when one of his hands left her chest and began to move down to the front of her pants, and he tugged against the fabric, Morticia found her voice again. She was panicking, trying to stop, but she was panicking. "W-wait wait, don't..." The tips of his fingers pulled past the fabric of her jeans, but he tugged only a moment before reaching down with both hands to unfasten her button and zipper.

She had to say something--had to do something to make him stop. With his mouth right up on the base of her neck, she could smell the alcohol from whatever it was he'd drank earlier, and it was making her even more sick. She would throw up, he was making her want to throw up.

The fear of struggling against him and him jamming a needle into her neck--she paused. She wanted to say something to make him stop. She didn't want him to drug her, but she had to say something.

And for a moment, she felt if she said this, she might be able to manipulate him. She might touch a nerve long enough for him to realize what he was doing was fucked up. "D-don't...Grandpa." She rarely called him that, usually always yelling out his name, and hoped maybe, just maybe, he would stop if he heard that word.

For a moment, he did stop. When the word came out shaky from her mouth, Rick stopped tugging at the edge of her pants, only to pull her into him again.

When he did, she could feel it. She felt it. She felt the bulge in his pants, and he let out a breathy moan against the back of her neck. "M-Morti, good god... Y-you--s-say it again..."

She had accidentally turned him on. Fuck, fuck, she was trying to pull away from him, especially when she felt him harden from behind her, from where she sat against him, and he was making even more horrifying sounds against her, pulling her close until she felt him grind against her.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, he was serious. She hadn't meant to turn him on. She was trying to make him stop--but--

He was serious.

Even though she pulled away from him, he pulled her back, until he had his hands on her pants again, and pulled her zipper down, unhooked the button, and started moving his cold fingers down the front of her crotch.

She could feel it, she could feel it. Fuck, fuck . He was even more erratic with his movements now, still mumbling into her, moving his mouth up and down her neck, to her shoulder, where he would suck random spots.

Fuck, he was serious. His long fingers touched her, and she backed up into him in surprise, almost head-butting him when she threw her head back. Whatever he was trying to accomplish, she didn't know. All she knew was that he was serious. She wanted to lie to herself, to deny it even as he blatantly touched her clit and stuck his fingers into her, she tried to deny it.

It was when he started rubbing against her, and she felt a feeling she never wanted to feel from him, start to surface. Even her small, barely heard words of, "Nonono" went ignored as he touched her.

Why would he do this to her?

As he fingered her, she bucked up against him, and had to grab something--anything, to keep herself steady. The only thing available was the fabric of his pants, and she gripped with both hands, squeezing, writhing in his hold, and backing up against him further and further.  

It didn't help that he was muttering things into her ear as she struggled. "God, Morti, l-look at you. Wh-why didn't I do this sooner? I sh-shouldn't have f-fucked you up like I did. I s-s-should have let you b-be awake." The more she writhed against him, the more friction she caused under her, until she felt his erection pressing fully into her.

Oh fuck, he was going to do it, wasn't he? Morticia almost choked out a sob at the realization. He was going to do it. He was going to fuck her for real. Somehow before, she could almost deal with it when she knew he had only done it to her when she was asleep. Because she didn't know. It was easier to deny it that way. That was fucked up, that was so fucked up, but it was true. She could have forgotten it eventually. Maybe, at some point, she could have ignored him like the rest of the family did. Could have called him an asshole and moved on with her life.

But.

He was doing this, doing it to her while she was sitting here, struggling in his hold, even after he'd moved multiple fingers inside her, stretching her on either side, scissoring, and moving them back and forth. She couldn't deal with this. Because he was serious now.

He had worked her pants off her, and down her thighs, until he pulled them off to discard them with the rest of her clothes beside them in a pile. All she had left on were her panties, which he was trying to work off of her.

It was when she heard him unzip his pants, and the feeling of his erection digging into her, so much more prominent now, that Morticia panicked. She panicked, she panicked, she shoved at him, trying to elbow him off her from behind.

Her entire insides were screaming at her to get away from him. If she could fight him off long enough to reach the ladder of the bunker, she could escape. But, she started thrashing in his old, panicking even more when he had wrapped both arms around her, trying to hold her back.

Morticia started crying, sobbing, and screamed out with every ounce of her being, "D-DON'T DO IT, DON'T DO IT !" Screaming at him, hoping he would stop, hoping he would let her go.

But he didn't.

In his drunken state, he was slipping on his grip with her, and she made it as difficult as possible, thrashing, pulling at him, doing anything she could to climb out of his hold and run away. Rearing her head back, she tried to smash the back of her head against his face, and felt front of him connect, and it threw him off. He let go.

He let go, and she clambered out of his hold, crawling away from him on her hands and knees, until she tried to scramble to her feet. Even in that moment, the single moment he had let go of her and she scrambled ahead of him, she felt his hand wrap around her ankles, and he pulled her back.

In one quick motion, he had flipped her onto her back, until she faced him, and she saw his nose bleeding. Whether she had broken his nose slamming the back of her head into him, she didn't know. Or care.

But, he looked pissed now.

"MORTI!" He screamed her name, as loud as he could, and she felt his voice vibrate through her, and knew he was serious. If she didn't fight him off now, he was going to fuck her. He was going to fuck her.

She kicked at him, hoping to catch his ribs underneath her foot and push him off, but he was already working his way on top of her. If he managed to get his full weight on her, she would never be able to get him off again.

He bent over her, and she pushed, trying to move backwards, trying to get him off, but he reached up with both hands and grabbed her wrists to hold her down.

" DON'T DO IT !" She was screaming at him, crying, sobbing, hiccuping as she made the most pathetic sounds she never thought she would hear herself make. She was sobbing, trying to make him understand, trying to make him see that this wasn't right. "R-RICK, DON'T DO IT!" Crying and sobbing, she had tears in her eyes and couldn't even see him anymore.

But, he was on top of her, pressing his weight on her, trapping her down onto the floor. Releasing one hand from her wrist, he gripped the underside of her thigh instead, pulling her up off the floor long enough to rip her underwear off.

Morticia sobbed, turning to the side to look away from him. That was it. She had lost. She couldn't even run away from him, couldn't fight him off, and this was all she had to show for it--being a crying pathetic mess. He ignored her begging, her sobbing, even as she had stopped struggling against him, knowing she couldn't win, knowing he had overpowered her, and she sobbed.

She had made him angry now, and nothing she said was going to appeal to his weakness. Not begging him, not crying in front of him, not writhing beneath him like the pathetic garbage she was--Morticia froze. When she felt him press against her, when she felt him press the tip of his dick into her.

She choked on her sobs, frozen.

There was no running away. There was no getting away from him.

He was going to do it.

Slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, he pushed into her, and she stiffened at the feeling. At the feeling of him inside her. It had taken her breath away, until she choked on it--struggling to remember to breath--knowing she was holding her breath in as the pain shot up inside her like nothing she'd ever felt.

Like he was ripping her insides. Like he was tearing her in half.

He said nothing when he did this, only reaching back up with both hands to hold her wrists down by her side. Morticia was still struggling to breathe, turning her face away to avoid looking at him. She couldn't look at him. He was inside her, he was doing this, he was inside her .

Slowly, another deliberate move on his part, he pulled back out, but gave her no chance to catch her breath when he went back inside. Morticia had stopped trying to beg him, stopped thinking that anything she said or did was going to make him stop. He obviously was not stopping.

And the way his voice choked out, when he went into her a second time--that breathy voice that scared her until she felt like her heart would pound straight from her chest. "M-Morti, g-god damn..."

She wished she could have blocked her ears off, to stop herself from hearing those awful sounds he was making. She could at least focus on the pain inside of her, of him ripping her insides, when he did this. Not his voice. Anything but his voice.

Slowly, he moved in and out of her a few times, until it didn't hurt so bad anymore. Not after he was starting to create a rhythm. He wouldn't stop making those awful noises. Moaning above her, grunting as he pushed back inside, getting a little more rough, Morticia thought she was going to be sick at those sounds. These sounds she was never supposed to hear him make. Not with him above her, holding her down, pushing into her, pulling out of her, and moaning.

Why was he doing this?

She found herself lying there, closing her eyes, and trying to block out the sound, the sight, everything from every one of her senses. It wasn't happening, but it was. It was happening, he was doing this to her, he wasn't stopping, he had taken her here to fuck her and nobody was going to stop him and she couldn't stop him.

At some point, she became aware that one of his hands had left her wrist, but she felt it against her thigh again. He squeezed the spot there, causing her to wince a little at the feeling, but not before he trailed his fingers down the inside of her leg, up to her crotch, and pressed against her clit.

Jumping at the feeling, she would have squirmed away from him, if not for the fact he still had one hand holding her other arm down. When she jumped, he only squeezed her wrist, putting pressure against her as if letting her know she wouldn't be getting up.

Her voice came out, so small, barely above a whisper and she knew he didn't hear her. "Stop..." Not that he would have stopped if he did. It was a useless thing to say, but she couldn't help it.

Nothing she said was going to make him stop.

Even when he rubbed against her, and she writhed underneath him, like a twitching insect, she wanted it to stop. The feeling he was creating, that feeling she would sometimes do to herself when she thought about Jessica--she never wanted it to be associated with him. Why couldn't he make it hurt and finish that way? It scared her, the fact it was starting to feel good, the fact he was starting to feel good.

The motion of him moving in and out of her, she wanted to be sick at it, she wanted to purge all of this feeling from her body when he rubbed against her, in time with his thrusting, and she moaned. It wasn't something she was able to stop. She moaned, moving into his fingers against her, and she hated how good that felt.

He sped up, releasing her other wrist in favor of gripping the underside of her thigh to prop her up a little more, before returning to his rhythm.

But when his voice suddenly came out at that moment, she wanted to be sick all over again. "Y-you like it, M-Morti? Say you like it. Tell me you like it."

Like it. She didn't like it. But, her body betrayed her thoughts, and she let out another uncontrollable moan when he moved into her a certain way, and it felt good, it felt so good. She couldn't help it. She wouldn't answer him, and he knew damn well she wasn't going to say that, so why even bother?

His questions when unanswered as he moved, until Morticia could feel that tightening feeling seep down into her. It was always when she thought of Jessica kissing her, thought of her finally admitting her feelings to her, and having them returned, that she would come. She wished she could have escaped just a moment longer and think about Jessica.

But, with Rick shoving himself into her, there was no way that was possible.

The feeling climbed higher and higher, and Morticia knew if he didn't stop, she was going to come around him. If he didn't stop--she was going to lose it. She was losing it. She was getting lost in that feeling, because why did he have to make it good? Why did he have to do this to her?

Why was he doing this?

Morticia couldn't hold back any longer and felt that feeling creep higher, when he rubbed against her, when he pushed back into her, and she let it engulf her. Spasming out, she came around him, her back arching when that feeling hit its peak, and he continued to rub against her, riding it out for as long as he could.

"F- fuck, Morti."

She knew he felt it, there was no way he couldn't. The feeling of coming wasn't uncommon for her, as she often masturbated to the thought of Jessica, but this was.

This was horrible.

The feeling never lasted that long, but she felt as if she were in a haze afterward, even when Rick made a strange strangled sound, a choked moan--and she felt him come inside her.

She couldn't look at him.

Didn't want to look at him.

He stopped touching her long enough to grip both of her thighs when he came, squeezing her so hard, she thought she was going to cry out from the pain, but he let go. He released her thighs, allowing her to relax herself a little, and then he pulled out of her.

Morticia retched a little at the sound it made. That sickening noise, that horrible feeling of him finally taking himself out of her, but she felt it. She felt his come seeping out of her, felt like she was going to lean over to vomit at it. How could he do this to her?

It was silent for a long time. After he pulled himself out of her, he sat leaning over her and breathed as though he were out of breath. Morticia lay underneath him, still, refusing to look at him, trying to focus on her own breathing. She tried so hard. Tried so hard not to break down and start crying again.

He finally leaned away from her, and grabbed the pile of her clothes that lay on the floor beside them. Daring to move, Morticia leaned up until she had brought herself up into manageable seating position. Rick threw her clothes at her, but didn't look at her.

"Y-you should go back to your room," was all he said before he stood up. He sounded a little more sober this time, not slurring as much as he was.

Morticia didn't want to respond, so she didn't. Uncrumpling her clothes from the heap they'd been in, she redressed herself slowly, wincing when she had to stand to her feet to put her jeans back on. It wouldn't matter soon. She planned to go to the bathroom and shower immediately once she left this place.

But, she almost wished he would say something to her. His odd silence once he'd stood up and faced away from her was uncomfortable to say the least. She wanted to ask him why, but couldn't bring herself to say anything to him. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn't talking to her now. She didn't know.

Gathering herself, she walked past him to the hallway, and out to the ladder. She expected him to stop her, to follow after her, but he didn't move from his spot. Morticia didn't want to look at him, and fixed her gaze down to the floor as she passed him. He didn't say or do anything, so she left.

She climbed the ladder and exited out into the garage. It felt so strange to be back out here, and she looked down into the hole of the bunker, expecting him to be there, but glad when he wasn't.

So, she closed the door, and headed back into the house. Beth and Jerry were still seated on the couch, apparently watching a movie, and didn't notice her when she crept past the room, to head to the stairs.

The tears had long dried against her face, and she knew she looked like a mess. She wanted to stay in the darkness of the house as much as possible, in case Summer or someone walked by. She wouldn't be able to explain her appearance to them. Unless she lied really well.

There was silence from down the hall when she remembered Summer had been playing music before. But, there was nothing anymore. Maybe she had gone to sleep. Morticia reached for the handle of her door, preparing to get a clean set of pajamas before she showered, and found the handle refused to turn.

She forgot she had locked the door earlier. And Rick obviously hadn't come in through her door. He must have used a portal to enter her room.

Morticia stopped when she realized she was locked out of her room, and stared at her door as if that would will it into unlocking for her.

But, it didn't, and she cried. Placing her face into her hands, she cried and cried. The feeling of everything finally coming out making her cry even more. She felt the sobs wrack her body until she was shaking, until she couldn't see anything through the tears in her eyes.

Morticia cried.

Chapter Text

Rick tipped his flask back, emptying the contents until his throat burned and he almost choked. The alcohol was potent, that much was for sure, and yet it still wasn't enough. The last drop tipped onto his tongue and he swallowed, pausing only to lift the flask away from his face and peer inside as if there were a hidden ounce of alcohol left he hadn't yet discovered.

Of course, there wasn't.

He'd drained all there was and still wasn't satisfied. When he moved from his chair, he was definitely not sober, that much was obvious, as he wobbled on his feet, swayed to the side, and had to grip the back of the chair to avoid falling over and bashing his face against the garage floor. Not that he'd feel anything, but waking up later with a broken nose wasn't something he felt like dealing with.

There was more liquor in his cabinet, and he bent down to retrieve some, after fumbling on the handle for a few moments (when did hand eye coordination get so hard?), but finally found a full bottle he hadn't even opened yet. Reaching for it, he barely wasted any time before downing as much as he could without choking and coughing. The burn in the back of his throat was familiar and he welcomed it.

From his position on the floor, Rick sat with his back up against the cabinet for a moment, gaining his bearings and realizing he wasn't going to be standing up for a while. It had been a long time since he'd gotten this fucked up, but now was as good a time as any, he supposed. Not like he had any important plans or anything.

The florescent lights from the ceiling were blinding as he sat in a daze on the floor and he regretted not turning everything off before he decided to start drinking at his desk. There were discarded papers thrown about where he'd been writing down random equations and shit to work on when he was bored, but right now, all he could seem to focus on was the spinning of the room around him.

It was way after midnight. Long after everyone had gone to bed. It wasn't unlike him to stay up late and work on something in the garage and as long as he wasn't using huge machinery and making tons of racket, Beth usually let him do what he wanted if he wanted to sleep in or stay up drinking. It didn't matter. It never mattered.

He had planned to work on a mindless experiment tonight, what with his equations and shit he'd bothered to write down, and even gotten his tools out, but found the longer he sat at his table trying to concentrate, the more he sipped his flask, the more buzzed he got.

Buzzed always led to hammered in his case. And now he was here, drunk as fuck on the floor of the garage, barely able to keep his head up as he swayed back and forth and could feel a splitting headache forming from the room spinning and the bright lights above him, and general feelings of shittiness overall.

Why did she have to look at him that way?

Ever since Morti left earlier that night, he couldn't stop thinking about what happened. They'd been in the bunker, and were safe (as far as he knew anyway). Nobody would bother them down there, and nobody would question him even if Morti came out crying and worse for wear, even if that's not what he had intended. He could lie all day long and Beth would believe him, so it didn't matter what he said, but he hadn't wanted things to get as rough as they had, and--

The way she fucking looked at him.

Another swig from the bottle, until his throat burned and his headache only worsened until it felt like someone was slamming a giant hammer against his head.

Why did she have to look at him like he was torturing her? Why did she have to push and push and push against him until he threatened to drug her? He hadn't wanted to, but in the moment, it just came out. Fuck, he could get so fucking irrational when he was angry. Especially around her. He couldn't think. Couldn't focus. He had tunnel vision for her and when she pushed against him, said and did anything that came to mind that he knew would make her stop.

His hand came to rest at his forehead, to block out the light that bore down on him from above. What the fuck was wrong with him? What the fuck was he doing? He couldn't stop thinking about how she fought against him, even bashing her head against his face (which almost broke his nose), just to get away from him. While he was doing what he knew would make her feel good. Morti was supposed to feel good, to writhe against him, moan out his name, and tell him to keep going. She was supposed to smile at him when he made her feel good, and call for him to do more. She was supposed to beg for it.

She was supposed to beg for him. Moan for him. Writhe on her back with her legs spread while he gladly gave her what she wanted and she took everything he gave. She was supposed to love every second of it.

The headache felt as though his whole skull was about to crack open.

Why didn't she love it? Why did she fight so hard against him to run away, until he had to hold her down--because he was only trying to prove she would like it--even though he hadn't wanted things to be this way. They weren't supposed to turn out like this.

That look on her face.

When he held her down, when he knew then in that moment how badly she was trying to get away from him, when he was on top of her and she was crying, begging for him to stop, and he didn't. That look on her face. That goddamn look. That look. That look. Her face. The face of his granddaughter twisted into horror--because of him. Her writhing and begging and crying--because of him.

Rick swallowed. And took another swig. It still wasn't enough to block everything out. He wanted to forget, even though he knew the alcohol wouldn't let him forget. The burn in the back of his throat was becoming numb, as was the rest of him. The spot on the floor where he'd crumbled down into because he'd spent the rest of the night drinking after what happened, and even that wasn't working out the way he wanted.

He considered pushing through the haze of his drunkenness to go get some drugs. Maybe if he got high, he could forget about what happened tonight, but then that wouldn't last long either. Whatever he could pump into his veins, huff, or inject straight into his goddamn retinas wouldn't do much good when he knew he was just going to wake up hungover in the morning and have to face her again.

The look she gave him was haunting him until it was all he could think of, even swaying back and forth on the ground, about to curl up into a fetal position and pass out, it was all he could think about. Why did she look at him like that? Why couldn't she just--just like it?

The cold floor of the garage finally smacked against the side of his face when Rick fell over against it, blacking out not mere seconds after his head hit the floor and he dropped the bottle of liquor, spilling it against his front. His final thoughts before he blacked out were still foggy, but focused on what happened earlier. He couldn't stop thinking about it.

Honestly though, why did Morti have to make this so difficult?


 

"Dad?"

Holy fucking shit did he feel bad. Not even opened his eyes yet and he felt like puking all over the place. The instant he lifted up off the ground, he knew it would come, he knew what was coming, that the wave of nausea would hit him like a punch in the gut and he'd be retching all over the place, because he'd drank way too much the night before. God, just knowing what he had to face was enough to make him want to stay put for several hours and never move again.

But-- "Dad? Are you okay?"

It hadn't registered with him before that Beth was calling out to him. When he heard her voice, coated with worry, he noted, he was forced to open his eyes, although the light that blinded him caused him to immediately squint and he shielded his face with a free hand.

"You didn't sleep in the garage last night, did you?" Now Beth had a hand on his shoulder and was trying to coax him into sitting up, something he definitely didn't feel like doing. In fact, not moving at all felt like the best decision he could make all day, if it weren't for Beth's insistent nonsense and touching him and stuff.

He had to answer her though. Not that she would question him if he decided to blow her off, but he managed to open his eyes long enough to stand the light and finally make eye contact with her. She'd bent down onto her knees beside him, hand on his shoulder, and looked prepared to offer him anything he needed. Really though, Beth always bent over backwards for him no matter what. Even if he was the one putting her out, he knew she would bend over until her spine cracked for him. It didn't matter what.

He managed a little nod, though felt the nausea start to rise as he did so. "Y-yeah, I guess I did." Though, his act at trying to play nonchalant was failing, he wasn't sure why he even bothered, but it came out that way as he sat up with his back against the liquor cabinet. The headache was gone for the most part, but it felt like some big ass dude just walked by and kicked him straight in the stomach.

Beth tilted her head at him as she moved in a little closer, her voice still tinted with concern. "Your nose is bleeding."

"What?"

"There's blood on your nose. I think it's dry though." As she spoke, Beth retrieved a tissue from her pocket and handed it to him.

When he dabbed at his nose, there was indeed crusty dry blood on it, and his thoughts immediately flew back to last night when Morti bashed her head into his face. He knew she almost broke his nose when that happened, but at the time, he was so focused on--he was so focused that he didn't really pay attention to it. Before he got drunk, he remembered cleaning it up, but it must've started bleeding again at some point.

Taking a moment to touch it, he noted it was sore as fuck. Goddamn, she really hit him hard. He was surprised it wasn't broken after that. Though, that was the least of his worries. When he turned to look up at Beth, she was still looking at him expectantly, and with worry, and he hated it. He wished she would just leave him alone to sleep the rest of his hangover off without any distractions. But, he also knew if he said so, she would probably leave him alone.

She opened her mouth to say something to him, but he cut her off. "It's fine, Beth, d-don't worry about it."

She only nodded, looking down and away from him, before simply replying, "...Okay," and stood to her feet.

The conversation was over just like that.

All Beth did was give him a final worried look before leaving him to himself. She always acted as though simply talking to him too much was going to push him over the edge and he would up and abandon her again. It was always like that with her--never too much emotion, but he was okay with that.

When he was left alone in the garage to realize just how fucked up he was, he took a moment to remember he had spilled liquor all over himself, and had been sleeping in soiled clothes the entire time. The bottle still lay at his side, tipped over and whatever amount it had spilled onto the floor had dried overnight, but his shirt and coat were stiff with the substance and stained brown. He groaned to himself as he made to stand up. What a fucking mess he'd made. Not like he wasn't used to it, but it was such a goddamn hassle to clean up. If and when he decided to clean up.

But, the nausea that hit him once he was on his feet was so prominent in that moment, he almost retched where he stood, and took all his willpower to swallow it down. Like fuck he was going to get sick over this. He'd be damned if he threw up from a little liquor (more like two bottles, but still.) It wasn't like he'd never gotten this fucked up before. Hell, his body should've been running purely on alcohol as fuel by this point in time, but sometimes it never failed, he would wind up getting sick from it. Maybe his tolerance wasn't as high as he thought, but he knew it was just because he'd spent the night on the floor, passed out in his own filth.

Not the best way to start off a Saturday. But, it wouldn't be the first. Or the last.

First thing was first, once he was sure he wasn't going to hurl everywhere, Rick made his way back into the house to shower and hopefully sober up a little more. The least he could do was change out of his clothes. He didn't particularly feel like moving at all today, but he certainly didn't feel like sitting around in his filth any longer than he had to either.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but he was almost positive it was after noon. It had to be. It was late by the time he even started drinking last night, and even later by the time he finally passed out. If it hadn't gotten so late in the day, he doubted Beth would have even come bothering him in the garage like she had.

The stairs were the hard part. Once he'd stumbled his way over to them, he grabbed the railing and slowly climbed his way up, still a little shaky on his feet. The headache was gone at least, and it no longer felt like someone was bashing his skull in two, but the wooziness he felt wasn't going away soon, and it was better to grip the stairs and do a slow-climb upward than to trip and fall over backwards and risk actually breaking something.

At least he hadn't run into anybody so far, other than Beth, if she could be considered 'running into' before. Not even waking up with a dried bloody nose and booze all over his shirt was going to evoke questions from her. Fuck, she really did let him get away with anything, he realized. No matter what he said, what lies he spewed, what excuses he made, he knew Beth feared him abandoning her and as fucked up as it was, used it to his advantage whenever he could. He knew he could get away with some stupid fucked up shit, he knew that. As long as Beth bent over backwards for him, he wasn't about to say any different, or bother feeling guilty that he was taking full advantage of his daughter like that.

It wasn't like it mattered.

When he went to pull on the door handle to open the bathroom door, prepared to shower all the filth off him and sober up, he wasn't expecting it when the door swung open and steam hit him in the face. It was warm and honestly a welcome feeling, with the heavy scent of flowers shooting straight up his nose. The heat seemed to wake him up instantly, but that wasn't the only thing that woke him up.

Morti stood with her hand frozen against the door handle, making to move out of the bathroom, but stopped herself short when she saw him, obviously not expecting to see him right outside the door. Her hair was wet and stuck against her damp skin, and he could see water droplets clinging to her shoulders and arms where she hadn't yet dried herself off completely. The only thing she had wrapped around her body was a towel, and he took immediate notice of that, and how her opposite hand reached up to cling to the folded part that rested against her cleavage.

God, did he notice.

Morti wasted no time in avoiding eye contact with him the moment she saw him, and he watched as her entire demeanor changed. Her head fell low, her shoulders tensed, and she said nothing when she moved past him, moving a little too fast too much that he noticed, as if afraid he was going to stop her if she didn't move out of the way quick enough.

That overwhelming scent of whatever shampoo she'd used was thick in the air, until Rick felt like he was choking on it. God, she smelled good. She smelled so good, he wanted to stand there longer and take it all in. He wanted to watch her move, watch the way her hips swayed when she brushed past him to tuck herself away into her room, closing the door and locking it. He wanted her to stop for a moment so he could smell her, and he wanted that scent to be burned into his skull, because god, was she beautiful. Even as she shrank into herself to appear as small as possible, he didn't care that she didn't look at him. He didn't care if she looked uncomfortable or seized up the moment she saw him. He didn't care that she looked at him the exact same way as she looked at him the night before.

He couldn't help thinking how much he wished he could have reached out to grab her arm to stop her before she locked herself away in her room. The scent of her, the sight of her still dripping wet from the shower, as the steam rose away from the bathroom, as she reached up to grip the towel so it didn't accidentally fall down and expose her body to him--even though he'd already seen her naked so many times--he should have done it.

Rick caught himself staring at her door for a few moments without moving. It shouldn't have been happening this way. He should have grabbed her. He should have taken her back to the bunker--because god, did he really want to fuck her right now. He felt intoxicated by everything that just happened--the smell of her, the sight of her almost naked, the way her wet hair clung against her and fell over her shoulders--how goddamn bad he wanted to pull at her hair and bite her neck and kiss her and inhale the scent on her--how fucking bad he wanted to see her on the ground again below him while he fucked her senseless, while he heard her moan out his name, and it would feel so, so good.

How fucking wonderful it would feel if she would just like it.

He looked back at the empty bathroom, as the steam had finally lifted away from the air, and the floral scent from before was waning.

It would have been wonderful, he thought. It would've been so good if he had taken her back there--but he could indulge in his fantasies later. Goddammit--why did she make him so irrational like this? Why did she do this to him?

He made his way into the bathroom and closed the door, stripping off his soiled clothes and discarding them to the floor before stepping into the shower. He saw the shampoo Morti had bathed with setting on the shelf, some Dove brand or something other, and it was the same thing she'd always showered with, but he couldn't help but wonder why he suddenly started noticing all the stupid nonsensical details about her right now. Why did he care what she bathed with? Why did he care how she looked at him when he was imagining all these impossible scenarios in his head how she was supposed to react to the way he fucked her?

Why did he even care?

It didn't make any sense.

It felt like being high, honestly. He'd taken some bad shit, gotten high on something, and now he was addicted. He never remembered giving two shits about Morti before--no, that was a lie. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just... It was hard to put into words, or even think about. What did he think?

She was his granddaughter. A teenager with high school girl problems and high school girl crushes and high school girl thoughts. She was whiny, ignorant, and he would often roll his eyes so hard at the way she talked about things as though she actually understood how life worked. She was fourteen--she had no idea. The biggest problem in her life right now was whether or not she passed a stupid algebra test.

And yet, he always hated the way she doted on her crush. He hated the way she talked as though she knew for a fact she was in love with someone, as if she knew. She didn't know. She was fourteen, she really didn't know anything. The way her eyes glossed over when she talked about how much she liked Jessica--he fucking felt like someone was punching him all over again every goddamn time he thought about it.

Why in the fuck was he the one acting like a teenager? Why did he care, why did he give a single, flying, fucking shit fuck who Morti crushed on in high school when it wouldn't even matter in the long run? Sure, if she managed to get Jessica to go out on a date with her, that was one thing. If Jessica reciprocated her feelings, that was something too. If Morti managed to woo the person of her feelings and in return, receive those feelings, he had no doubt that would make her happy, and she'd get the high school romance of her dreams, and they'd probably manage to make it work for--oh, what--four months?

When he thought about it, he tried to make excuses that Morti would never get Jessica to like her, because he somehow knew, even though he'd never met her crush before. Never laid eyes on her, but he knew. He knew she was going to break Morti's heart and leave her devastated and that feeling of abandonment would come full circle.

Why did he care? He kept telling himself he didn't. He didn't give a single fuck who Morti liked, or didn't like.

That horrified look she'd given him the night before crossed his mind again, and he felt a pang shoot through his stomach. If only she'd liked it. Why couldn't she just like it? He knew she could like it--if she would just stop fighting him. He didn't want things to end up like this. He didn't want Morti to walk out of the bunker, shaking and crying like she had, refusing to look at him, and still refusing to look at him. Why couldn't she sit back and enjoy it? Just like all the other Mortys did. They liked it--why couldn't she?

He couldn't help but think back to the time when he'd gone to the bar and first found out about how other Ricks fucked their Mortys. He remembered being horrified at the time, but also relieved, because he wasn't the only one who wanted to do it.

But, the idea that other Ricks were fucking their Mortys in other universes--and seeing the way that one Morty looked at him, with lidded eyes, a drunken expression, but a small smile as he clung to his own Rick and told him to do it--Rick was jealous. Why did it have to be this way?

He didn't know when he started getting obsessed with his Morti. It wasn't like it mattered. It wasn't like he could help it either. Whenever he saw her, he lost himself in her completely. He wished he could keep her in the bunker indefinitely--but of course, Beth would get suspicious if her daughter went missing. Jerry would have a few choice words as well, but it wasn't like Rick gave a single shit what he had to say. Hell, he was convinced if he did keep Morti down in the bunker, if it was up to Jerry, he wouldn't even notice if his daughter was gone.

That wasn't the point, though.

It was still a thought. The idea of keeping Morti in the bunker, all to himself, to prove to her that he could be all she needed, that she didn't need high school, or stupid crushes, or to pass tests, it weighed on his mind.

As he turned the shower off and stepped out to dry himself, he wondered for a moment if he would ever get to see Morti smile at him the way that Morty at the bar had smiled at him. How he fantasized of seeing that look on her face--how he imagined up scenarios of them fucking in the bunker constantly, while she moaned for him and wrapped her arms around his neck and scratched his back because he knew what she liked. How he wanted her to sit in his lap while he clung to her from behind and dove himself into her hair to inhale that floral scent. How he wanted to take her all in. How he wanted her all to himself--and god, how lucky he was to have a Morti like her.

Maybe one day.

 

 

Chapter Text

Morticia stared at her bedroom door from her position atop her bed. She sat with her knees bunched up and her chin rested on top, with her arms wrapped around her legs as she stared at the door, waiting. Not that anything would happen. Nothing, she hoped anyway, would happen.

She slowly fixed her gaze to the floor instead and noted how messy her room was. She really should clean up, but nowadays, she just wasn't finding the time to do that. It was either run on an adventure with Rick, freak out about a test she forgot to study for, or curl into a ball on her bed and wait out random bouts of anxiety--much like she was now.

It wouldn't matter if the door were locked. She didn't know why she even bothered locking it anymore. Rick would just come in through a portal if he really wanted. He'd done it before.

Morticia closed her eyes and thought back to what happened last night after she'd gone crying to her dad. Her face had been an absolute mess. It didn't matter that her clothes were disheveled, or that her eyes were red from crying, or that her hair was a tangled mess from being pushed to the ground by Rick before he fucked her. It didn't matter that she had tried so hard to not cry in front of Rick, only to lose it all completely when she realized she'd been locked out of her room--the one place she thought she would be safe from him--and how stupid she'd been to think that. How stupid she was to think anywhere was safe from him--especially her own room.

The inevitable hit her like a ton of bricks. And it wasn't something she could help. The lock was the straw that broke the camel's back, and Morticia could remember wailing in the hallway, about to scream. Crying, sobbing, heaving in the spot in the dark, because of what happened.

She wasn't crying because of the goddamn stupid lock. It was literally everything else. Being locked out, not being able to get her pajamas, not being able to take a bath like she wanted. ...Rick.

By the time she made it to Jerry, she was already sobbing and looked terrible. When he asked her what in the world was she freaking out over, all Morticia could say was she'd been locked out of her room.

"How'd you manage to do that?" was all Dad said before he had to move from his spot on the couch where he'd fallen asleep with Mom, and made his way upstairs to try and pick open the lock.

Morticia couldn't tell him why, even though she had the answer. Thankfully, Dad didn't pry much for an answer (and maybe he really didn't even care), when she was still crying and wiping at her face and hiccuping. He retrieved his toolbox before unscrewing the tiny screws from the knob and pulling the whole thing out and allowing the door to pull open.

Morticia couldn’t tell him why it happened. She couldn’t explain to him why. Maybe she didn’t even care to tell him, because Dad never seemed to give two shits on the norm, but why would he now?

She wanted so bad to say though. Wanted so bad to tell him it was Rick. Rick had opened a portal into her room before taking her to the bunker, and she forgot about the locked door.

He was right there, right in front of her, as he fit the knob back in place and screwed it back into the hole in the door, and for a moment, Morticia wanted to reach out her hand and ask him for help. She wanted to call for him, please, please, Dad, help me, help me, but .

He opened her door for her, gave her a small, if not slightly annoyed smile, and ushered her inside. “Try not to let it happen again, okay, honey?”

Morticia nodded, and found herself inside her room once again. The bedsheets from where she’d taken a nap earlier that day were disheveled and she almost recoiled at the sight of it, because all she could think about was waking up to the sight of Rick climbing on top of her, feeling the weight of him press down as he moved onto her, and she shook her head, trying not to let the thoughts invade her mind. It was impossible not to think about though.

“Hey.” Dad’s voice cut her off from her thoughts and she turned back to him still standing in her doorway as he looked around her room with yet another disapproving look on his face. “Tomorrow is Saturday, how about you clean your room for once, okay?”

She nodded. That might not be such a bad idea, after all. Maybe it would take her mind off some things, but she doubted it. Even standing in the mess of her room, on a pile of her clothes, feeling embarrassed as her dad scrutinized her bedroom like this, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this all better. What good would a clean bedroom do her?

When Jerry left and closed her door, she stood in the same spot for a while, not really knowing what to do. There was absolutely no point in locking the door, since Rick could just come in whenever he pleased anyway. She shuddered a little at the thought, that he would do that, that her room wasn’t a safe place anymore, and it was never one to begin with.

No place was ‘safe’ .

Morticia sat on her bed that next day, having not really gotten any sleep the night before, since she’d napped all day long. Her sleep schedule was getting all kinds of fucked up now, but there was little she could do about it.

She’d probably showered three times since it happened, since he did what he did. But, no matter how many times she washed herself off, she couldn’t feel clean anymore. She wasn’t usually an obsessive over showering anyway, even though she showered everyday, but now she really did feel as though something was off. It felt like she smelled bad, or had to brush her teeth an extra amount, or wash her face four more times, or scrub between her legs until it was sore, but it was never enough . She almost burned herself earlier that morning when she showered with the water so hot, her skin turned red, and burned until it stung and she had to stop for a moment and realize what she was doing.

Trying to burn it off. She wanted it to burn off. Maybe the pain would be better if she turned up the water so hot that it burned it off. It wouldn’t take the bruises away, because fuck it all if there weren’t bruises there the next morning. She couldn’t stand the sight of the purple and blue between her legs when she stepped into the shower and it was all she could focus on. The splotched pattern that he’d left in between her thighs where he’d pressed so hard, and she could see exactly where his fingers had been—it made her want to vomit right there, but she just turned the shower head against herself to spray the hot water until it was red. At least then she could control that. She could say that was something she’d done.

But it was wrong. Morticia didn’t want to hurt herself just to prove a point. After leaving the shower for the third time, she only ended up feeling guilty after the shower left her burning and only feeling more pain. Hadn’t she already been through enough? But, if only it were that simple. She wished she could sleep and forget any of this ever happened—she wished Rick would hook her up to one of his machines and wipe her memory clean, because she knew he could do it.

She almost wanted to ask him. It would be better to forget, honestly.

It wouldn’t matter if she had told Dad last night what happened. Even though she came to him sobbing and a mess and wailing—he thought it was because she managed to lock herself out of the room. If only he’d known it was because her grandpa had held her down and fucked her into the floor. If only Dad knew what had happened to her.

But, he didn’t. And he didn’t notice either. Her sobbing was just hysterics, Morticia only got hysterical because of the lock and that was it. Dad never questioned why it was something with a simple fix that made her so upset. He just assumed she was that upset about it and went about his night. So maybe he didn’t care. Maybe if she had opened her mouth and told him what Rick had done, he wouldn’t care about that either.

Morticia sighed. No matter how many times she played over scenarios in her head of her telling her parents what had happened, it always ended with Mom siding with Rick or Dad not caring. But even if they did believe her, what would happen then? She tried to imagine a scene happening where she told Mom and she believed her, told Rick to never step foot in her doorway ever again, but when Morticia tried to think of a scene such as that, it always ended with Rick winning.

He could erase memories, stop time if he wanted, and no matter what bullshit he always got himself in, he could manipulate and lie his way back out—especially if it concerned Beth, because she thought he was the sun and moon and would never think anything bad of him. No matter how Morticia wished a scenario would go her way, when she thought about it realistically, it wasn’t going to happen.

What would probably happen is Beth would accuse her of seducing Rick. And Morticia wasn’t sure if she could ever handle that if her mom blamed her for this. If they ever did find out and accused her of being the one to initiate this kind of affair, she didn’t know how she was going to deal with it. Any kind of confrontation in her head always ended with Beth either not believing her, or if Rick got his way, having it turned back around on her and Morticia receiving all the blame for it.

The thought made tears well up, even though she’d spent half the night crying, and didn’t think she’d had the energy to cry anymore. She couldn’t stop thinking, why was he doing this to her? Why was he going out of his way to do this to her? She couldn’t remember a time before when he ever looked at her like that, when he dropped hints of looking at her sexually, or ever being interested in her in such a way.

But, she realized, maybe he had, and she just never realized. Because, it took the point of her being drugged and waking up to him hovering over her drunk out of his mind to find him out, and even then, he took her away to the bunker and fucked her until she begged him not to. No matter how much she screamed for him not to do it, he didn’t care about what he was doing to her, or how much she was screaming and fighting him.

Maybe he had always been this way. Maybe when they were on adventures together, he was always looking at her that way, but she never noticed, because he was her grandfather. So why would she suspect something like that of him? Why, when he would yell at her sometimes, call her stupid if she fucked up, treat her like an imbecile, raise his voice if she didn’t understand his science jargon, dismiss her when she came to him with a problem she couldn’t figure out, or even outright tell her to go fuck herself if she dared bother him when he was in the garage in the middle of twiddling with some dumbass invention on his bench?

That was the kind of person she was used to. So why would she ever suspect him capable of something like that when he always acted like he hated her? Maybe not even hated, but definitely talked down to, made her feel like dirt most times, made her feel stupid when she would sometimes talk about her crush, and he’d laugh at her, tell her she had no idea what she was talking about.

He was an asshole—not a sexual predator.

And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about what he said to her. When he got down on his knees and pulled himself into her, when he buried his face into her and moaned her name, when he told her how beautiful she was—and it made her throat tighten and she felt sick all over again, because what the fuck? What the fuck happened to him?

What if he’d been harboring these sexual fantasies of her for so long that he burst, and finally took it out on her? What if they’d been on those adventures, the ones where he yelled at her, but he was secretly thinking of her that way? What if he’d always thought of her that way, but led her astray by talking down to her so she wouldn’t suspect him?

Because hell, if that didn’t work. Even when he’d been drugging her, she thought it was because of her sleep schedule. She never thought it could be him, that he could be the one spiking her drink, forgetting to put her panties back on, and fucking her secretly in the middle of the night.

She saw the way he looked at her when she came out of the bathroom for the third time that day. Even though she’d showered twice since last night, she still felt fucking dirty, and had to go back for one more. She scrubbed and scrubbed, getting the water as hot as she could stand it without it burning her anymore, and was prepared to lock herself away in her bedroom the whole day—until she opened the door and he was standing there.

She didn’t know how long he’d been standing outside the door, if he even knew she was the one in the shower, if he’d followed her there, if he somehow watched her take the shower itself—because now she was paranoid as fuck. Anything she did, she assumed he was going to be watching her, and she saw the look on his face the moment she swung the door open.

He’d looked surprised for a moment, so maybe he hadn’t known it was her in there, but that didn’t stop her from being suspicious of him, because how could she be anything but suspicious of him anymore? She didn’t even know if she trusted him before, but now.

The way he looked at her, at the way she knew his eyes had gazed down at her half naked body, and she felt so vulnerable. So, so vulnerable. It was her fault for not bringing clothes, but how the fuck was she supposed to know he would be waiting for her outside the door like this?

But, those thoughts were easily overshadowed by another thought. What if he took her back? What if he pulled out his portal gun and took them back to the bunker—right now? The thought of being alone with him after what happened sent an unpleasant chill up Morticia’s spine, until she felt sick again. The thought of him pulling her into a portal again to fuck her, right after she’d spent so long trying to feel like she was clean again.

She didn’t dare dawdle. The moment his eyes started trailing down her body like he was preparing to devour her was enough to set her on edge, but she brushed past him and into her room, locking the door behind her.

It didn’t matter if it was locked. If he really wanted to, he could just come in through a portal and drag her back to the bunker—if he really wanted to. There was no place in this house she could go that would save her from him, but locking the door at this point was a reflex. A useless reflex.

She stared at her door for a long time, as if waiting for him to come barreling in, angry and yelling, but nothing happened. She could only assume he’d left, or gone about his business. It felt like hours she stood there, waiting, waiting for a noise, for the sound of his footsteps, for the inevitable noise of the portal opening in her room where he would jump through and drag her off somewhere.

But, none of these things ever happened.

Morticia sat back on her bed and looked around at her room. It was Saturday, almost four in the afternoon, and she hadn’t cleaned yet. The bedsheets were still wrinkled and disheveled, her clothes were still piled up in a corner of her room, and several soda cans were starting to accumulate at her desk. Dad had scolded her for it last night, saying she needed to clean, but she didn’t see the point. It wouldn’t take her mind off of what happened, and it would just get dirty again the moment she cleaned anything, so what was the point?

The longer she sat in her towel, the more the chill in the air started to make her cold, so she thought the only thing to do now was to dress once again and try her best to stay away from Rick for the rest of the day. Hopefully for the rest of the weekend, until school started Monday.

But then, her phone buzzed.

Turning over, Morticia glanced at the screen of her phone which was sitting next to her pillow and spotted the name from where she was sitting. Immediately, her heart started racing when she saw it was a text from Jessica. Reaching for the phone, she almost dropped it as she opened the text and saw the most beautiful words she’d seen all week meet her on the screen.

‘Wanna meet at my house tonight? :)’

Oh and she even ended it with a cute smiley face! Morticia felt her chest swell with a feeling she felt she hadn’t experienced in awhile, even though she’d just met Jessica at the lockers yesterday and gushed over her. It was only a day, but to her, felt like months had passed by in the span of time with everything going on.

Of course she wanted to meet her at her house, of course she did. She’d do anything to get the fuck out of this house for a couple hours. The only problem was, how did she bring it up to her parents? They (or rather Mom) didn’t mind so much when she went to visit her the first time and she had no doubts she’d care if she went to visit her tonight since it was Saturday.

But.

Before was when Morticia didn’t know any better. Before was when Rick was just an asshole who’d drag her off to random adventures and berate her when things didn’t go as smoothly as possible. Before was when Morticia wasn’t taking three showers a day because she couldn’t seem to feel clean since last night.

She hated how goddamn paranoid she was now. If she told Mom, Mom would tell Rick, and Rick would make excuses. Much like he did before, when he made a big deal about it and tried to stop her by saying they had to go on a very important bullshit mission right then and there—she doubted if she tried to nonchalantly bring up the fact she wanted to go to her crush’s house tonight that Rick would let her go without a fight.

Mom would tell him. She told him everything, even if it wasn’t his fucking goddamn business. Even if he didn’t care. Even if he gave not a single, less than an iota of a shit, she told him.

If Morticia went to her, she would tell him, and he would try to stop her. And Morticia didn’t feel like fighting him tonight, didn’t feel like hearing his excuses about why she couldn’t go, didn’t feel like being dragged off on another ‘adventure’ with him, because who was to say he wouldn’t hurt her while he had her alone with him out there? He’d already drugged her for weeks and fucked her into the floor in the bunker. Morticia had no doubts he would stoop so low as to lie and say they were going to go gather materials from an alien planet just for him to drag her off somewhere and fuck her there instead.

She couldn’t trust him. Didn’t want to trust him anymore. She had no reason to put her faith in him after what he did and the thought of talking to him, being alone in the same room with him, was enough to make her sick. She’d been hiding in her room all day, even though it wasn’t a safe place anymore, because nowhere was. She wasn’t safe anywhere in this house. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere.

But, she thought if she could go to Jessica’s house—maybe without him knowing—maybe, just maybe, she could have a couple hours of relief. She wouldn’t be at home twiddling her thumbs, too nervous to go outside in fear that he would be lurking around the house, too afraid he would drag her back down to the bunker and hurt her, too afraid that at any moment he was going to tell her she had to go with him on an adventure, just for him to take her to another dimension to fuck with her.

No.

Her hands shook as she stared at the text from Jessica. As her heart fluttered at the idea of being with her crush, as she fantasized about kissing her, holding her hand, even though Rick had fucked her, she’d been fucked by her grandpa, and maybe Jessica wouldn’t want her if she knew that, because Morticia was disgusting. Maybe she would shun her if she knew, and maybe the whole family would shun her if they knew, if they blamed her for it, if they told her it was her fault.

It wasn’t any of his goddamn business.

If she wanted to spend Saturday evening with Jessica, then who the fuck was he to tell her she couldn’t? He wasn’t her dad. Jerry didn’t exactly approve of her crush on Jessica either, but fuck him too. Fuck both of them. Fuck them all. Fuck Rick . Just because he was her grandpa didn’t mean he could tell her what to do.

She didn’t need to tell them anything. It was nobody’s goddamn business.

With her hand still shaking, she looked back to the text and could feel a sense of relief overtake her when she replied. It wouldn’t be too hard to sneak out of the house. If anything, nobody really noticed when she came or went, but Mom only asked her that she let her know when she did leave, but it was okay if she didn’t know for one night.

Just one night.

She texted back, ‘I’d love to! What time?’

It was nobody’s goddamn business but her own what she did tonight.


 

It was after six by the time Morticia was getting dressed. Or rather, had dressed in her jeans and t-shirt, but was figuring out what to do with her hair. She was back in that rut again of not knowing whether to dress up to go see Jessica or not dress up to go see Jessica. And this time, she couldn’t ask Summer for advice. Last time, she wore very light makeup, but she wasn’t so sure if she should bother. It wasn’t like she ever wore makeup to school, or even bothered to dress up.

So, she settled on not dressing up. She pulled her hair up in a headband, looked herself over in the mirror, and decided that was okay enough.

It was almost seven when there was a small knock on her door, and she froze for a split second, but reminded herself if it were Rick, he wouldn’t have knocked. Her dad opened the door, and she was confused to see that he was all dressed up in a collared shirt, slacks, and uh, other dad assorted things. Either way, this was dressed up for Jerry.

He gave her a small smile. “Hey, kiddo, your mom and I are going out to eat tonight, but we’ll be back after a while. Summer left earlier today to go to a friend’s house, but your grandpa is here if you need anythi—” He suddenly stopped short when he saw that Morticia’s room was still in a state of disaster. “Didn’t we, uh, talk about this last night? Thought I told you to clean your room.”

Morticia wanted to roll her eyes, because of course Dad would notice that . Of course he would notice that, but not the fact she was getting dressed, doing her hair, and looked to be on her way out. God forbid he noticed. But, she could be thankful he didn’t. Not like she was going to tell him a goddamn thing.

“Sorry, I-I guess it slipped my mind.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I want this room spotless by the time we get back tonight, young lady.” Jerry’s attempt at a stern father voice always made Morticia giggle on the inside. Ever since she was little, her father was never good at making demands from her or her sister. It was usually Mom who got on their case when they were in trouble, or handed out the punishments if they did something wrong. Jerry was usually on the side, agreeing with Beth or trying so hard to pretend like he was also angry at them, but they always knew he was just bad at it.

Much like he was now.

Morticia knew if she didn’t clean her room, it wouldn’t be Jerry who yelled at her, but Mom would probably say something to her. Probably not punish her, but definitely get on her case about not listening to her dad.

Not like she gave a shit right now. She was too hyper-focused on sneaking out of the house, and with Mom and Dad going out to eat, it would only be that much easier to leave, especially without Rick noticing. Even if she hadn’t planned to sneak out before, no way in fucking hell was she going to subject herself to staying in the house alone with him if her parents were going to leave. Who knew what kind of fucked up things he’d do to her if he knew nobody was around to stop him?

The thought made her sick, but she could push it out of her mind for now. Right now, she could focus on Jessica. They’d made plans to meet up at her house around eight, and with her parents just now leaving, it would give her enough time to plan her escape and run to Jessica’s house. She didn’t live too far down the street, only a couple of blocks away, but it was enough distance that Morticia could feel some relief of not being at the house for awhile.

Dad finally left and she went back to work brushing her hair. It was always too curly and sometimes Morticia wished she could have long straight hair. Each time she brushed out a tangle, her hair would bunch back up, and she looked at her face in the mirror for a moment.

Maybe she should have put on some makeup, but there wasn’t enough time for that now. She had bags under her eyes from crying most of the night and not getting enough sleep. She looked horrible. But, maybe Jessica wouldn’t notice. At least for awhile, Morticia would be able to pretend things were okay tonight.

When her hair was as presentable as she could stand it, she stood from the mirror and looked out the window where she could make out the figures of her parents, all dolled up and ready for a night out, making their way to the car. She watched as her dad opened the passenger seat for her mom before seating himself in the driver’s seat.

It wouldn’t be long before she was going to be alone in the house with Rick, but she had to get out before he got too comfortable with that idea.

When the car backed out of the driveway and they drove off into the street, Morticia wasted no time in leaving her room. It would be pretty movie-esque of her to tie a bunch of bedsheets together and escape down her window, but there were a couple problems with that. The bedsheets probably wouldn’t support her weight, rip, she’d fall, break her leg, and the whole night would be ruined, and her window didn’t even open in a way that she could shimmy herself out of it.

So, walking out the door was going to have to be her next option.

There was something kind of ‘fuck you’ about that too. Like she was giving a giant middle finger to the whole house by leaving via the front door rather than sneaking out the window or climbing out by some convoluted means. It felt more like she didn’t give a single shit if she left through the front door. As long as she didn’t get caught, then who cared? She certainly didn’t.

Rick was nowhere in sight as she tiptoed down the hallway to the stairs. The house was strangely silent without the pounding music coming from Summer’s room, or the tv blasting from downstairs. Mom and Dad went out on occasion to restaurants, but Morticia couldn’t help but notice the odd silence in the air now that they were gone. She hadn’t realized how complacent she’d gotten with all the noises the house had to offer her before, and how familiar it had become. With everything going on lately, it was almost eerie to be in the house like this without chaotic noises happening, or Mom and Dad arguing, or Summer yelling at her that it was her turn to use the bathroom. Because at least then it was something normal.

The house wasn’t safe anymore. It was never safe to begin with. Finding out the place she thought she would always feel comfortable in suddenly feel like some stranger’s house was odd. The walls were watching her, the floorboards were creaking too loudly, there was somebody always watching her.

She never thought she would feel this paranoid in her own house but—here she was. Sneaking out and feeling guilty, tiptoeing down the stairs and trying so hard not to make a sound, because the slightest noise would alert Rick, and he would come after her.

She hadn’t seen him and didn’t know where he was. Maybe he was in the garage, or maybe he was in his own room, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t plan on passing either one of them. God forbid he catch her sneaking out, but she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to tell him if he did catch her. He certainly wasn’t going to let her go see Jessica, and he’d probably make some excuse about why she couldn’t go. It was going to be a hassle to deal with if she got caught, but she wasn’t sure what to do if she did.

The plan was not to get caught, hang out with Jessica, sneak back in before Mom and Dad got home, and nobody would be the wiser. She could pull that off, right?

Downstairs was even more creepy than she ever thought it could be. There was always the ever-present noise of the tv, but now it was gone. Someone was always talking to someone else in a room over, but now that was gone too. She never really noticed all this silence when she was home alone before, as Rick would usually drag her off on an adventure if Beth and Jerry decided to go out to eat, so she really didn’t have a chance to enjoy the moment of silence in the house.

It was unsettling.

But, there were no signs of him. She’d made it to the front door, having walked too slow and making no noise the whole trek, but she hadn’t run into him. The idea she might actually pull this off sent a rush through her, and she felt her cheeks flush when she slowly pulled open on door handle. The sun was just setting by the time she made it outside, and she got to see that beautiful twilight sky. The oranges and pinks were blurring together, and she could have something pretty to look at on her way to Jessica’s.

She’d made it outside. Wherever Rick had gone, she didn’t know or care, but she couldn’t stop now. Without wasting another second, she quietly closed the door behind her and practically flew down the sidewalk to get to the next block and out of sight from her house. He wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t see her. He would have no idea where she was, and wouldn’t be able to use that stupid portal gun to appear at Jessica’s and grab her if he didn’t know she was there.

This could feel ‘safe’ if she let it feel safe. If she ran far enough, if she ran so far that the house was out of sight and she didn’t have to worry about that goddamn asshole ever again, then she could feel safe.

The twilight sky had settled into a darkening orange by the time she made it down the block. Morticia hadn’t realized she’d been running the whole way, until her chest started heaving, and she had to lean against the streetlight and take a breath. When did she start getting so desperate to run? It hadn’t felt like she’d run, but from the gulps of air she was sucking in, she knew it. She’d run so far the house was no longer in view. If he hadn’t bothered to chase her or caught up to her at this point, then maybe she really was safe. He wouldn’t run after her, though. If he’d seen her leave, he would have opened a portal in front of her and used that to stop her.

She stood up straight, having caught her breath. Maybe this was okay. She couldn’t afford for it not to be okay, though. But, she knew once she got to Jessica’s house then everything would be okay. She could forget about Rick for the couple hours she was out here, out doing normal things, because it was normal to go to your crush’s house and spend the evening there on a Saturday night. It was normal to run away from home to feel like things weren’t going wrong all the time.

It was normal to want to escape when your grandpa had fucked you.

Morticia didn’t look back when she kept going. Jessica’s house wasn’t that far off now. Only one more block. When she pushed off the streetlight and started running again, she still felt desperate, as though if she didn’t keep running, Rick would find her. If she paused, then he would know somehow, and stop her. And she couldn’t let that happen. It was stupid, to think he was suddenly omnipresent, but she couldn’t help being paranoid that he was aware of her every step, breath, and thought.

Jessica’s house was in front of her. It was seven forty-five in the evening, and Morticia was fifteen minutes early, but she didn’t care. Without waiting another second, she approached the door and knocked.

When the door opened and she saw Jessica standing there, her face lighting up the moment she saw it was Morticia at the door, she felt a wave of relief wash over her that she felt hadn’t happened in days. Just the sight of her crush in front of her sent her into a state of bliss and she smiled when Jessica smiled and ushered her inside.

Everything felt okay. Morticia felt okay.

“You’re early.” Jessica closed the door behind her and began the ascent up the stairs, Morticia following her every step.

She couldn’t help but gush a little and shyly looked to the side, hoping her crush didn’t notice she was sweating from the dash over here, or that she’d been slightly out of breath at the doorway. That would be weird. “S-sorry, I hope I didn’t put y-you out?”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” With a small laugh that gave Morticia butterflies, Jessica led them into her room, and she was met with the scent of what appeared to be a watermelon candle burning on her dresser. Her whole room looked spotless, with her bed all neat and tidy, a few stuffed animals set accordingly atop the pillows, her floor appeared freshly vacuumed and cleaned, and Morticia couldn’t find a single speck of dust anywhere on her furniture.

Jessica really was the opposite of her, even in her sense of cleanliness. It made her feel a little guilty she had abandoned her room in the state it was in, but she also didn’t give a shit. It was a complicated feeling buzzing around inside of her from feeling bad she had run away, to also feeling justified that she had in the first place. It wasn’t worth worrying about, honestly. And as she got comfortable in Jessica’s room, felt less guilty the longer she inhaled that watermelon candle.

It was so nice and comfortable in here. When Jessica sat down on the beanbag chair at the foot of her bed and patted the spot next to her for Morticia to do the same, she felt the familiar presence of butterflies enter her stomach. No matter how many times she was around her, she never got over how pretty Jessica was, or how flawless her skin was, how cute she’d done her hair that day, and how amazed she was that she even talked to her at all.

“You want to watch a movie?”

Morticia sat down next to her, feeling the flush come to her cheeks when she felt the warmth of Jessica right up against her body. It felt so, so good. “Y-yeah.”


 

The movie was some generic romantic comedy bit. There were a lot of things about Jessica that surprised Morticia the more she got to know her. The first time she was ever invited over to her house, they played video games together, which was kind of a shock to her that someone as preppy and popular as Jessica would have such a nerdy hobby, but the longer she talked to her, the more she found out Jessica was actually a huge nerd.

She collected comic books and manga, had a huge superhero movie collection, but she was also into gushy romance books and girly stuff like makeup and what was considered ‘in’ with the fashion industry. Morticia spied several fashion magazines alongside the Batman comics and it was a little surprising to see Jessica had a hidden nerdy side to her.

Not that it was bad.

She probably felt some of her hobbies wouldn’t be accepted. They were in high school after all, which was social suicide in some cases. Morticia could understand if she didn’t want to gush about video games or anything like that to people, especially if she didn’t know them that well. Kids could be goddamn piranhas when they wanted to be.

The fact she could share her interests with Morticia made her feel special. She didn’t really play video games that much, but she still liked them. She liked superheroes too. Maybe they could read comics together, or go to the mall and gush about superheroes one day.

The movie was pretty typical romance comedy stuff. Morticia honestly lost interest about one third of the way through, right after the guy started chasing after the woman when she moved to New York and he realized his feelings for her. It felt like all these romantic comedies were the same and Morticia wasn’t really a big movie watcher to begin with, but if Jessica was into this type of thing, then she wasn’t going to complain.

Whatever she wanted to watch, Morticia would be happy with it. As long as she was here, sitting next to her on the beanbag chair, sharing her warmth and inhaling the scent of the watermelon candle—she was happy.

There was a big scene in the movie in which the couple met each other on the bridge (and stopped traffic while they were doing it) and Morticia was only halfway paying attention to what was going on with the plot. Something about the dude saying he would move to New York if it meant he could be with his beloved or something. The woman gasped and fell into his arms. Typical romance stuff.

Morticia was only halfway paying attention, but she noticed when she felt something touch her arm. When she looked over, she saw Jessica had brushed her fingernails against the side of her arm, and it made goosebumps well up on the spot. She felt her face flush all over again, especially by the fact Jessica was looking at her and smiling.

“Sorry, you look nervous. Am I making you nervous?”

Well, yes and no, but Morticia couldn’t tell her yes, because then she would stop. Holy shit, she couldn’t believe Jessica had asked her to come hang out, had asked her to watch a movie, and was now brushing her nails against her arm—right at the romantic climax of the movie. It was like a movie within a movie. Morticia felt her face gush red all over again as she fought for an answer.

There was no point in lying, or beating around the bush. She may as well come out and say it. So she did. “N-no. I-in fact—I l-like it.” It was embarrassing to say, and she felt so cheesy, her face growing even more red, but she wasn’t sure what else to do in this situation.

“You always looked so tense at school, I always wanted to ask you to hang out, but kind of lost my nerve when I got the chance.”

Morticia looked up at her, as Jessica had looked off to the side, smiling a little. Was she saying what she thought she was saying? Was Jessica the one too nervous to talk to Morticia? How the hell did that work out? It was always the opposite—Jessica was a princess and Morticia was—well, wasn’t.

Before she could stop herself, Morticia was speaking the first thing that came to mind. “I always th-thought you were pretty! E-ever since I f-first laid eyes on you.” Her face gushed, but she couldn’t help it when she let it all out. “I-I’ve liked you for a-a long time.”

There. She said it. It simultaneously felt like the hardest and easiest thing to say, but once it was out, she could feel the warmth accumulate all in her face, as she waited for Jessica’s response—fearful she would reject her.

But, she gave her a soft smile. Then held onto her hand. Morticia could feel the tips of her nails graze over the flesh of her knuckles briefly before she cupped her palm over her, and her face grew even more hot. It was too much to handle at once, and she was surely dreaming at this point now, but maybe she really was this happy, and maybe things really were okay.

“Morti, can I kiss you?”

Of course she could. With barely a wasted second, Morticia nodded, almost too desperately.

And then Jessica kissed her.

It was every bit as wonderful as Morticia had fantasized it would be. This was something she had only dreamt of at night time, the thing she daydreamed about before drifting off to sleep, or thinking about in class when she was supposed to be listening to a lecture on atoms and hydrogen bonds.

Jessica’s lips were soft, and she could taste the chapstick she’d used. It was strawberry flavor, consuming every one of her senses in that moment. The movie going on in the background didn’t matter. The watermelon candle didn’t matter. The beads from the beanbag chair under her butt didn’t matter.

But Jessica’s strawberry flavored chapstick and the scent of her berry perfume when she moved in close enough that Morticia could smell her, when she could feel how perfect her mouth fit against hers, when her brain was afire with the moment of her crush kissing her—Morticia was on top of the world.

It felt like it lasted an eternity, but it was only a few short moments, when Jessica lifted away from her, but Morticia was still overcome with the scent of strawberry in her mouth, and of the perfume hanging in the air. It felt like she’d floated for a moment, and she relaxed in the chair, feeling the anxiety wash away in one fell swoop.

Who cared that her room was dirty? That she ran away? That nobody knew she was here? This was what mattered and Jessica was what mattered.

She smiled. Because Jessica hadn’t rejected her. She smiled because she was here with Jessica, feeling her warmth, tasting her chapstick, smelling her perfume while the movie droned on in the background. The words didn’t matter. The plot didn’t matter.

Morticia felt the butterflies in her stomach, but they weren’t from nerves as they usually were. She felt a different kind of feeling she wasn’t used to. A warm pit down in the bottom of her stomach swell with every second Jessica gave her that soft smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

They watched another movie.


 

“It’s almost midnight.”

When the second movie was over and they had lost track of the time, Morticia wanted to hold her hand just a little longer and feel the edge of her nails scrape the inner portion of her fingers—just for a little longer, but she was right. It was getting late, and she’d spent enough time here. She had no idea what time her parents planned to be back from their night out, or how drunk they were going to be, but it would be best if Morticia got back home and snuck back in her bedroom before they noticed.

She could always clean her room tomorrow. At least now she had a reason to feel a little joy. The day had been an absolute nightmare at home, but she could feel some peace of mind knowing Jessica liked her back. It was strange, but she’d had a small paranoid fear of being found out for some reason, but she couldn’t help it.

Morticia couldn’t help being paranoid of everything, even her crush in a moment like this and she felt terrible because of it. How dare she feel suspicious of Jessica of all people? She didn’t deserve her suspicions. Morticia had no reason to suspect her of anything like that—but there was the fear of rejection deep down.

The fear of Jessica somehow knowing. The fear of her finding out and calling Morticia disgusting. What if she was disgusting? What if she had seduced him? What if they all blamed her—but she shook her head. It would do no good to think like that.

Not with Jessica smiling at her that way, gently rubbing the pads of her fingers over her knuckles just ever-so gently.

“I-I’ll text you.” It felt weird to say, since Morticia wasn’t really used to saying that to anyone, let alone her crush, but it felt nice. Wonderful even. It made her smile, and gush a little at the mere mention of it, the idea of her texting Jessica to make plans for later. She could actually fill up her weekends with something to do now, instead of lie around at home.

When they waved bye at her door, Morticia turned to face the looming darkness of the street in front of her. Lit only by the streetlights, she felt the coolness of the night air grip at her, but the warmth in her face was enough. She felt warm all over during the walk home and didn’t really want to go back home.

She wished Jessica would have asked her to spend the night. She would have gladly stayed the night at her house, even without telling her parents. It was none of their business and hell they were probably drunk anyway, so who was to say what time they were going to get home tonight? It was nobody else’s business, but even if she did get in trouble, what the fuck were they going to do about it? Make her clean her room? Ground her?

It wouldn’t matter. She didn’t care if they found out and grounded her. It really didn’t matter. Hell, she probably needed to clean her room after all. It wouldn’t hurt to at least pick up the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and straighten her shelves up and clear away those soda cans on the desk. Morticia was never usually a dirty person, but not tidy by any means either. Whenever her room was clean, it always felt like hours later, it was in disarray again.

Just unorganized.

There was her house. The walk home, even though she hadn’t run this time, felt much faster than running away from it earlier. From where she stood outside, she could see the car wasn’t in the driveway, nor did there appear to be any lights on in the house. So, she assumed her parents weren’t even back yet. Good, then she wouldn’t have to lie about sneaking out in the first place. Or tell the truth and not give a damn and just say she was at Jessica’s. It didn’t matter either way honestly.

She couldn’t help but pause when she reached for the door handle.

He was still inside though. She knew he was lurking around somewhere. Unless he had taken his ship out to go binge drinking at some alien planet or used the portal gun to travel to the bar full of Ricks again, that meant he was still lurking in the house. The garage door was closed, which usually meant he was either out, or had gone to bed.

Morticia sighed. If only Jessica had asked her to stay the night. She didn’t want to be back here. Didn’t want to open the door and have to inevitably face him again. Have to think about what happened. What he did.

That awful feeling welled up until it felt like someone dropped a rock in her stomach. No, no, she couldn’t get emotional out here on the porch. But.

Looking at the door, she felt she didn’t even have the courage to open it, knowing he was inside. What if he wasn’t though? What if she got insanely lucky and he really was gone somewhere? For a moment, she considered waiting for her parents to drive up, so she could at least walk inside with them. Because they were safe. He wouldn’t touch her if they were there. But then, they would question her. Why was she outside? Why was she dressed?

They would question her, and she would fumble and not know how to answer.

She didn’t know what to do as she stood there staring at the front door to her house. This was fucked up, this was so, so fucked up. She shouldn’t have to be scared to go into her own house. But, he made her scared.

She could blame him and say it was his fault, at least to herself. She knew. Even if nobody else had to know, she knew.

Letting out a long sigh, Morticia gripped the handle of the door, opening it as quietly as she could. When she peeked her head inside, the darkness of the kitchen and the living room met her, but she didn’t spot anyone hiding around inside. It seemed like the coast was clear.

Quietly as she could, she closed the door behind her and sneaked past the kitchen, up to the stairs. The house was still as eerily quiet as she had left it earlier, making her feel on edge. It was never this quiet, and she could only hope that meant Rick was gone off drinking as well. She could have checked the garage or his bedroom, but she really didn’t want to. It would be best just to head back to bed and pretend she never left.

The upstairs hallway was just as dark and quiet as the rest of the house. Maybe she would shower one more time before she finally went to bed. But, oh, the scent of Jessica was on her. She could smell the berry perfume lingering on her skin from where she’d touched her, and didn’t want the feeling to go away, as much as she wanted. But, she also felt dirty again. She was going to ruin her skin showering this much, but she didn’t give a fuck. Now was as good a time as any since the house was empty.

When she opened her bedroom door, the only light was the moonlight cascading down from her window to shine onto her bed. But. She didn’t have to flick on her light to see him sitting there.

He’d been drinking, and he made a heavy slurring noise when she first swung her door open, until she froze. How long he’d been in her room, sitting on her bed in the dark, she had no idea, but she felt that awful feeling grip her so tight, it caused her to freeze when she did spot him.

And then his voice, deep and ragged from the booze. Whatever he’d been drinking was affecting him hard, until she heard it in his voice, and she knew the second he opened his mouth he was angry. “Where were you…” Not even a question, but a demand.

Morticia felt her jaw seize up, until she couldn’t answer. It felt like she was being reprimanded by him again in that way, like he was talking to her in that tone as though she’d done something wrong. Even though she technically had—but for him to do it. The fear was making her freeze until she couldn’t shake, and she didn’t even know if she wanted to tell him, but she opened her mouth to answer, to try and think of some excuse. Any lie she could have come up with fell flat immediately, and her words evaporated.

But he didn’t give her a chance. “Y-you were over a-a-at that bitch’s house, weren’t you?” Then he stood, and she could see his silhouette looming over her in the view of the window. She wanted to back up, she wanted to turn and run back down the hallway, run screaming out the door for her mom and dad, but she was frozen. This was wrong—and she shouldn’t have come up here. She shouldn’t have come home. The frustration and fear were tearing at her all at once. Why the fuck was he doing this? Why did she have to feel this way? Why did he—why did he have to make her feel scared and vulnerable in her own house? This wasn’t even his house—he just took over because he felt like it. He was an old bastard.

She opened her mouth again to respond to him, but he cut her off.

“I-I knew y-you were with her, goddamn, y-y-you’re so fucking predictable, Morti. What’d she do, huh? You fuck her?”

Being accused so blatantly caused her to take a step back and she could only stare at his face in abject horror. Of course they didn’t fuck, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out, not when he was throwing accusations at her and stepping ever-so closer.

He moved, and then he was so close, he reached out and grabbed her by her arms, until she winced more from the sudden move than the pain, but then he squeezed. He wanted it to hurt, he wanted to dig his nails into her, and she could feel it. She could feel the desperation in his grip when he held onto her, and she panicked when he kept talking. “You fuck her? Did you f-fuck her, Morti? Huh? S-she t-t-tell you she was g-gonna g-g-go out with you if you licked her pussy? Huh?” The more he talked, the faster his words slurred out, and the faster his words got, the more his grip started crushing her, until she was gasping out in pain.

“No!” Even though she was pulling away from him, he wasn’t letting up, and each time she pulled, he dug until she was sure his nails were piercing her flesh, and she cried out in pain at the feeling. “S-STOP! We didn’t do a-anything! Goddamn it, Rick, that hurts !” She hoped by the tone in her voice he would know she was telling the truth and let go.

But he didn’t. “Y-you’re a fucking liar. I-I know you fucked. I know you did. Y-you’ve been w-wanting inside that girl’s skirt since d-day one, Morti. You think I’m s-stupid? You don’t sneak out of the f-fucking house and n-n-not fuck, Morti. T-tell me what she did to you. D-did she eat you out, huh? She grab your tits? D-did you eat her out?”

Fuck, she felt the blush on her face reddening with every second at his blunt accusations. She couldn’t keep up with all that he was saying, as he was spitting it out so fast and slurring most of what he said, but everything was angry. Loud and angry. It was embarrassing that he would ask her that. Even if she and Jessica had decided to do that, that was her goddamn business, and he had no right to question her about it.

But, the grip on her arm, and the way he was crushing her underneath him, she couldn’t stand it. He wasn’t letting go. It wasn’t his goddamn business, but she couldn’t stand it. If he would let her go, she blurted out, “WE KISSED , OKAY?” And hadn’t meant to yell it as loud as she had, and felt the flush return at the confession, because he wasn’t supposed to know that. It was her business.

He stopped. When she stood there, tears in her eyes, face red from the confession, and her arms sore now from where he gripped, he stopped spouting nonsense at her for a moment and just stared at her. Morticia wanted to move out of his grip and get away from him. She wanted him to go get drunk in the garage, or go pass out in his bedroom. Why the fuck did she have to deal with his bullshit when she got home? It wasn’t fair. He was so fucked up, asking her stuff like that, but why did he even care? Was it to torture her? Did he delight in having her spill what her relationship status was now? Why did he care?

An odd silence had fallen over when she yelled at him. She couldn’t look away from his face when he stared, because he wasn’t saying anything anymore, and she wasn’t sure why. But, she wanted to go. She wanted him to let go, let her go shower, because now she felt dirty all over again, even more so, and she wanted him to go to bed, not bother her anymore, and she would go to bed too. They wouldn’t have to bother each other anymore.

She made to move from his grasp, but then he moved suddenly, so suddenly it made her jump, when he moved down so fast right at her face—and kissed her.

Morticia was frozen again.

This wasn’t happening. This was not happening. It wasn't happening. It wasn’t happening, it wasn’t.

She could only stare and felt her whole body grow numb in that moment. He wasn’t doing this. This was a horrible nightmare she couldn’t wake up from, but he wasn’t actually doing this.

But, she felt it. The longer he was pressed into her, she felt his tongue creep out, and felt the warmth invade her, until she choked out a sob at the feeling of it. The embarrassed tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back fell down her face, but she couldn’t help it.

She tried to push him off, because he was disgusting, and she was disgusting, and he shouldn’t have been doing this, but he wouldn’t let up from where he’d had his grip on her arms, and it made her cry harder at the feeling of his fingers digging even deeper into her. There would be bruises. He was hurting her. Just like her thighs, he was going to create a cluster there that she would have to hide until they went away, because she didn’t know how to explain it.

He let off, and she reeled back away from him, mortified. Why would he do this? Why was he doing this to her? She felt like she’d been reduced to jelly in his hold, and couldn’t feel her legs anymore. Her knees knocked together, she lost all semblance of her balance, and would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding onto her.

All she could seem to mutter out in that moment was a small, “N-no…” as she stared at him in shock. It hadn’t happened, and last night hadn’t happened. He wouldn’t do this again, not when her parents were going to be home any second.

But, her heart sank when he released one of her arms to reach out behind her, slam her door closed, and pull her in close to him. “You j-just kissed, huh?” Somehow, his voice had gotten deeper, more raspy from the alcohol, and she could smell it on him.

She wanted to open her mouth to answer, but it was a rhetorical question. He didn’t want an answer, and the moment she did open her mouth, he moved back in to kiss her again.

Morticia panicked. Flinging her head to the side, she panicked, trying to move away from him, not wanting to feel his mouth against hers again, and she straight up panicked when he pressed her against the bedroom door, and she was trapped. “Rick!” She knew nothing she said would appeal to his weakness, if even he had one, but she was panicking, and felt her heart racing so hard in that moment, that it was almost painful. She wanted to push at him, shove him away, run to Mom and Dad and beg them to save her. Even if they blamed her for this, she wanted them to save her.

When she moved, he moved too, kissing the underside of her neck, and she writhed at the feeling of his mouth against her. It was disgusting, and she was disgusting. He’d pushed her arms up against the door, and held her there by her wrists, which wasn’t any less painful than digging his nails into her arm, and she could feel the sting from where he’d grabbed her. Goddammit, why was he doing this to her.

The tears that fell blurred her vision and she was mumbling nonsensical things as he continued sucking at her neck and kissing random spots. “Oh god, oh god oh godohgod, R-Rick, stop, d-don’t do this.” Even through her begging, she knew he wouldn’t stop, because he didn’t stop last night. But, she couldn’t help it.

Maybe he knew that.

When he sucked at a random spot that cause him to pull down the collar of her shirt and expose her shoulder, she felt her panic rising, and started rambling even more things, things she didn’t mean, but wanted to say just so he would let her go. “I-I shouldn’t h-have g-g-gone to Jessica’s, I-I should h-have stayed home, please, god—” She was cut off when he suddenly bit the edge of her shoulder, but not hard enough to cause pain, but enough that she felt it. She winced despite it not hurting, but out of reflex to the feeling of his teeth having dug into her skin. What if he did bite her hard enough to tear through the skin? The image of him biting the blood out of her sent her heart racing in fear all over again, and she started blubbering the more she cried. “G-god, stop, R-Rick, I’m sorry, o-okay.” She sobbed, not being able to control it as they came out and her shoulders heaved when she let it out, when she cried into him. “I-I’m sorry…”

Nothing she said was going to get through to him, she knew that, but she couldn’t stop the blubbering mess she was spouting off to him. It was a reflex by this point. It was a reflex to beg when he was touching her like this—when he’d kissed her—when he was doing this, and she just wanted it to stop.

She wanted it to stop.

“You don’t g-get it.” She felt his breath on her neck, and it was warm. The scent of alcohol wafted up into the air, making her sick. His hands that held onto her wrists were cold, and she shivered at the touch, that so clashed with his warm breath against her. It was such a horrible feeling, one that she couldn’t control her sobs for the life of her from. She continued shaking as the sobs took hold of her body, not able to stop even when he leaned away from her and gave her a hard stare. The expression on his face was so confusing.

He looked like he was the one in pain. Even though her shoulders were rising and falling with each sob that escaped, and she was trying to wriggle away from him, and begging him to stop, why was he the one that looked as though she were making unreasonable demands from him? Why was he acting as though she was the one hurting him?

But then he kept talking, even as he released one of her wrists, wasting not one second before he dug his fingers into her pants. Her gasps, her small wriggles as she fought to resist him—he only pulled her back into place with his opposite hand, and ripped the zipper of her pants. He was pulling, yanking at the fabric, he was going to tear her clothes off at this point—but he kept talking. “Y-you don’t understand anything, M-Morti. You think you do. You don’t. Y-you’re a fucking—fucking—” Whatever insult he was going to throw at her was lost in his mumbling as he worked her pants down until they were bunched up around her thighs. “M-Most Mortys w-would kill for this, you know? M-most Mortys o-out there d-don’t h-have what you have.”

She bit her lip, her sobs having died down as he slurred at her, but his words sank in in a horrible kind of way. Was he trying to justify this? Was he really trying to make excuses for doing something like this to her? The more he bunched her pants down as he talked, until he was pulling at her underwear to move it down as well, the more she froze against her position, just listening to him. Listening to his bullshit.

“Th-there’s even u-universes where there’s Mortys like you. Morticias . They’re j-just like you, Morti.” He paused for a moment, only a moment to look at her, before moving his hand to her crotch where he brushed his fingers over the skin, making her shiver unpleasantly. “And y-you know what, Morti? Th-they like it. They fucking—fucking cream themselves to the thought of me. Me , Morti. Did y-you know that? You didn’t, I-I know you didn’t.”

As he worked his fingers to the area between her legs, Morticia could feel her face gush with shame. The only thing she could think to respond with was a tiny, almost unheard, “Get off me, Rick.” But she knew he wouldn’t.

The more she resisted him and pushed, the more he pulled and argued with her. She could feel it when he touched her, when he rubbed his fingers against her clit, when she had to turn to look to the side to avoid looking at him again should he look her in the eye. She couldn’t stand that look on his face. He was angry in the way he rubbed against her, desperate, and she felt like he was rubbing her raw already.

She squirmed in his hold, but each time she made to move away, he only pulled her back by her wrist. There was nothing she could do to push him away, and as he rubbed against her, felt as though she was going to throw up from the feeling of his hands against her again. Why did he have to do this?

She felt so ashamed he was looking at her this way. That he was trying to justify this by being angry at her.

“I-I bet you can’t imagine that, huh, M-Morti? Th-that there’s a you somewhere wh-who wants me s-so bad sh-she can’t stand it? Who p-probably touches h-herself every night to the idea of me f-fucking her?”

The more he talked, the more she felt the shame cover her face until she was sure her whole body had turned red. The feeling of his hands rubbing in and out between her legs was becoming sore, and she didn’t feel anything from it. He was only rubbing her raw. She hoped her words were biting sarcasm when she spit them out. “Th-then go fuck one of th-them, if you w-want it s-so bad.”

“Th-they wouldn’t be my Morty though.” As he rubbed her and she shifted from how uncomfortable it was becoming, he suddenly bent down to move into her face. “Did you forget you came around my dick last night?”

Her eyes widened at his words, and she looked away from him, hating—absolutely fucking hating that goddamn smirk on his face, like he was so proud, like he was loving this.

“Why are you doing this?” It was a legitimate question, but one she knew wasn’t going to get an answer. Maybe he was an asshole. She knew—she knew he roamed around the galaxy fucking any alien he could ever want. He could bed whoever and whatever he wanted.

Why do this?

He ignored her. Instead of answering the question, he removed his hand from in between her legs when she stopped squirming from the movement, as it had obviously stopped feeling good at some point and he was only rubbing her raw. She wasn’t sure what the point of it was. If he wanted to hurt her, wouldn’t he want her to be uncomfortable?

But then he moved down to his knees, much like he’d done the night before, and Morticia felt her heart beating so hard, it was the only sound in that moment.

He wouldn’t—

And he gave her an odd smile. It was unsettling, and sent that pit of fear down into her once again, until she felt she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t fight him off.

Before she could say anything or resist him again, he gripped her thighs and forced her apart enough for him to move in between her. “Y-you’re going to come whether you like it or not.” Before she could argue, before she could say anything in response, he moved his head down in between her legs and she felt his tongue come out around her.

Her whole body seized up. At the feeling of his mouth on her, she let out an uncontrollable gasp and backed up against the door, almost bashing her head against it when she moved—both frozen from the feeling and beginning to shake at the idea.

He was eating her out.

Rick was eating her out. He was eating her out .

She took the moment her hands were free from him and gripped onto his shoulders, trying to push. There was no goddamn way he was doing this. Not here, not in the house, not when her parents could come home any minute.

She couldn’t help it. Morticia felt the tears fall almost instantly again, when that feeling surfaced. It wasn’t his hands against her, it wasn’t the rough texture of his fingers rubbing her raw and giving absolutely no feeling, but now his tongue was there, and she felt it. God, did she feel it. It was all over her, she felt her back arch at it, felt her insides quake, felt her throat tighten, and she wanted to scream. Scream for help, scream for mom to save her, to please, please don’t tell her this was her fault, please don’t blame her and say she was the one who seduced him.

Because if he was right and the other Morticias wanted it—then a scary thought took hold of her—

What if she did want this?

The idea of her moaning his name and touching herself to him at night—it made her sick. She couldn’t help the thought of what he said from invading her thoughts—that the other Mortys and Morticias like her wanted this. That they were the ones who begged their Ricks for it.

They were the same people across the universe—so what if she really did seduce him without realizing? What if she’d been doing it for a long time and it really was all her fault?

What if she’d asked for this?

The idea made the tears fall harder, as he gripped her thighs below and squeezed, until she felt his fingernails digging into her, as he sucked and sucked and ate her out as though he were desperate for her to come—and she cried. Because why else would he do this to her?

It was sick, she was disgusting, she was fucking disgusting, and maybe she had asked for this without realizing, but she didn’t mean to. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She didn’t want him doing this to her, and she tried to tell herself over and over she had feelings for Jessica.

They kissed tonight.

She thought it meant something. She thought Jessica liked her.

And the way Rick was clinging to her, and she felt orgasm was about to take her, even though she didn’t want it—she cried at the idea that maybe she was subconsciously asking for this. Because why else would Rick fuck her?

He’d never done anything like this to her. She never saw any hints that he was interested in her sexually before. There was never a passing glance or a slip up of words while out on an adventure.

She always thought he disliked her, or looked down on her.

This had to be her fault. She’d done something wrong. Maybe not consciously, but maybe it really was her fault .

When she was on the brink of orgasm, she could feel it. And the flush came to her face. It was happening, and it was because of him.

Because of her .

Gripping his coat and squeezing, she moaned when it happened, when it finally took hold and she came. She heaved out gasps of air. “R-Rick!” She couldn’t help but gasp his name out in fear when it took hold of her, because this was a scary feeling. She was used to this happening when she was thinking of Jessica.

But not this.

This was never supposed to be associated with him. A good feeling, but now it was something scary, and she felt both pain and like everything was okay when she backed up against the door again, squeezing his coat in her hands and coming into his mouth.

When the haze took her, she thought she heard his voice below her, but she wasn’t sure.

“Y-yeah, y-you did good, baby…”

But maybe she had imagined it. In the haze she was in, she felt like every muscle in her body relaxed all at once and she fell against the door, breathing, just breathing. Focusing on existing in that moment and breathing.

A light appeared from the window once Rick had stood up, moving back into her as though he were going to kiss her once again, but Morticia was too spent to bother moving away from him anymore. The headlights were from the car, and they both heard the car doors open and close as the indication that both her parents had finally returned home, and Rick stepped away from her.

“God fucking dammit .” He gritted his teeth and spat the words out like venom, and Morticia froze in silent horror for a split moment.

The fact her parents were home didn’t mean she was safe. If Rick wanted to keep going with her, he would just take her to the bunker again, and she had no doubts he would open a portal right now and do that.

He didn’t move. But, he seemed to be contemplating this idea, and Morticia waited. Whatever he wanted to do, he could do it. Her parents were probably both hammered anyway, who was to say he couldn’t keep going right here and get away with it?

“Ugh—fuck it.” Without another word to her, he took her by the arm before pulling her away from the door and letting himself through it. Just as she heard the loud drunken voice of her mom echo from downstairs, and Jerry’s slightly more sober voice next to her going on about what they did that evening, and Rick had disappeared down the hallway.

Morticia stood in silence as she listened to the sounds from downstairs. Mom was hammered, and loud, and she heard Rick greet her like nothing was wrong, saying something about how now it was a party.

But, she gripped the edges of her pants that still sat bunched up around her knees and pulled them off. She then went to tug on her underwear, about to pull them off too, but felt something in between her legs.

She was still wet from earlier, and felt the shame overtake her in a way that felt as though a whole weight had crushed her entire body. Morticia pulled her underwear back up before grabbing some clean clothes from the dresser. When she exited the room, she could still hear the loud voices from downstairs, Jerry saying something about the restaurant taking forever to seat them, and Beth slurring about how she wanted to order four glasses of wine before they left, but also wanted two desserts.

The only thing that drowned out the voices was the shower. Once Morticia closed herself off inside, she threw off her clothes at once and stepped into the shower. The disgusting feeling between her leg was prominent, and she pulled the shower head down to begin washing herself.

She couldn't believe he kissed her. Didn’t understand it. When she thought of it, she couldn't help but wipe at her mouth when she remembered how it felt earlier, and somehow was even more invading if he put his mouth on her.

The tears welled up again, but she couldn’t stop them.

Why was he doing this? What had she done to make him do this to her? Was it a subconscious thing she’d done that made him think she wanted this? Just because there were other Mortys in other universes who did this and liked it didn’t mean she did.

She kept telling herself she still harbored her crush for Jessica. They kissed tonight too, and she felt something when that happened. She felt good when she kissed Jessica, when she finally admitted she liked her, because it had been her dream for so long. And it finally happened.

When Rick had kissed her—she just felt—

She looked down at her hands. They were red from the heat of the water, and the tears were still falling.

She felt disgusting. Because maybe this had been her fault the whole time, but maybe it hadn’t. She didn’t know anymore.

She scrubbed her hair, washed her face three times, held the water as hot as she could stand it between her legs until it burned, and still, she washed again. It was never going to feel clean again, but she wanted to try.

When she looked down at her arms, she saw them. The bruises where he’d grabbed her so hard, and the indentions where his fingernails had dug into her flesh. He’d broken through the skin in a couple of places, but she could already see a pattern of new bruises forming just on her forearm in the shape of the pads of his fingers.

Goddammit.

She hugged onto herself so she couldn’t see the bruises anymore.

God fucking dammit.

The tears only fell harder the longer she stayed in the shower.

Once the lull of the shower had set in, she could hear their drunken conversation from downstairs. Not the actual words, but the random noises. She heard mom laughing, dad laughing. And then Rick laughing with them.

She felt her chest constrict at the sound of it all, and it only made her sick to her stomach until she curled into a ball while underneath the running water.

Because this was probably her fault.


Chapter Text

Fuck.

The light above him was blinding when it flicked on and he had a splitting headache the instant it happened. Body ached. Head hurt. He was face down on the floor again with a bottle right next to him, possibly leaking out onto his clothes. This scenario was so familiar, but he'd done this countless times to know that he'd passed out drunk in the garage yet again. Not like it wasn't anything new and hell, sometimes he preferred it that way.

But then, "Dad?"

The all too familiar scene of Beth coming into the room, because he had stayed in here too long, because he decided to be a fucking piece of shit and waste his Saturday night, because he had to come in here after midnight with the intent to work on something to take his mind off of things--but every time.

Every fucking time.

He went for the bottle instead.

Dove into the liquor cabinet and drank so much that he was sure he was going to throw up everything afterwards, but he kept drinking until he blacked out and woke up with a massive hangover the next morning. It always happened like this. It always fucking happened, so what was the point in pretending like he wanted to work on something else?

But, fuck Beth. He wished she didn't have to come in here and wake him up like this, look at him like she was worried about him, and ask him if he was okay. When she was waking him up from a blackout on the floor. Of course, he wasn't okay. The fuck did she think was okay with him?

But, every time, he brushed her off. He couldn't bring himself to yell at her, or tell her to leave him the hell alone, even though he really wanted to. The headache only worsened when he sat up, but at least he hadn't spilled anything onto his clothes.

She was worried, but who was he to tell her any different? If he yelled at her, she wouldn't question him either way. She wouldn't hate him for it, but he just sighed.

It was Sunday, and he wanted to be left alone.

"I-I've got s-something super important to work on today, sweetie." He finally stood to his feet, wobbled for a few seconds, and had to catch himself on the work bench. It took every ounce of his willpower not to scream at her to go the fuck away, leave him alone, and stop worrying over him like this when he wasn't worth her feelings like that.

She only nodded, like he knew she would. "Okay, um, I'll let you know when dinner's ready." A small little smile, that he reeled back from. Of course, he didn't smile back at her, but he shrank back into his work bench, and grabbed a random item on the desk, hoping she would get the hint to leave him alone.

Of course, she did.

It was Sunday, and Rick was alone.

Once Beth closed the door, it was like all of the noise was sucked away all at once. He couldn't hear Jerry's voice from inside the house telling Summer she needed to stop being lazy and do the dishes. He couldn't hear Beth ask everyone what they wanted for lunch while she ignored Jerry's protests about what they were going to do with Summer. The tv that was usually blaring in the background was gone.

The revving of the neighbor's car engines from outside was gone. There were no birds chirping or people talking about nonsensical things. The sounds that he'd become complacent with were no longer there, and he could feel the silence in the air as though it were a physical thing coming into the garage to choke him.

He looked down at the vial of liquid he'd grabbed and stared at it like it would hold all the answers for him. Staring at all the shit on his desk wasn't going to do any good. And he thought he wanted to be alone, but the longer he stood there, prepared to focus and work on a project, the more he knew.

He couldn't do it.

Every time he started something, his thoughts wandered off with him, and he ended up drinking. Because that's what happened last night. After Beth and Jerry returned home and he tried to chat them up, tried to be as nonchalant as he possibly could, on the inside, he was aching.

Why'd he do it?

When they'd left earlier that evening and he watched as Jerry opened the car door for Beth like the gentleman he always tried so hard to be, when he tucked himself away in the driver's seat and drove off down the road, Rick had already gotten excited for what the evening entailed because of that.

He would be alone with her. Summer wasn't there, she was off hanging with her friends, and it was so rare to get an evening alone with Morti nowadays. He honestly felt the excitement take him so hard he almost choked on it when he realized what it meant. That he was going to have a whole evening alone with Morti. Who knew how long they were going to be gone, and if he knew his own daughter, he knew without a doubt she would want to sit and drink for a while. Jerry would protest, but eventually give into her.

They'd be gone for hours. It would be perfect. He wanted to plan the evening, but got so caught up in his excitement, lost all inhibition for that moment of weakness, because he wanted to do so much. Maybe he would let her drink. A drunk Morti falling all over him while completely losing her mind for him. Maybe that's all she needed was a little push, something to loosen her up. He could grab something from the liquor cabinet, something light. He wasn't planning to shove straight up whiskey down her throat or anything, but he did like the idea of her slowly sipping wine until she got tipsy.

He grabbed something sweet. Morti was still young, and so she still like chocolate and sweet things. Not that he didn't sometimes too, but he started going for the harder things nowadays, not really caring for flavor, but potency. This wasn't about potency though.

This was making him more and more excited the more he thought about it. A drink with Morti. It would be perfect, because they could start off a little slower. Sometimes he liked going slower, and maybe she needed that right now. The pang of guilt entered his stomach when he thought about how she was avoiding him now, refusing to even look at him. It wasn't a lie to say he fucking hated that. When he passed her by just for her to downcast her gaze and ignore him--he wanted to nab her by the arm and drag her off to the bunker--just to show her. That would show her. He would show her then. Show her how fucking amazing he could make her feel. How fucking raw he could fuck her into the floor, but he wouldn't do that.

Tonight was going to be about something different. Once he'd grabbed the only thing in his cabinet that was sweet, he stood up and had to smile at the idea of Morti drinking this. He wondered what kind of drunk she would be. Maybe if he got her hammered, she would loosen up enough to let him do more with her. Maybe he could touch her without all the resistance and bullshit.

This wasn't an apology. But, he tried to think from a different angle that maybe going at it the way he had wasn't the right way--because when he thought of the way she looked at him and avoided him--but shook his head. That wasn't his goddamn fault if she was being a little bitch about it--but he had to make her see. Some kind of way. Maybe if he planned this right, she would appreciate it differently.

Maybe if he treated her gently, she wouldn't think it was so bad.

The house was quiet, so quiet that he could hear his footsteps and every breath he made when he ascended the stairs. He kept thinking she would love it, he was going to make her love it--no matter what.

To see her room empty was more of a kick in the balls than he ever thought possible. A quick search of the house yielded no results, and he knew without a doubt what had happened.

She'd ran away. The fucking bitch bailed on him. Was she really so sneaky that she had gotten passed him without him realizing? He'd sank on the bed when he realized with each passing second that sank into his stomach like a brick that Morti ran away. She ran away. She ran away.

The bottle was drained dry, but he knew. She'd sneaked off to go see that stupid crush of hers. He'd gotten paranoid at first that it was an indefinite decision. That Morti had run away for good, and he could feel the way his chest caved at the idea of that--but he had to think rationally. Where in the hell did she think she was going to go? She was fourteen. If anything, she'd get picked up by the cops and dumped back off at the house. No, she wouldn't just go running off without a place in mind to run away to.

Hours passed, and each second he was alone in her room thinking of the possibilities of where she could have gone filled him with a sense of dread he never thought possible. She could have gotten picked up off the streets and kidnapped for all he knew.

But, she came back.

And goddamn.

That look on her face. She was guilty.

He knew instantly where she'd been. You don't fucking run away and come back home--or maybe you do, fuck he didn't know. There was no denying she'd been to that girl's house the moment he saw her. He knew--and he was fucking pissed.

Morti was so stupid. So fucking stupid--she had no idea--she was a dumbass fucking teenager letting her hormones drive her emotions like an idiot, and here she was, letting them take over, because she was stupid. She let that girl play her like a fiddle, and he was pissed. So fucking pissed, because he knew just from the guilty look on her face that she probably fucked her crush that night.

And it made him angry.

So fucking angry.

Because she had no idea what she already had and she was going to let that girl play with her emotions and probably break her heart one day--and fuck, why didn't she just listen to him and forget about her? If she didn't bother with that crush and think about what was under her skirt all the time, Morti could focus on other things, and he--

He was right up on her, and he could smell that other girl on her. Morti didn't wear perfume. Especially not strawberry scented fruity bullshit perfume. It was enough to send him over the edge, even with his senses dulled by the haze of alcohol, but he couldn't control himself in that moment.

She was so stupid. So fucking stupid. If only he could make her understand--and if only she would just let him fuck her and let it feel good, and call out his name, because god did he want her.

He knew he had fucked her in anger that night, but he didn't care. Morti deserved it for doing that, for sneaking out and thinking Jessica wanted anything to do with her. Goddamn, what did he have to do to prove to her that anything involving that girl wasn't going to last? Why didn't she just listen to him? If only she listened to him.

But, even though he was angry, and desperate, and he had grabbed her so hard she was wincing and begging him to let her go, he found some satisfaction in the fact she called his name out when she came. That's fucking right. She called to him. Not Jessica. It was him. He knew she liked it, even if she wanted to deny it--he fucking knew.

He was going to do it then. With her back against the door, he was going to fuck her right then in her bedroom--because he wanted to see her writhing underneath him again. Wanted to throw her onto her bed and watch her come multiple times while she screamed for him even more. He wanted to grind on her and watch as she begged for it, as she lost control of herself and screamed for him--god, did he want that so bad in that moment. And he was going to do it. He was going to kiss her again, until she couldn't breathe anymore, until she got light-headed from it and her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she moaned out his name until he wanted to come too.

But.

He didn't know why he stopped.

It was dark in her room, but he was going to go back and fucking ravage her as long as he wanted, even if her parents came home--he would just take her to the bunker and fuck all night long--but. The headlights shined in thought he window and he got a glimpse at what he'd done.

Morti's arms were bruised in multiple places from where he'd grabbed her, and he caught a glance of her thighs, splotched red for some reason as though she'd been burned, and also covered in bruises. And her face.

Her goddamn face was covered in tears. He'd never seen her so pathetic in his life before. He'd seen her cry plenty of times before over stupid shit, but.

Seeing her eyes red and puffy, the tears streaked down her cheeks from having cried so much that night--he couldn't help but stop. She looked so.

He leaned back up, that feeling of guilt entering his stomach once again when he looked at her. Really looked at her.

With her back against the door and her pants down around her knees, having just orgasmed while she screamed out his name, she looked spent and exhausted. No more tears fell down, but her face was wet and red. She wasn't looking at him anymore, but he could see in the way her body slumped up against the door that even if he took her, she wouldn't fight him.

Even though he would have loved that, he couldn't find it in himself to do it. Not with that look on her face. Why did she have to look like he was absolutely torturing her? Why the fuck did she have to act like this was a bad thing?

The voices of Jerry and Beth could be heard outside, and he couldn't afford to waste any more time. It was either fuck her now, take her to the bunker and finish the job. Or don't.

Even though he knew he could, even though he knew she wouldn't fight him if he did take her back there to finish what he started, he just couldn't fucking do it. Not when she looked like that. Not when she was crying and looked absolutely miserable.

He felt so compelled to tell her don't do that. Why are you making this so difficult? It's not that bad. Stop acting like it's so bad. Morti, just--

He swallowed.

Just like it.

But, he couldn't.

He brushed past her and walked out of the room, down the hallway and greeted Beth and Jerry when they came through the front door. He pretended like nothing was wrong the whole night, even though he felt like something was tearing at his insides the whole time.

It didn't take long for Beth to pass out on the couch, and Jerry said goodnight before carrying her upstairs, leaving Rick alone to his devices. He was going to the garage to work on a project, but he ended up drinking too. The liquor he'd downed earlier had worn off a while ago, but he needed to pass out too. He almost contemplated going to another planet to get some drugs, something to really get him hammered and let him forget.

Because there was no way he was going to forget the way Morti looked at him tonight. Not for a long time. Every time he thought about it, a pang of guilt shot through him like a physical punch to the stomach, and he took another swig of alcohol until he was rolling on the floor again, aching, head pounding, and wishing someone would just blow his brains out to make the pain stop.

And he was only stuck in that rut again Sunday. Back at his bench, trying to concentrate, only to think of last night, and he inhaled. He felt the urge to drink again, to forget about that look on her face, because goddamn, every time he thought about it, he felt terrible all over again, and went through a whole fucking hurricane of emotions. Guilt for how he'd hurt her without meaning to--because he knew he was angry when she came home. He hadn't meant to bruise her so badly, then anger because why couldn't she stop acting this way long enough to let him do what he wanted to do and like it? And then back to guilt again.

This wasn't going to work. If he stayed in the garage all day (because now was a good time to keep his distance from Morti), he was just going to go through the same emotional rampage all over again. It wouldn't do any good to stay in one spot and force himself to concentrate when it wasn't going to happen.

He pulled the portal gun from his coat pocket and set the coordinates to a place he knew would take his mind off all this goddamn bullshit. Stepping through the portal, he found himself in a place of colorful lights, blinking machines that made equally loud noises, and Ricks everywhere. He rarely visited this place, as it was more a gambling parlor than a bar, but what the hell. He'd take whatever right now.

It wasn't just a gambling ring for Ricks, as he spotted other aliens wandering around, screaming in foreign languages when they lost at slots. He probably shouldn't be squandering his money away, but he needed a really shitty habit to do today to take his mind off something. Why not a little gambling? He had plenty to lose.

He got caught up in the background almost way too soon. As he tried the slots and lost several times, not caring whether he won or not, he shrugged and moved on to something else. He spotted a table where a few Ricks were playing poker and contemplated whether or not to join them. He didn't particularly want to engage in conversation, or feel like arguing with himself over something stupid, but he wondered if that would be good for him or not.

But, in the end, he got a drink at the bar.

It was stupid honestly. He might as well have gone back to the dimension specifically designed for Ricks to get wasted, but three glasses later, there he was, downing liquid cocaine and swaying in his seat. A Rick with a stupid as fuck haircut sidled up to him at one point when he noticed he was wasted and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, hey there. Don't think I've seen you in here before." His speech was very odd as well. He didn't stutter like most Ricks and honestly, made Rick a little uncomfortable while he tried to mind his own business and drink until he puked.

He shrugged his hand off his shoulder. "D-do you m-m-mind? Kinda busy here."

"Ohh, got problems, honey?" The other Rick then pulled a chair up next to him and he felt his whole body sink. Jesus fucking Christ, he reeled back from him, giving him a glare and hoping he got the hint.

He didn't.

"L-leave me-ugh-alone."

"Ohh, someone's grumpy."

Ugh. He rolled his eyes and tried to stand from his spot, only to sway and almost topple to the floor, but the other Rick grabbed him by the arm to support him.

"Whoa, honey, you appear to be fucked up. Why don't you sit back down?"

"G-get off. D-d-don't touch me." Grabbing his drink, he glared at the other Rick again before sauntering off to the poker table. Any other time, he'd honestly probably play along and flirt back, but he just wasn't in the fucking mood today. Drinking only made him angrier, he realized, as he took another swig, and coughed. When he staggered up to the table, the Ricks who were gathered to one end stared at him for a moment before ignoring him and continuing their game.

It took him a few moments to notice there was a Morty there too. It never failed that a Rick always had his Morty with him no matter where he went. He didn't appear to be playing the game, just hovering behind his Rick and doing whatever he told him to.

Rick rolled his eyes. Sometimes Mortys were just like dogs. Always obeying whatever Rick told them to do. His Morti used to be like that. They hadn't been on an adventure in weeks, but he knew if he chose to drag her off somewhere, she wouldn't put up much of a fight.

Did he really want that though?

The more he thought on it, the more appealing it seemed honestly. Taking her away to a far-off alien planet, maybe one with a posh upscale hotel they could go to. The idea of seeing Morti in a bathrobe while she sipped on white wine and he ran his fingers through her hair. Thoughts like these always consumed him whenever he visited another planet nowadays, because all he could think about was going there with Morti, staying in a hotel with Morti, dragging Morti off to the bathroom to fuck her until she was moaning his name and pulling his hair.

But then her face covered in tears and her eyes so swollen and tired and her arms covered in bruises--because of him. He staggered against the table, deciding to move away from it. This wasn't a good place to be right now. He was only thinking about what had happened again, and whenever he did that, he took another swig of his drink. He couldn't see straight anymore, couldn't stay on his feet, had to grip something whenever he walked to avoid falling on his face--but then he saw them.

When he walked past that one Morty at the poker table hovering behind his Rick. When his Rick presented his hand and he looked so proud, Morty smiled and cheered for him. He looked so happy. When the Rick reached behind him from where he'd been sitting to grab his Morty by the chin and pull him in close and gave him a small kiss. When his Morty smiled and blushed, and pushing him away not out of disgust, but because he was embarrassed, but Rick saw the fucking look on his face. That smile. That look of happiness when his Rick had kissed him because he was so happy.

Even in his drunken state, he saw it. He fucking saw it. He saw that look on his face, the way he shyly looked to the side, his cheeks pink, the way he fidgeted with the material of his shirt whenever his Rick went back to playing poker, and he fucking hated it.

He hated it, he hated it, he fucking hated it.

Why did they get to have that? Why did that Rick get to kiss his Morty like that--and get that kind of reaction? Why did he get a soft giggle and the pink cheeks, and the cute little back and forth steps he made with his feet when he got embarrassed?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why couldn't he have that with his Morti? Why couldn't she look at him like that? Giggle at him? Play with her hair when he called her baby and act shy around him when he kissed her? Why did she have to cry when he touched her? Why couldn't he have what they had?

He broke.

Those fucking, fucking pieces of shit.

His drink clattered to the floor, breaking into pieces and he reached out for that Morty, the one who got to like it. The one who smiled at it and who looked so happy.

He wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around his throat.

Everybody at the table stopped what they were doing in an instant the moment he touched him, when he tried to wring his neck back and forth--because why did he get to be that happy? Why couldn't he get to see his Morti make faces like that? Why couldn't she be happy like that?

And he was angry. He was so fucking angry. Even the look of horror the Morty gave him as he strangled him wasn't enough to stop him. He squeezed as hard as he could, enjoying the smile from earlier disappear from his face as he choked and gurgled underneath him, as he reached up to pry his hands away, but he wouldn't let him. Because this piece of shit didn't deserve what he had. He didn't deserve to like it.

"THE FUCK!"

It felt like he'd been strangling that Morty for much longer, enjoying that look on his face for way too long, but it was only a couple of seconds before the Morty's Rick was upon him, wrestling him away, and Rick was too drunk to keep his coordination and fight back.

He stumbled back, letting go of the Morty who fell back and coughed and choked, cradling his neck. Good. He hoped he crushed his windpipe, wanted to feel his bones crack beneath his fingers--but the other Rick, the second he tripped over his feet backward--punched him square in the jaw, and he tumbled to the ground.

He was too wasted to actually feel the pain, but the force knocked him flat off his feet and he was sure he saw stars for a second. The other Rick was above him, hands balled into fists. "THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU DUMBASS MOTHERFUCKER!" He was screaming, and lifted his foot before kicking him in the stomach.

Rick choked, balling into himself to protect his stomach, but the other Rick had leaned down, and straddled him, before he nabbed his collar and punched his face again. He felt his fist make contact with his nose and blood gushed out, but he was hit again. And again, and again.

"You that hammered, huh? You take some fucked up shit, huh?" Every other word, he was delivered a punch, until he was holding up his hands to try and protect his face, but the other Rick was relentless in the way he pounded his fist into his face.

"Hey, hey, stop!" An alien, whom Rick could only assume was the bouncer, finally pulled the other Rick off him, and he was saved. He coughed up blood and leaned up, the world spinning, and felt the urge to vomit when he saw the blood gush from his nose and onto his clothes, coupled with the feeling of being drunk. Honestly, he didn't feel much pain, but the blood was making him even more dizzy than he already was.

"Time to go." The alien who broke them apart lifted down and pulled him up by his arm, not bothering to be gentle about it at all, and dragged him towards the door. "Don't care where you go, but don't come back here." Before he was tossed out of the building. He could hear the other Rick yelling swears at him as he was led from the building, but he couldn't make out anything coherent. Not that he cared.

He wasted no time in pulling out his portal gun and returning home. Enough was enough. He shouldn't have tried going somewhere else to forget about what happened, but being home wasn't going to change that either. Leaving didn't do anything. He was too hammered when he stepped onto the floor of the garage, and gripped the work bench for support.

His nose was still bleeding, and the only thing he had to stop it was his coat. He couldn't go through the house beaten up like this--even though he'd come home before worse for wear. God, he hadn't had the shit kicked out of him like that in a while. He was going to be sore tomorrow for sure.

He didn't need to look in the mirror to know he had a black eye and bruises on his face, if his bloody nose was any indication. By taking his coat off and wiping his face with it, he let the blood dribble down onto that before he applied pressure and squeezed it shut. Today was a shit day, going to be a shit day from the start, and probably continue to be a shit day into the evening. It was a bad idea going to another planet like that, but the fuck else was new?

As he stood against the work bench, applying pressure to his nose to stop the bleeding, he couldn't help but think back to that Morty. The one who looked so happy and smiled and kissed his Rick like he was just so fucking happy.

It wasn't goddamn fair.

He picked off a vial from his desk, just to drop it to the floor, purposefully breaking it. He didn't give a goddamn fuck anymore. It wasn't fucking fair. Nothing was fair, it wasn't to begin with, and it was never going to be that way. He dropped another. And another. Breaking more and more shit on his desk.

He was never going to see Morti smile at him like that Morty smiled at his Rick. He was never going to see her twiddle her hair in her fingers as she bashfully stood around him and shifted her weight from side to side. He was never going to kiss her and feel her kiss back. He was never going to get to hear her say his name and beg for more when he fucked her into the floor.

It was never going to happen.

The image of her bruised and crying while she stood up against her bedroom door flashed into his mind again, and he sank down to the floor, next to the mess he made, and he removed his coat from his face. His nose had stopped bleeding, but he was starting to feel the pain from the punches now.

He could fantasize all day long about it. He could want and want and want as much as he wanted, he could want it so bad that it killed him, but it was never going to fucking happen, was it?

Morti was never, ever going to accept him. She was never going to look at him that way, smile at him, and no matter how bad he could want it, it didn't fucking matter, did it? It didn't fucking matter.

Those other Ricks were so lucky, to have a Morty who wanted them so bad they couldn't stand it. Who begged for them and pleaded for them to be kissed and touched.

He still felt that Morty underneath him, when he crushed his windpipe, when he saw the look of horror on his face when he strangled him, when he fucking deserved it. Because all he wanted was for Morti to look at him that way.

He just wanted her to like it. Why couldn't she like it?

Leaning his back up against the wall, he sat in the silence of the garage once more, still drunk, still swaying from side to side from the effects of the alcohol, and he felt like vomiting again. He looked down at his hands, which were splotched with the blood from his nose, and he let out a loud sigh.

Why the fuck was he acting like this?

Why did it kill him so much? Why was this eating him alive to the point he was getting drunk every night thinking about her? Why did he obsess over her, because she didn't like it--and if she only liked it--he wouldn't obsess so much.

If only she liked it.

He could be nice, if he tried. He knew he was an asshole to her lately, but he wasn't always like this. She made him irrational, and he knew he let his anger control him when the situation got out of hand--but he hadn't meant for it to happen. He just needed to calm the fuck down long enough to think clearly, and then he could be gentle with her.

He wouldn't scare her, and she wouldn't have a reason to be afraid of him anymore--if he did this right. He had to pick himself back up and do this the fucking right way. There had to be something he was doing wrong--for her to reject him so badly. Maybe it really was his fault and he was just bad at this. It had been a long time since he'd--you know. Actually woo'd someone.

He stopped when he realized just what the fuck he was thinking. Wooing? Did he really want to woo his granddaughter? Fuck, he really did though. When he thought of it, he couldn't help it--he wanted it so bad. He wanted her to come to him and hold onto him and call out his name and let him kiss her--so bad.

It was killing him.

And he was just going to have to be better. No more angry outbursts. He had to be nicer to her, he had to be. Otherwise, she was just going to keep rejecting him. He had to give her some space and stay away for a while, and then he would show her he could be gentle about it. He could be...romantic? If that was the right word.

Ugh, he held his head in his hands, feeling a headache spring up. This was too much for him. Maybe a nap wouldn't be such a bad idea right now. He could sleep off his hangover, wake up, wash his clothes, shower, and start fresh.

And then he'd show her. He would prove to Morti that she was lucky to have him, and that he wasn't bad, and that he could be gentle with her.

He'd show her.

 

Chapter Text

Waking up was always a chore. Not like before when she'd been getting drugged by Rick and waking up was like having a constant fog in her mind, being in slow motion, but nowadays, it was different.

Morticia lay staring at the ceiling when she first came from sleep. A string of nightmares was always unpleasant, but nothing she could do about it except try to forget, even with the feeling of dread lingering in the pit of her stomach long after she'd lay in a daze under her covers. The ceiling was a familiar sight, one that wasn't comforting, but familiar. Everything in her room was familiar, but she couldn't say it was comforting anymore.

Waking up only gave her the feeling of wanting to immediately go back to sleep. But, she couldn't do that. It was a school day, the days slowing by at the snail's pace, until it was Thursday, and still, she woke up with the constant urge to fake sick, stay in bed, and ditch. Fuck school honestly.

Being home wasn't much better though. She always had to deal with the consequences if she decided to play sick and stay home, of what that meant. Staying in bed was ideal, maybe even comforting, but not safe.

Mom would leave, Summer would leave, and then Dad would leave. She'd be left alone with him, and that couldn't happen. The past week at home had been strange to say the least, as she was walking on eggshells around the house, looking for any excuse to hole herself up in her room, stay out of sight, and not have to interact with anyone.

But, she caught him in the kitchen one day, reaching for the cabinet like he was about to take a quick snack back to the garage with him. She definitely didn't want to make eye contact with him, or even be in the same room with him, and dropped her gaze to the floor, the mere sight of him making her feel ashamed all over again, that horrible feeling consuming her until she felt like no other feeling existed.

He bolted. Without even grabbing his snack, he left the cabinet door untouched before flinging himself around the corner and out of sight, as if he were purposefully going out of his way to avoid getting near her.

That was usually her job, though. To spot him in a room, only to turn heel and exit again. She wasn't used to this. He was the one always staring at her for way too long, creeping up on her if she decided to venture out of her room long enough to grab food, and she always ran from him. If Mom was in the next room, she could get away with running, because he wouldn't chase her. If Dad were nearby, he wouldn't do anything.

She could find a tiny sense of satisfaction knowing she was safe in that sense. Even though it didn't matter. Nowhere was safe. If he decided, he could still choose to cause a scene, even at the risk of Beth and Jerry finding him out, because he could get away with it.

She knew that.

But, there was no denying he'd been avoiding her lately. If that were even the right word for it. She'd seen him maybe twice that week, and both times, he had done what she normally did and bolted out of the room the moment she crossed the threshold.

It was odd, but she certainly wasn't going to complain about it. By all means, he should keep doing it, and stay the hell away from her for the rest of his goddamn old miserable life for all she cared. Her week hadn't been great, but it had at least been bearable since he started doing this. She was paranoid this was all part of some weird scheme of his, for him to ignore her completely only to get her guard down and then strike.

Because it was true once she realized he was going out of his way to avoid her, that she had started relaxing a bit. Once locked up in her room, she realized she wasn't as tense, that she could focus on her homework a little more, and even studied for that stupid History test she had today. Maybe she'd even pass it. It would be one good thing at least.

But, a thought crossed her mind, one that she couldn't help but hold onto hope for, no matter how many times she thought of it.

Was it possible he'd gotten bored with her?

It'd been about a month since she found out he'd been drugging her at night, and a couple weeks since he first dragged her down to the bunker and--she shivered at the thought--but maybe this was some kind of midlife crisis thing he was going through. Maybe he was an old bastard who needed a sick kick to get his thrills out, and now he was bored with it.

It was a small hope at least, one that got her up in the mornings. He was bored, he had to be. He'd had a sick thought in mind, went through with it, and now that he'd gotten what he wanted, he was done with her.

The bruises on her arm were starting to fade, she noticed that morning. All week, she'd been wearing a sweater to school, and at home, and when questioned, just answered that she was really cold lately, even though it wasn't sweltering outside, but still t-shirt weather. She had to deal with it if she didn't want to be questioned about it.

God forbid they blamed her for it. Her dad was the type of person to blame her for hurting herself and accuse her of inflicting the bruises on her for no goddamn reason. And she really didn't want to deal with that. So, sweating in a sweater was the next option. At least she wouldn't have to deal with it for much longer.

Jessica even told her she looked cute with a sweater on, but that only made her sweat more. If only it was colder out, then she would wear that damn sweater every day, but she couldn't take the heat much longer. It was fine to deal with when she was covering up the marks on her arms, because the heartache she'd get from her parents wasn't worth it at all.

She couldn't wait for it to get cold. The image of Jessica in her winter fashion, with her long button up coats, her stockings, and her high-heeled boots sent her heart racing. Even at school, she got to share something with her crush she hadn't before. Sometimes at her locker, she would find a note had been pushed inside of the cracks, just like they did in the movies, and Jessica had decorated it with little hearts. It was always something generic, like how she couldn't wait for class to be over, or she was always thinking of Morticia when she was supposed to be studying. But, no matter what it was, it sent Morticia's heart racing, and she'd write notes back, trying to think of something romantic to say as well.

She'd never gone out with anyone like this before, so it was a different experience at high school than it normally was. She got to share those knowing glances with Jessica when they passed in the hallway, hold her hand when they were alone, and sometimes Jessica even sneaked a kiss to her cheek when they passed.

It was so cheesy, but it never failed to make Morticia smile and blush every single time. She still couldn't believe she and Jessica were an actual thing now. That she was dating her crush after what felt like forever, and they got to be like this at school. It made all those boring hours she spent dozing off in class feel like they meant something, because now after the bell rang, she could see her in the hallway, steal a glance from her, and smile, knowing what they had.

Thursday was just like any other day that week. Morticia woke up, stole the bathroom before Summer could, was halfway done brushing her teeth before Summer decided to yell at her from out the door, but she didn't care so much anymore. All she could think was getting to hang out with Jessica at the lockers for a few minutes before class started that morning.

Mom tried to make her breakfast (burnt toast and eggs), and she felt like today was going to be a good day, because she didn't even see Rick that morning. He'd been avoiding her all week--and maybe the fucking bastard finally bailed. Maybe he really had gotten bored with her. Fuck, she didn't know, or care, but she could focus now. Focus on what mattered--like Jessica.

School was the same as it had ever been. The noisy hallways were a way of blending into the crowd, yet also hectic because there were so many people moving all at once, trying to get to their own place.

And there was Jessica, waiting at her locker. Morticia wasted no time in sidling up to her, blushing already, but smiling when Jessica smiled back at her.

"Still wearing that sweater? Are you really that cold natured?" She tucked her hair behind her ear and Morticia had to glance at the spot on the floor beside her when she blushed. God, Jessica was such a princess sometimes.

"Y-yeah, it's still too chilly out for m-me..."

Laughing a little, Jessica closed her locker after grabbing her books for the day and leaned against the side of the door. "So, I was thinking. If you don't have anything planned Friday, do you want to go out?"

Morticia thought her breath had left her all at once. But, she caught herself, and as always, answered way too fast. "No! I-I mean--I don't have anything planned--I-I never have plans." She smiled. "Wh-what did y-you want to do?"

Again, Jessica pulled a piece of her hair behind her ear as she spoke. "Do you want to go eat somewhere? We can meet up at my house and go from there."

Oh god. A romantic evening with Jessica--going out to eat with Jessica--holding her hand over dinner as the waiter brought them appetizers and soft music played in the background--Morticia had to lean onto the locker for support. This was all too good to be true. "I-I'd love to eat out--I mean--go eat dinner with you." Her face flushed as she fought for the right words. Even though it'd been almost a week since they were official, she still acted the same around Jessica as she did before she kissed her. She was still shy and awkward--it never failed.

Jessica smiled, before running her fingers through a small section of Morticia's hair. "Sounds good. I'll text you, okay?"

She nodded, and felt like she was floating in the moment Jessica touched her hair. She felt a shiver run down her arms and she forgot for a moment she was supposed to be heading off to class. She had a test to pass, after all, but she really needed to focus now, as she knew until tomorrow, she was going to be daydreaming about the dinner until then.

That History test was fucked, but Morticia had spent two days studying over it, not knowing why she cared so much when she felt like skipping school most of the time, but she left the class with a wave of confidence overwashing her. She knew she passed.

There was a date with Jessica to look forward to.

The best part was she didn't see Rick any that Thursday night or that Friday morning before she left for school. It was perfect. Fuck him for all she cared, now she could actually focus on school for a change, and her social life.

Mom even commented on it that morning when she handed her a plate of lumpy pancakes. "You've been in a good mood lately, has something happened?"

Morticia couldn't help but nod when she bit into those pancakes and they tasted so, so good. "I-I'm going out with Jessica tonight." The heat rose to her face all over again.

Mom sat down next to her, grabbing the syrup. "Oh, that sounds like fun!"

She was going to have to dress up for once. Not that that would be a problem, and it was even something she was looking forward to. As she ate her pancakes, she wondered if she should go back to Summer that night and get some help with her makeup. It was for a dinner date after all, so she thought now was the time to wear makeup and maybe put her hair in a bun. Or maybe a ponytail. It felt too formal to leave it down, but maybe she should. She wasn't sure what to do. Would her hair even look good tied up?

Friday was stressful, but a good kind of stressful.

She'd gotten her test back in History, to see a glorious B+ on it, something she didn't realize she could be so happy over. A test she'd kind of half-assedly studied for, but it still felt good. It was something she could be proud over. It was something she got to feel good over.

Jessica had left her a note in her locker that day, and she took it with her to lunch to read. She'd decorated it with little pink hearts she'd drawn in with a pen, and Morticia felt her heart soar. It was another generic note, about how she couldn't wait for dinner that night, and wanted to know if Morticia wanted to come back to her place afterward to watch a movie, or something.

She could feel her heart swelling at the thought. The thought of being alone with Jessica for an entire Friday evening. It was already a wonderful thought, and she couldn't wait to go to dinner with her, to see how dressed up she'd be, no doubt would look even more like a princess than she already did.

Morticia wrote her a response note at lunch before putting it into her locker. She'd tried to doodle a drawing for her, of them holding hands, but it looked horrible. She hoped Jessica wouldn't laugh at her artistic skills, but she felt the need to do something stupid like that, and she drew little hearts around them like Jessica had done. Her hearts were more balloon-looking, and she felt her face redden at the sight of them. How her handwriting itself compared to Jessica's flowery, swirly writing above Morticia's scribbly, messy handwriting.

They really were the exact opposite. She didn't know what Jessica saw in her, but it must've been something.

"Morti?"

When they met up at the lockers after school let out, she watched as Jessica tucked her hair behind her ear, a habit she was doing more and more around Morticia, and smiled at her.

She perked up at the sound of her name, clutching onto her Literature book. Now that she'd passed that one test, she had another next week she could study for, and hopefully pass now. Morticia was feeling confident, and didn't want to lose any of the streak she had right now. "Y-yeah?"

Jessica shifted from side to side, before finally speaking up. "Um, I was wondering. After we go eat tonight, did you want to spend the night at my house?"

Her knees wobbled together, and she thought she'd lost her balance for a second there. That was the last thing she expected Jessica to say to her, but also the best thing. Barely registering that she'd fallen against the lockers for support, Morticia nodded. "O-of course, yeah!" Maybe a little too loud, but she didn't care.

Jessica smiled at her, before brushing past her, and ran her nails gently along her arm as she moved. "See you tonight."

Morticia felt like her whole body had melted at that feeling. The shivers ran straight up her spine, and she stood frozen for a good few seconds, just staring at a random tile on the floor. Not only were they going to go out to a restaurant and get to eat dinner, but she'd have a sleepover too.

A sleepover? When she thought of it, she wondered if that's what she could call that. She'd had sleepovers when she was little, with some random friends in elementary school, but Morticia hadn't spent the night at someone's house in years.

It made her both excited and afraid. Of course, the first thing that popped into her head was that Jessica wanted her to spend the night so that they could fuck, because--well, Morticia liked her. She often masturbated to the thought of that--but to have it actually something plausible, to have it an option for the night, made her afraid.

The idea of being alone with Jessica in her room, seeing her in her bra and panties, both made her sweat in anticipation and grow a bundle of fear into her stomach. She fantasized so often about kissing her that way, being in bed with her and touching her, that it was ridiculous the amount of fantasy scenes she came up with in her mind for how that would play out.

But to have it happen, she was losing her mind.

Maybe it wasn't what she thought--maybe this was an innocent sleepover, and they would just sleep on the floor and do regular sleepover things.

But her face grew hot at the idea of Jessica rolling on top of her to kiss her, or begging Morticia to touch her through her panties.

She imagined Jessica gently pushing her hand through her panties and moaning her name, telling her everything was going to be alright when she touched her crotch, and Morticia would love every second of it, she'd blush and curl in at the idea of her crush touching her so tenderly.

But the thought was immediately replaced by something terrible. Large hands touching her there, a body slamming down onto hers so hard, she thought she couldn't breathe for a moment, and the smell of alcohol so prominent, she was going to throw up at the scent of it, and the overwhelming fear that choked her.

She wanted to run away, and the thought hit her so suddenly, she backed up against the lockers when she remembered Rick holding her down into the bunker and fucking her. When she had to lie there as he pushed his dick in and out of her.

When she came.

When he grabbed her arms and held onto her so hard, she had bruises that were just now fading away, when she was still wearing a sweater to hide it from everyone, and when she sat there and let him eat her out--when she gave up and didn't even try to fight him anymore.

The shame took her and she felt tears well up in her eyes when she held onto her arms. The thought was making her shiver, and she stood against the lockers, alone in the hallway for a brief moment, when she remembered what he'd done.

Sometimes she would cry about it, but maybe it really didn't matter. He'd been avoiding her lately, so that was something she could say was good. It was good he hadn't been around, because she could focus on other things.

But it never failed.

When she thought about Jessica doing stuff like that to her, her mind raced back to that moment he had her trapped in the bunker, and she always questioned why.

Maybe it was her fault--and maybe she could have done more to stop him--but maybe there was nothing she could have done. Maybe she could have called to Mom and Dad for help before he dragged her there--but they would have blamed her. Maybe she could have grabbed something in the bunker to smash against his head to knock him out so she could make her escape--but he would have come after her later.

She looked down at her hands, confused and embarrassed every time she thought about it, when it inevitably took hold of her until she got upset over it. Because now she couldn't think about Jessica the same again.

She still blushed around her--and enjoyed the times Jessica would hug her and hold her hand and kiss her on the cheek, and sometimes on the mouth, but the idea of sleeping with her.

She let out a breath.

It terrified her.

It scared her to death--because what if Jessica hurt her too? But what if this entire thing was her fault to begin with? Because, fuck, Rick was ignoring her now--he'd probably gotten bored with her, or realized she wasn't worth his time to sneak around with, and he'd gone back to fucking random aliens--but why even bother to begin with?

The idea that she'd seduced him still haunted her. That maybe she had subconsciously asked for this--but she couldn't figure out how. All she did was talk about Jessica nonstop. She made it abundantly clear she was interested in her, so why?

Why did this happen?

Why couldn't she think about Jessica the way she used to, before he did this to her, before she felt dirty all the time, and stupid, and ashamed, and fucking worthless, and like it was all her fault, because nobody would believe her if she told them? Thinking about Jessica like that only made her sad.

She couldn't even be happy that her crush wanted to spend the night with her. Maybe there really was something wrong with her.

She wiped the tears away before they could fall and leaned off the locker. Goddamn if she was going to let this ruin her evening. There was no point in thinking about bullshit like that, when it was over and done with. Jessica didn't need to know about it, and nobody else. Not Mom, or Dad, or any of them.

Tonight was going to be about her and Jessica, and she could find some small relief in that.


 

Morticia looked at herself in the mirror.

She wasn't sure what the proper thing to wear was for a night out, as she didn't even know what kind of restaurant Jessica planned to take her to, but she couldn't imagine it was anything super fancy or anything like that. Hell, they'd probably be sitting with her parents anyway, unless they decided to get a different table so she and Jessica could chat by themselves.

She ended up going for a plain black dress. There was nothing overly glamorous about it, other than the bottom frilled a little. The sleeves were short, and the neck was a V-cut which showed off her collar bones a little.

When she turned around to look over herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but feel both underdressed and overdressed. She had showered earlier, and her hair had naturally curled, so she wasn't sure what to do with it. Put it in a bun? Would that be formal? Or maybe pull it to the side and try to braid it? But that would take too long. In the end, she left it down.

Ugh, she was so bad at this, she wasn't sure what to do. She wanted to go bug Summer about her makeup again, but ended up putting it on herself, if not agonizing over the eyeliner until she smudged it about three times, but finally got a winged look she was proud of.

Another look over in the mirror and she sighed. She looked dressed up, but she wondered if she'd taken it too far. Was this okay? Or was it too much? Maybe she should have dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, but she also wanted to wear something cute to go out to dinner with. It wasn't fancy or anything, but she still felt she was doing way too much.

One glance at the clock told her she had very little time to obsess over her look though. Jumping into a pair of matching black slip-on shoes, Morticia grabbed a duffle bag where she'd packed some pajamas and stuff for a sleepover before she headed out the door. When she walked downstairs, Mom and Dad were sitting at the couch watching tv, and Mom leaned over to give her a smile.

"Oh, you look so pretty, Morticia!"

She blushed a little at the compliment, shifting her weight to support the duffle bag on her shoulder. "Th-thanks."

"Have fun, okay? Your grandpa said he'd drive you over there."

Morticia felt her insides freeze over immediately. Mom told him. Of course she fucking told him, she told him every goddamn thing. The whole week she'd been so focused on getting her schoolwork done and flirting with Jessica that she forgot when she told Mom about going out tonight that also meant Rick was going to know she was going out.

But, if he was bored with her, why the fuck would that matter?

Her gaze fell to the floor and the smile dropped from her face the instant Mom mentioned him. "U-um, I think I'll walk. I-I need the exercise."

Mom made that worried face, but she couldn't look at her. "But honey--"

She cut her off. "I-It's fine, don't worry about it. I-I can walk." She wished she could tell her to stop fucking telling him her goddamn business all the time. He didn't need to know every little thing she did. He didn't need to know about tonight, but why would he even give a fuck? The more she thought on it, the angrier it made her, until she brushed past Mom and out the front door.

Fuck them, and fuck him too. It wasn't his goddamn business. He'd been avoiding her all week, so why would he care? She was going to have a nice evening out with Jessica and get to spend the night with her like a normal ass teenaged girl for once.

It was already dark by the time she opened the front door and closed it behind her, not meaning to slam it when she did. Her duffle bag wasn't even that heavy, so she could walk a couple of blocks without getting too winded. It would've been nice if Dad had offered to give her a lift, and she regretted not asking him to, but he probably would've just told her to take Rick's offer.

She bit her lip. Like fuck she would be alone in the ship with him. For all she knew, he was planning to take her to an alien planet, or worse. She couldn't imagine what could be worse than that, but it would be better not to think about anything like that right now.

The garage was open, and the light was on. From her position at the front door, she knew he was mere feet away from her, and if she walked past the open door, he would see her, and he would stop her.

Morticia froze again, her chest constricting under the pressure from this feeling. What did she do? She wanted to run back into the house, run crying for her dad to save her, for her mom to help her, and tell her what to do, tell her to please, please help her, tell her that this wasn't her fault and it was okay to feel like this too, tell her everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

But, she couldn't.

Turning the opposite direction, Morticia walked away from her house. It was going to be super out of the way, but the plan was to head down the street and double around the corner in such a way that she passed the house without having to walk past Rick. Maybe he wouldn't notice. She could feel her heart pound against her chest with every step she took, every inch of distance she was putting between herself and the house that felt like something physically painful.

Maybe Jessica would let her stay indefinitely. Maybe they could stay awake all night and watch movies and play with each other's hair and she could kiss her without feeling guilty. Maybe Jessica would tell her she loved her and Morticia could hug onto her because she was safe. She wanted to imagine a scenario where Jessica held onto her and pet her hair, telling her it was okay and she wanted to believe that it was okay.

"Where are you going?"

The sound of his voice made her jump out of her skin and whirl around. He was standing right behind her, and she couldn't help but think he had teleported there at some point. She hadn't heard him approach, but now she stood frozen with him looking down at her with his arms crossed, with that fucking look on his face that suggested she was doing something wrong.

It was always her. She was always in the wrong. And she hated that he intimidated her and she shrank back from him, turning her gaze to the sidewalk instead of him. His stare made her feel smaller than ever and she feared he would reach out to grab her in that moment.

"I asked you a question."

Her grip tightened on the strap of her duffle bag and she could see the faint sight of the bruises on her arm now almost completely faded away. Almost gone, but still there. She inhaled. "I-I'm going to Jessica's."

"Yeah, l-like hell." But he didn't move.

Her grip tightened until she felt her palms sweating against the bag and she couldn't move either. He was going to grab her. He knew she wouldn't go into the garage willingly for him to 'drive' her to Jessica's. He knew she would try to run away.

Why the fuck did she have to tell Mom? She was so stupid. She felt her hands shaking, at being reduced to this yet again, at the hope all week she'd had that he had lost interest in her finally. That he'd finally, finally gotten bored with her and was going to throw her away like trash.

She looked back up at him, matching his expression, and glared at him. His look didn't falter, even when she gripped her bag so tight that her knuckles were white from the pressure. "I'm going to Jessica's." Fuck him. Fuck him so hard, she didn't care what he did, but she wasn't going to let him ruin tonight for her. If he wanted to bitch and moan, then fine. She was going to fight him if she had to. If he grabbed her, she'd stop him this time.

The look he gave her was incredibly sarcastic, and it made her blood boil. "Y-yeah, that's cute a-and everything y-y-you think that. What'd s-she do this time, huh? Giving you g-gifts and shit now? You sure did get dressed the fuck up, th-that's for sure. B-bet she offered you s-something reeeal nice, Morti."

Her face flushed as he started ranting at her, and she knew he was pissed off, but fuck it if she didn't give a shit right now. "Shut up, Rick." Her cheeks only reddened in embarrassment at the cheap comeback, but it was all she could muster at the moment.

"Oh, good one, Morti, y-your girlfriend t-teach you that one? B-bet she's one of th-those whose p-parents buy everything for her. Probably offered y-you money t-too. God, you know you--"

Before he could continue his godforsaken rant, Morticia turned away from him to walk off. She was done with him. She was done listening to him, done being berated by him all the fucking time. He made no goddamn sense whatsoever to her. She didn't understand why he would treat her like this, yelling at her one moment like she was an imbecile, and then--holding her down kissing her, touching her--the next.

"Hey!" When his voice broke out behind her as she turned, she half-expected it when he grabbed her arm, but it still made her jump when she turned back to face him.

"Let me go!" She tried to yank her arm from his grip, but he refused. Even in this situation, outside on the street, mere feet away from the house, he wasn't afraid to do this, and it made that pit of fear drop back into her stomach--but she couldn't.

She couldn't let him do this to her.

"I-I said you're not going to that bitch's house, Morti. A-and if you think I'm just gonna let you walk away, you--"

"Shut up!" She didn't care that the more she fought back and refused him, the angrier he was getting, the more force he was putting on his grip, and he was just adding new bruises to her arm. She didn't care. Yanking her arm a second time, she managed to wrestle herself out of his grip, dropped her duffle bag, and ran.

She ran, not caring how angry he was, not caring that he was right behind her, or how close he was. Morticia ran, because Jessica was all that mattered now. Jessica was safety. She could imagine that scenario in which Jessica played with her hair, smiling at her, running her nails down her arm, and they watched a movie together and had a fun time. She wanted to imagine what kind of dress she wore to dinner that night, while she complimented Morticia on her black dress, and told her how pretty she looked.

But Jessica was always going to be much prettier than her. She was going to have her hair done up in such a way that looked as though she hadn't done much, but there wouldn't be a hair out of place. Her lips would be pink, and her eyelashes would be long and cast shadows over her red cheeks.

Morticia wanted to kiss her and tell her how pretty she was, how pretty she always was.

She ran past the neighbor's house, past their neighbor's house, and their neighbor's, her shoes clapping onto the cement below her, and she was already out of breath, she was already winded, but she couldn't stop. If she stopped, he would catch her, because he was never going to stop.

If she reached Jessica's house, then this would stop. She would be safe. He wouldn't hurt Jessica, would he? He wouldn't do this in front of other people.

Would he?

One of his hands came out and nabbed her by the arm, and she was ripped from her sprint, so suddenly, she felt the force of it when he wrapped his whole arm around her torso and pulled her into him, and the breath was knocked from her.

He was out of breath, but still his words seeped out like poison. "G-god--goddammit, Morti, y-you're not--not going over there!" He pulled her so far up against him, she could feel his chest heaving with each breath he took against her back.

She struggled. Pushing against him, even with the breath knocked from her and feeling light-headed, she pulled away from him, trying to wriggle out from his arms and free herself. She couldn't spit out any insult at him, as she struggled to suck in air, but she felt it when he squeezed her so hard, she saw black for a few seconds in her vision.

"Goddammit, Morti, don't make me drug you." His words were quiet next to her ear, but she heard how serious he was. That he would drug her here out on the sidewalk. He was serious, and she knew he would do it. He wouldn't hesitate.

But, she pulled against him, finally finding the air that filled her lungs, and she spat back out at him, "Fucking do it, I don't care!" There was a hysterical sense in the way her words came out, and she realized she was fighting to pull him off, and with each passing second that he wasn't letting go, and the feeling of his arm wrapped around her chest was only increasing in pressure, until she was seeing specks in her vision every so often. He was suffocating her, and it was going to make her pass out.

She was fighting too hard to free herself from his grip, but it was too much. He was stronger than her, and able to hold her down like this, even though she was fighting so hard, it wasn't enough.

"God dammit." The way he spat the words out, annunciating each syllable, she knew he was pissed off. When he removed one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around her chest to keep her pulled into him, to pull out the portal gun, she panicked.

He was going to do it.

Morticia fought against him, pushing against his body and kicking at him with all the strength she had, but it wasn't enough to stop him. He opened a portal before pulling them both through and she recognized the room instantly as the bunker. There was no mistaking that sad little excuse for a mattress in the corner of the room, the colorful vials of liquid that shown iridescent light, and the green glow of the large tubes along the wall.

The portal closed, and he let her go.

She tumbled to the floor for only a moment, having lost her balance from the sudden movement, and coughed, bringing herself up on her feet again to dash toward the ladder and get the fuck out of here.

But, he was on her in a second. He grabbed both of her arms, pulling her into him once again, and she fought to catch her breath and push him off all at once, but she was wrestled to the ground, and he was on top of her. Morticia's face was pushed into the ground as he straddled himself on top of her, and pulled her arm back until it was so painful, she cried out from it. He'd pulled her arm in such a way behind her, she couldn't push herself back off the floor, and she was trapped, held down by him, overpowered, and helpless.

"D-don't you get it, Morti? It's fucking locked! Even if you climb all the way up there, it's locked!"

"Get off me!" She was going to throw up, she was going to fucking vomit this time. With him back on top of her, crushing her, she couldn't breathe, and fought to blink away the black specks that were coming to her vision again. "I can't breathe, R-Rick!" She sucked in air, but didn't feel any oxygen, and the blackness started taking her vision again. "G-get off me!" And the fact he was holding her down again only made the panic rise even more.

She was back in the bunker with him--alone with him--being held down by him, fighting to breathe and trying to push him off, only to fail. He'd taken her back here, and she could feel it. Could feel when her chest constricted and the horror took over until she felt that pit fall into her stomach, until she felt the urge to scream out for help, until she wanted to sob in frustration that she couldn't run away from him, or fight him off.

He leaned off her, and she felt the weight leave, and sucked in air once more. Beautiful air, she felt it returning to her lungs, and the blackness left her sight for only a moment, before Rick released her arm from the painful bent position he'd had her in, and rolled her over until she was on her back.

She lay breathing for a moment, catching her breath, relishing in the moment she wasn't fighting him, or being crushed under his weight--and breathed. She was aware that he had crawled back on top of her, and was in the process of straddling her once again, but she could breathe, and she had no reason to stay down on the floor.

She lifted up, almost head-butting him when she did, but he was faster than her, and grabbed onto her arms to keep her from standing to her feet. "M-Morti, fuck, I really will have t-to drug you if you d-don't keep still."

"Get off me." She wasn't paying attention to any of his bullshit, but pushed at him when he moved into her, jerking her head to the side should he decide to kiss her again. Like fuck she was going to allow that. "I-I've gotta get to Jessica's."

"Y-you still on that? Wh-what have I gotta do t-to prove to you th-that bitch is j-just playing you?"

Morticia pushed at him again when he moved back into her, and she couldn't figure out why he was so fucking determined not to let her have anything to do with Jessica when nobody else gave a single shit. "Wh-why do you even care?" He'd moved his knee in such a way that he was pushing it in between her crotch, and she could feel it when he tried to purposefully touch the spot between her panties he knew would be sensitive, but she squirmed out of his hold somewhat enough to hold her legs together, stopping him.

"You w-won't listen to me, Morti."

"Because you're just a goddamn asshole!" With a final thrash in his arms, she pushed against his chest with such force, that he was actually jerked backward until he let go of her arms, and she felt the angry tears come until she couldn't stop them. "Why can't you let me be happy with her? Do you hate me that much, Rick? Do you really hate me that much? I don't understand why you're doing this!" The sobs came out until she couldn't control them, and she wiped at her face with her arms, too ashamed to look him in the face anymore. The heat was so prominent until she felt ashamed of that too. "If you want to hurt me, that's fine, I don't care! You can hurt me, okay? If that's what you want, okay?" Her lip quivered and she couldn't control the tears that spilled as she cried and cried into him. "I don't care anymore. I've already cried about this so much--I've already t-tried so hard to figure out why, but I can't, okay? I can't fucking do this, Rick. I just want to be with Jessica."

He hadn't said a word as she ranted and sobbed into him, as she fought to keep the hysterics out of her voice, but failed.

She couldn't stop the ranting when she started, and maybe she'd gotten that from him, but she was sobbing and couldn't control herself as she sat there, wiping her face and feeling the heat all over her body as shame took hold of her in a way that made her feel small, smaller and smaller. "I don't want this. I don't understand why you're doing this." She finally pulled her hands away from her face long enough to look at him, and she couldn't even see his expression through the blurry tears. "What do y-you want from me, Rick?"

It was strange to hear the anger in his voice from earlier dissipate completely. She expected him to snap at her, call her stupid and berate her like normally, but she was taken aback by the tone in his voice that was almost--

Guilty?

"I..." He trailed off and then swallowed. "You have to understand."

"I don't understand." She wiped at her face, knowing she'd wiped off all her makeup she'd spent so long getting right that evening. It was ruined now. It was all her fault.

"Ricks fuck their Mortys all the time." His voice was slow to speak, as though he sounded unsure, but she was so tired of that excuse.

"Why do I have to be like them, though?" The sobs had stopped, and she was trying to dry her face with her arm, streaking it black from her eyeliner and mascara. Her face was probably a damn mess, but she didn't care. "Just because they want it, doesn't mean I do."

"I..." He stopped himself again, and swallowed.

But, she cut him off before he could continue. He wasn't angry right now, and even sounded like she was finally--maybe hitting a weak spot for him. Maybe he wouldn't do this. "Is that why you're doing this? Because they do it too? Because that's what they're into?"

He scoffed and looked to the side, but she saw in his expression that he was guilty. "Y-you don't get it, Morti."

"Why? What don't I get? Explain it to me, because I want to understand." She could feel the biting frustration come back to her, and felt the more she spoke the more her words were spitting out like venom. If he had a valid excuse for why he was doing it, fuck it if she wanted to hear it all. "So, why can't you get a Morty who wants this? You can travel to any dimension you want, find a Morty who's fucking insane for you and--"

"They aren't MY Morty!" And the way he cut her off so suddenly, raising his voice and creating an echo around the bunker, made her freeze, and she didn't want to risk antagonizing him and making him angry all over again. "Th-that's what you don't understand. If I go out a-and find another Morty who's fucking insane for me, you know what? It's not going to fucking matter. He could suck my cock every day until I die, but you know what? Y-you fucking know what, Morti?"

He leaned into her then, grabbing her arms, and she felt the sting from where he'd grabbed her earlier, even though he wasn't gripping her that hard, but she was frozen in his hold as he stared at her, as she felt the fear fall into the pit of her stomach the closer he moved, the lower his voice became, the more serious he was about this.

"They wouldn't be you. It wouldn't even matter if it's another Morticia--I-I don't give a fuck if she's s-so crazy for me, she comes in her pants e-every time I walk by. I-I don't care i-if there's Mortys out there--and believe me, there are--who'd drop everything at a moment's notice to fuck m-me so hard I-I'm feeling it for months. It doesn't matter, because they aren't you."

"But..." Even during his spill, she was frozen in his hold, each word more horrifying the more he spoke, the more they filled her like poison, and she was on the verge of crying again when she felt the tears fill her eyes until he was blurry before her. "I-I don't...I don't want this. I-I want to be w-with Jessica."

"Well..." He gripped her arms tighter, but not enough to cause pain. "That's too goddamn bad."

"Y-you're gonna g-get bored with me one day." His words left that awful feeling in her stomach, until she felt the shame come out as though it were displayed on her face. The tears fell, but she started rambling again. "Y-you're gonna get b-bored and go back t-to fucking aliens like y-you always have." She didn't know why she was saying all this--and maybe it was more to try and reassure herself, than it was to touch a nerve on him.

She didn't know.

"Y-you'll g-get senile or something and f-forget about me." Now her voice was growing hysteric and the tears kept falling, but there was nothing she could do to stop it as the words came tumbling out like nonsense, until she didn't know what she was saying anymore. Just words to say words, because he was touching her, and he was trying to discreetly move her back down to the floor, but she couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop rambling at him. "Y-you'll forget me and I-I'll be with Jessica a-and we-we'll get married one day. W-we'll have a house a-and a dog and i-it's going to b-be g-great a-and you'll have f-forgotten me then."

But he interjected. "What makes you think I'm going to get senile?"

She couldn't help the more she spoke the more her heart raced and the more she wanted to throw up all over the place. "Y-you th-think you can h-hide this from Mom forever?"

"Yeah. Beth will believe whatever I say." He pulled at the sleeve of her dress until her shoulder was exposed, and she panicked again, not wanting to believe him, and not able to stop the tears.

"Wh-what if she s-saw you doing this? Y-you think she'd s-still take your side?" The heat collected in her face as she thought of the idea of Mom walking in on them doing this, but she couldn't help it.

Rick frowned at her, before pulling at the helm of her dress. "You know the answer. Stop asking stupid questions, Morti."

When she felt his hands on her thigh, the cold flesh of the pads of his fingers brushing the skin there, she felt her throat tighten until she couldn't breathe again. "Y-you'll get bored, you'll f-find some a-alien to chase after a-and you'll get bored." She was stuck in the rut of talking to herself again rather than to him, but she heard him laugh when she said it. It was a small laugh through his nose, but he didn't look up at her as he continued slowly pulling her dress up until she could feel the chill in the air hit her thighs and her panties were exposed.

"I won't get bored with you, Morti."

It was like a horrible weight had fallen into her stomach, the simple response while he laughed at her--and she felt compelled to push against him again--to scream her lungs out and call for Mom to come and save her, please save her. It was horrible in that sense that he could say something so casual, with that smile on his face, while he was trying to push his fingers in between her legs that she had so tightly pressed together to keep him away--and it made her panic all over again.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't save herself. Couldn't stop him from doing this, and certainly couldn't even run away from home--something that should have been easy.

The idea of him doing this to her until she was older--following her until she moved out for college, or worse--forcing her to stay with him even when she was an adult, when her parents would inevitably pester her to get a job and find her own place--what if he stopped her? What if he never let her go, even when he'd moved past the age she could physically stop him--because he could do anything. He would just put himself in a younger body and keep doing this until she died.

His fingers had worked in between her legs, and she felt them brush against the sensitive part of her panties, and the feeling made the nausea rear up, and she really did push against him again, rambling again. "No, no, stop, fucking stop, you're gonna--you're gonna die one day, you know?"

The useless ramble actually made him stop and he laughed again. His sarcastic laughter was making the heat come to her face until she couldn't look him in the eye anymore, she was so embarrassed by what he was doing, and where he was touching. "When I die, another Rick is just going to come here, you know." There was a dark humor to his words, and she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. The way in which he said it made her shiver in fear at the idea, but he only continued working his hands in between her legs.

It was when he moved in close to her, and she felt his breath against the nape of her neck, on her bare shoulder from where he'd pulled her dress down, did she start crying again. When she felt his hands grip her thigh as he pulled her legs apart, even though she resisted, even though she was fighting so hard against him, but he broke through and she felt his hands begin to dig down into her underwear.

Morticia panicked and pushed against him. "No, no! NO! Stop!" Her breath was caught until she couldn't breathe, until she started hyperventilating in his hold, and moved away from him, until she was crying at the idea of him fucking her into the floor again.

"Hey, hey!" He'd moved away only long enough to wrap his arms around her and pull her close, where she started thrashing in his hold, trying to move out of his hold, but failing.

"LET GO!" She pulled, but he only squeezed her tighter. "MOM! MOM, HELP ME!" The words echoed around her and she knew nobody could hear her. Mom thought she was with Jessica, thought she had left the house.

They were probably upstairs asleep on the couch again.

She sobbed into his chest where he'd pulled her, even though she struggled in his hold and pushed against him--he wouldn't let her go.

She was trapped. She was trapped with him--and she knew he was going to fuck her. She knew.

He held her head onto his chest and she felt suffocated against him, even when he moved his fingers through her hair and she could hear him. "Shh. Shh." But it wasn't comforting. She was crying and nobody was going to save her, and he was going to do this over and over again and she was never going to get away from him.

Then she heard his voice right next to her ear, making her shiver even though his breath was warm. "I'll make it feel good, okay?"

She cried harder at the words, not knowing why he bothered. Knowing what he meant, but also horrified by the meaning of it, and she hiccupped on her own sobs at the misleading way that his hands felt on her back, the way he was rubbing small circles as if to comfort her, but she just felt trapped.

He pulled away and his eyes were lidded when he looked at her, when he gave her a small smile. "I-it's gonna be good, okay, Morti?"

She could only stare horrified at him when he started working his hands back down to her panties, and she went to pull at the sleeve of his coat, to make him stop. "N-no, i-if you're going to do this, th-then drug me." The heat coated her cheeks again. "I don't want to be awake anymore. I know I said not to do it, b-but--"

"I'm not drugging you."

So, his threats before were just useless to force her into submission? His quick response made her freeze up for a second, before he placed a hand under her thigh and he made a movement for her to pull up.

"Come on. Sit on grandpa's lap."

The words burned into her like a pit of fire burning her and her whole face turned red. She couldn't look him in the face anymore, and the more he moved his hands closer to her butt, the more she felt compelled to crawl into his lap to make him stop touching her there. It wasn't any worse than anywhere else he'd touched, but the lewd way he was doing it was so fucking--she couldn't look at him.

He moved to accommodate her when she climbed into his lap, until she was straddling him, and had to look to the side when she knew he was staring at her. It never failed to make her feel less than dirt when he did, but here he was--and here she was. Her legs were spread on him and she knew that's what he wanted, but she didn't know how much more energy she had to fight back anymore.

It would just end with her losing. He would win every time, and he knew he would.

"You really do look beautiful tonight."

She didn't respond. Didn't want to. Whatever he was trying to accomplish by saying this to her, she had no idea, but the words made her nauseated until she wanted to throw up all over him. It'd take that smug look off his face for sure, but she just sat there, avoiding his gaze and trying not to focus too hard on the fact she could feel him growing hard under her.

There was no way out of this, she knew. Even after all her crying before and hysterics, he was still doing this, still playing with the fabric of her dress and riding it up over her thighs to expose her panties where he pulled at the fabric there, teasing as he fingered the lace on the edge.

"Honestly, black looks good on you. You should wear it more often. I bet you'd look good in red underwear too."

His words were making her sick, but she couldn't do anything. She was already spent from crying, and she had no energy left to fight him. She'd begged him to drug her and he refused, she'd pushed against him trying to fight him off and she couldn't do it.

This was all her fault.

She couldn't help it when he pulled at the edge of her panties again, working his fingers inside, and she felt him brush against her clit, that she started crying again.

"Hey, hey." His voice was low, and almost soft, but she couldn't find comfort in it. Not when she started squirming as he touched her, as he moved his fingers back and forth against her, and he was already overstimulating her, until she wriggled uncomfortably. "It's going to be okay, Morti." When he spoke, he wrapped his arm around her back, and pulled her into him, but he didn't squeeze like before. She felt as he hugged onto her and his breath came out against the edge of her shoulder, up against her neck, and she felt as those uncomfortable moans bubbled from her throat.

He was disgusting.

And she was disgusting.

This was all her fault. She sat in his lap, straddling him as he fingered her, and all she could do was cry. No matter how much she pleaded, or begged him, he wouldn't stop. This was never going to stop, and she started shaking in his arms when she could feel her orgasm start to build.

"Stop." Her voice was so pathetic, even as she spoke against him, her head rested right into the front of his shoulder. "Please...stop."

He only shushed her, as though she were being unreasonable, and he didn't stop. He touched her gently, breathing into her neck, and she felt his mouth against her when he kissed her there, and the feeling made her shrink into herself. Why did he have to do this?

She closed her eyes, trying not to think about it, but it was impossible. He was still touching her and she could feel her orgasm start to peak, and this was supposed to be her and Jessica doing this. They were supposed to be having dinner now, and then going back to the house for a sleepover and maybe Jessica would ask if she could touch her, but maybe she wouldn't, but Morticia would let her, even though it was scary.

She cried because she couldn't even think of her crush that way anymore.

It was bad.

This was bad.

He was bad.

She cried into his shoulder, letting the tears take over and she couldn't control the sobs when she started shaking.

He was hard under her, and she felt him grind against her through his pants, and the feeling alone was making her sick, but what the fuck could she do about it? There was no fighting him. There was no pleading with him, trying to reason with him, trying to talk him out of it by offering another reasonable solution.

It was going to happen.

He was going to do this over and over, until Morticia couldn't do it anymore.

She lay limp in his arms, letting him rub against her with his fingers, until that feeling started to become so strong, she was squirming in his hold when she felt it--almost there. He was never going to let her go see Jessica ever again--and she may as well text her afterward to let her know she couldn't hang out anymore.

Her face was so wet from crying, but she lay against him with no energy when he kissed the side of her neck again--and she felt it. The familiar feeling when orgasm took hold of her and she came. When she spasmed against him and he hugged onto her to keep her in place, and he moaned into her when she couldn't swallow the moans of pleasure that she choked out.

"Y-yeah, baby, th-that's it." She felt when he kissed the side of her neck again as she came down from the high of orgasm, when she fell limp in his hold. She couldn't feel anything in that one small moment. Couldn't hear his words, couldn't focus on his fingers that slowly started preparing her when he pulled them in and out, right before he unzipped his pants.

She choked on her sobs.

Morticia couldn't cry anymore.

Because it was going to happen, regardless. He was going to keep taking her down here however many times he wanted and he would keep doing this. She had tried to fight him, only to get overpowered, she tried to plead with him, beg with him, only for him to ignore her.

She started shaking when he pulled himself from his pants and she felt the tip of him move in between her legs. Her breathing increased, when she felt him, when he grinded between her legs and the heat collected all at once to her face. It was so disgusting.

"Move with me, Morti." His hands were at her panties again, and he pulled them down, and she was forced to lean off him where he yanked them down to her knees, before working them off past her ankles, her feet, and tossed them to the side.

She sank back down into his lap, hating that she had to grip his shoulders for support to keep herself balanced, hating that her face was so red from this humiliation, that she had to do this, and she couldn't look at him. Couldn't look when she was back in his lap, and felt him.

It scared her. When she felt the tip of him right between her, she felt it. She felt it--and choked on her sobs. It was going to be just like last time, and it was going to be painful.

He seemed to understand this, and she felt his hand come to the side of her face when she started silently sobbing to herself again. "Shh, shh, come on--I promise it won't hurt, okay? Y-you hear me?"

She could only nod as a response, even as she closed her eyes and waited. Waited for him to go in and for it to hurt--just like last time. She felt no comfort when he gripped one of her arms to hold her still, when he moved in to kiss the top of her shoulder and the edge of her neck again--she sucked in a gasp when he moved into her, way too slowly, and couldn't help the hiss of pain she made.

The moment she made the noise, he was there, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him--even though she felt suffocated by that motion and couldn't breathe, she couldn't stop him from going inside of her, from doing this to her.

Morticia had no more energy left to cry. It was probably her fault anyway. This was all because of her.

There was never going to be a happy ending with her and Jessica. She was never going to hear Jessica say she loved her. She was never going to live a normal life knowing this wasn't her fault--knowing she could grow up with her crush and live a stupid suburban normal life. Just like everybody else. She just wanted to be like everybody else.

Not here.

Not with him.

He was always going to be here, invading her like a disease, haunting her dreams at night and taking every thought she ever imagined of having.

He was going to be here to remind her it wasn't normal.

This wasn't okay.

He pulled out of her, and she hissed at the feeling, not so much the pain, but of him. Because he was doing this to her, and she was letting it happen.

Morticia was so tired.

He kissed her face then, and she recoiled at the feeling, but couldn't push away.

It was going to happen whether she liked it or not--why bother fighting?

She had to hold onto his sleeve when he moved, when he pulled out and pulled back in, and she was forced to move with him, and the shame felt like it was all over her body. There was no getting away from this feeling, this feeling that everything was wrong. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. Nothing was okay.

Mom wouldn't believe her. Dad didn't care. Nobody was going to save her.

He was always going to be here.

He was always going to be here.

She felt her throat tightened at the thought that he was always going to be here. He would never stop touching her, and there was no way out. Nobody would save her.

There was no future with Jessica.

There was no stupid house with a dog or a white fence surrounding a green yard. There was no scent of daisies in the air when she walked out the front door in the morning and came home in the evening. There was no happiness in this thought. Because it didn't exist.

There was only Rick.

And he was here. He was here and he was moving her up and down in his lap as he fucked her. As he reminded her over and over what was reality. He'd been trying to tell her the future with Jessica was futile, and she refused to listen to him--but he was right.

He was always right.

She lay against him as he moved in and out of her, moaning her name and pulling her close to him. She could feel the desperation in his movements, how much faster he was getting as he moved in and out--and she felt her body fall into him as she let him do this. When he moved and she bounced, she reached up to grip onto his coat from behind and held onto him.

It wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"O-oh god, M-Morti..." His voice was low and raspy right next to her ear, but she tried to drown him out, but she couldn't stand it when he reached down and started rubbing her in time with his thrusts.

She wished he wouldn't do this--wouldn't try to make it feel good. She wished he would just get it over with, stop bothering with her, and just do it. Why did he have to bother with this? But she could already feel it, when he touched her to the rhythm of his movements, and she swallowed a moan to the feeling.

It felt good. That was the scary part about it. That he could make this feel good, because she didn't want it. If he had to do this, why couldn't he just do it and get it over with? She wished he would drug her like before so at least she wouldn't have to be awake for this.

But, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

As he rubbed against her, she felt herself moving with him, hating it, fucking hating that she was moving with him, because he had to touch her, he had to make this feel good, and god fucking damn, it did feel good. She squeezed the back of his coat in her hands and slammed her eyes shut, not wanting to watch as she moved up and down with him, wanting it more. Used to the feeling of him inside of her, but it wasn't painful anymore, because he was making it feel good. He shouldn't have been making it good.

A sob caught in her throat, and she almost choked when she felt orgasm peak again that night. It wasn't supposed to feel good. She hated him for it, hated that he was making her feel this way, making her confused when she so clearly did not want this, but her body betrayed her, and she found herself moving with him, wanting to orgasm so bad, it was killing her.

He pulled her close, squeezing her a little too tight, but it was okay. She didn't care if he suffocated her to death at this point. If he decided he grew bored with her one day and disposed of her, that was okay too. It'd be better than this.

Better than knowing he had made her want this.

Morticia couldn't hold back anymore and came, squeezing the fabric of his coat in between her fingers so tight, she could feel her nails digging into her skin from underneath it, and she refused to call his name. He felt it. She knew he felt it.

He only hugged her tighter when she did, and she could feel it when he came inside of her, not shy about hiding his moans at all. Pulling one hand away from her thigh, he instead held onto the back of her head that was still nestled into his shoulder, and he held onto her.

"G-god, Morti. Fuck."

The haze never lasted long enough for her to realize just what she'd done, and she felt guilty she had allowed herself to get caught up like that, that she had moved with him, and she sat in his lap, feeling ashamed of herself. Why couldn't she stop herself from coming around him? She knew he felt it. He was just going to brag about it later. The thought alone was enough to make the heat rise to her face again, but fuck it if there wasn't a goddamn thing she could do.

When he pulled out, the sound it made was so sickening, Morticia thought she was going to gag and throw up on him, but she swallowed it. It was disgusting, but that meant she was disgusting too.

She was fucking disgusting. And the feeling of him all over her now only made her want to shower this disgusting feeling off her.

He sat there for way too long, just holding her, and she pulled away from him, leaning her head away from his shoulder to say something. "U-um. I-I need t-to shower." She couldn't look at him. Didn't want to look at him. The feeling between her legs was wet and gross, and it was all she could think about was showering it the fuck off.

"You dropped your bag on the sidewalk, right? I-I'll go get it."

"Huh?" After he'd released her from the hug, he gently sat her down to the floor before standing up straight and zipping his pants.

He looked at her like it was obvious. "Beth thinks y-you're spending the night with Jessica and since that ain't happening, you're spending the night in here."

It was said so matter-of-factly that Morticia felt her face fall when he looked at her expectantly, as if to say of course she would be staying here. "I-I need to shower though."

"There's a s-shower. It's small, but it'll get the job done." Producing the portal gun from his pocket, he typed in the coordinates before aiming at the nearby wall and opening a portal.

"I-I have to text Jessica and tell her--"

"No, you don't." He cut her off before she could even finish, but she wasn't going to let him walk through that fucking portal without having her say.

"Yes, I am!" And she glared at him when she stood to her feet, shaky, but standing, and he glared back down at her as she straightened up. "I need to tell her I c-can't make it tonight."

"Pretty sure she's already figured that out."

"Th-then let me at least apologize to her." Her face reddened again at the thought of it. The thought she was forced to stand her up, after all the planning they'd done, and the evening that was supposed to happen. But now. "Just let me apologize, that's all I want, okay?"

He rolled his eyes, "Ugh, fine, whatever," before stepping through the portal. Only a few seconds had passed before he returned, tossing her duffle bag at her. "There's your stuff. S-shower's over there." He pointed off to the right side of the room before holding out his hand. "Text wh-what you need then give me your phone."

She frowned at him. "No."

"Then I'll just take the phone now." He began to dig in her duffle bag, tossing out her spare bra and panties she had packed, and Morticia raced to his side, tugging at his arm.

"O-okay! Stop messing up my clothes, jeez." After digging around in the bag, Morticia produced her phone, and upon unlocking the screen, felt her entire insides freeze when she saw she had several texts from Jessica, including five missed calls and a voicemail.

The texts were all frantic sounding, most along the lines of 'where are you?' 'you okay?' 'sorry, we have to leave now, hope you're okay', but she couldn't even listen to the voicemail, not with Rick standing there waiting for her to send the text so he could confiscate her phone.

She wanted to send her a whole wall of text, create a lie for why she would possibly miss such an important night like this, tell her she was sorry, it was all out of her control, and she hoped she didn't put her out by having this happen. Morticia wanted to ask her to please forgive her, she would make it up to her, but.

She couldn't.

She did as she said she would, texting back 'i'm sorry' before locking the phone and handing it off to Rick who still held his hand out expectantly. Great. Now Jessica probably thinks she was breaking up with her or something, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Grabbing her pajamas, shampoo and soap from her bag, she headed into the bunker's cramped shower and worked on washing all the filth off her. There was hardly any room to move around, so she didn't spend long staying in the hot water, but she did take great care in washing between her legs, getting the cum off her, and scrubbing her skin until she felt like all of him was off her.

She supposed he expected her to sleep on that crappy looking mattress that was thrown on the floor. He probably crashed in here some nights, she had no doubt, but there was nothing she could do. He'd locked her in here, and Mom thought she was gone off to Jessica's. Plus, he'd taken her phone. There was no calling for help down here.

She emerged from the tiny shower in her pajamas and spotted Rick a couple feet away, spreading a blanket across the mattress. It looked like he'd brought two pillows as well. She froze for a moment. Why two pillows?

Walking closer to him, she fumbled for a moment over her words, twiddling her fingers and trying to breach the topic without sounding awkward. "U-um..." But it was no use. No matter how she phrased it, it was going to sound bad. "W-why'd you bring two pillows?"

"Duh. I'm sleeping here too."

That's what she was afraid of. It was one thing of him to sit there and touch her all over, but she expected him to at least want to go back to the comfort of his own bedroom or something. She expected to be left down here by herself all night.

But with him.

She nervously twiddled her fingers again, wringing the fabric of her pajamas as she stood next to her duffle bag and watched as he pulled the blanket back for her to come and lie down.

She fumbled again over her words. "Th-there's another m-mattress, r-r-right...?"

The tone in his voice was every bit of exasperated when he spoke. "Oh my god, Morti. After what we just did, y-you're gonna freak out over this?"

Her face gushed red and she turned to look at the floor, at her open bag that still sat open with the clothes she had packed. "I-I..." But she couldn't even respond.

He let out a loud sigh. "Goddamn, why are you such a-a little bitch about the dumbest shit, I swear t-to god, just come here, okay?" He sat down on the mattress and patted the spot next to him for her to come and sit down, but she froze.

Was she really going to do this? Her gaze fell to the side when she thought of it, noting how she would much rather sleep on the floor on the other side of the room, but she knew he wouldn't let her get away with that.

There was nothing she could do. He would just force her anyway.

Morticia started shaking, swallowing when the humiliation overtook her and she crossed the space between them, slowly making her way over to the mattress next to him. He let out another sigh when she stopped by his side and moved over enough to let her sink down to the mattress and get underneath the blanket. It was an old ratty mattress, and who knew where the fuck he got it from, but she tried to make the best of it and curled underneath the blanket, folding in on herself in a fetal position.

He climbed in next to her and she felt her skin crawl at the feeling of him moving underneath the blanket to lie next to her.

If only he'd just gone back to the house. Gone back to his room. Left her here alone. She would have preferred being alone in here than being--like this with him.

When he placed his arm around her waist, she let out a gasp, and almost moved away, if it weren't for the fact he'd moved himself right behind her, and she froze at the feeling of him against her. "Shh. It's okay." His words were always misleading, and she felt it in the way he pulled her into him, when he wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her tight.

She was, in every sense of the word, trapped. Held against him underneath the blanket while he got comfortable behind her, and she tensed in his hold. He couldn't be planning anything else, could he? Was he leading her into a false sense of security to fuck her into the mattress again? She had no doubt he would fuck her all night long if he wanted--if he really wanted.

"Relax, I'm not gonna do anything."

She didn't believe him. Had no reason to believe him. In this position, she was frozen up against him as he settled down and finally got comfortable behind her. If he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted to. She knew that and he knew that.

There was no safe. There was no comfort, and there certainly was no escaping. There was no point in fighting him off when he would just force her back down here, probably get angry enough to actually hurt her this time, and she didn't want that. She had no more energy to fight.

But, as she lay there, accepting the fact that he wasn't moving, or going to stop touching her, even in a moment like this, she could see it when the tears blurred her vision and she silently cried again.

Because he was never going to stop.

She'd been ripped away from her evening that was supposed to be spent with Jessica so cruelly, even as she fought him and screamed and pleaded--and he still won. He was still here. She was still here, in his arms, as he started to fall asleep behind her.

It was becoming apparent that she was never going to get away from him. No matter what she said, how violently she opposed him, if she punched and kicked until he was fighting her back--he would still win. It was hopeless. Nobody was going to believe her if she told them what happened, if she went for help.

Because he was never going to stop.

As she lay silently crying to herself, she let sleep take her. It was the only place she could get any release from him anymore, the times when she wasn't having nightmares anyway. That was the only place he couldn't touch her. She could sleep all day, and as long as he didn't plague her nightmares, Morticia could be happy for a little bit.

She could dream about the future where she had a nice house in a suburban neighborhood with a dog. A future where she could live happily with Jessica, where she had a normal relationship, and everything was okay.

A future without him.

Chapter Text

Waking up shouldn't have felt this bad. Waking up used to be a peaceful thing, a weird thing, and sometimes an annoyance. But never bad. Never this bad.

The first thing she became aware of was how cold it was, despite being tucked under the covers as tightly as she could. She was curled up in the same position she'd been in when she fell asleep, and probably hadn't moved since, but she didn't know.

There was confusion at first, because she didn't recognize her bedroom ceiling. The worn-out paint job always tipped her off that yeah, she was in her shitty old bedroom. Nothing out of the ordinary at least.

But, she realized way too late why it was bad, why she felt so bad when she woke up that day, and she was disgusted with herself for not realizing the instant she woke up--that his arm was wrapped around her, he had worked his hand up under her night shirt at some point while she was sleeping, and she could feel the bare cold flesh of his arm that was draped over her.

It made her sick. Morticia panicked at first, her instinct being to wrench herself from it, to run and get as far away from him as she physically could, but she paused. Freaking out and moving too suddenly would wake him up, and she could tell by the steady breathing behind her, that tickled her hairs because she could feel it, that he was still asleep. His arm, while very, very obviously slumped over her waist, was limp against her.

She shivered when the thoughts came rushing back, when she thought about last night, and had to fight the urge to start crying. It would just wake him up, any sudden movements she made would wake him up, and she didn't want that.

While she had the opportunity at least, she wanted to move out from under him, because if she stayed any longer in this position, highly aware of how he was pressed up against her from behind, she might throw up. The feeling of nausea was prominent, after all.

Still, she fought the urge to cry, to let her emotions work her into a frenzy, and she moved. As slowly and steadily as she could, Morticia eased herself out from under Rick's arm, not sure if she had breathed at all during the whole thing. She wasn't sure if he was a light sleeper or not, but she didn't want to take any chances.

It was a slow, agonizing process, being too afraid to breathe, being too afraid to move, but forcing herself to anyway because she was disgusted by this contact, and also having the urge to fling herself from the mattress and run away screaming for help. As much as she really wanted to do the latter, she also knew how that situation would end up.

She didn't want to put herself through that. Hadn't she been through enough already? Last night left her emotionally and physically exhausted, until just waking up made her tired all over again. There was a lack of energy Morticia had never experienced before, and it was all too noticeable that morning as she tried to sneak her way out of the mattress.

His arm fell limp in her spot as she eased herself away, afraid even by moving the mattress, he would sense how her body was no longer there and wake up enraged. Whatever mood he decided to be in today was a mystery. He could wake up pissed off and start fighting her again, or he could wake up slightly less pissed off and argue with her.

Either way, she didn't want to be next to him when he woke up. She knew the bunker was locked, and had no way of escaping by her own means. That is, unless she stole the portal gun from him right now and jumped through a random portal. But, she had little to no experience with that goddamn thing and if she did that, she had no idea where it would take her. With her luck, she'd open it in the middle of space and suffocate to death.

As she slowly stood away from the mattress, relieved that he wasn't touching her anymore, Morticia found herself complacent with that thought actually. Suffocating in space couldn't be any worse than this. It was immediately replaced by the thought of how scary that would be too, but it was a thought nonetheless.

She stood to her feet, feeling as though the entire ordeal had taken her hours to complete, and yet she stumbled away from the mattress as though it had shocked her. Just the sight of him sleeping gave her a great sense of unease, and she found herself hugging onto her arms to revel in her own warmth, away from him. Even asleep, he looked intimidating and the simple sight of him there, vulnerable before her, mouth hanging open as he breathed steadily gave her the sense he would jump from the floor any moment and start yelling at her.

She looked away from him, not sure what to do. Now that she was away from him, she figured it would give her some sense of relief, but it didn't. Just because he wasn't touching her didn't make her feel any less naked in that moment. As she stood huddled into herself in the bunker, focusing her gaze instead on her duffle bag that lay next to her feet, she still felt like he was watching her. Even in sleep, even in this state before her, she felt like she'd already lost in a way. Just being this nervous upon waking and getting away from his touch wasn't enough. Morticia was still in the room with him, still trapped.

Just because she was out of his hold for now didn't mean shit.

Standing in the same spot for a few minutes, she contemplated what to do. She wanted to shower again, because she felt dirty, but feared the sound of the rushing water would wake him up and he'd just drag her out. It was stupid, but she didn't want to change her clothes without a shower first, and she stood frozen in the same spot, hugging her arms and arguing with herself back and forth over what to do.

In the moments she was standing around, basically waiting for him to wake up and await whatever the fuck happened, she heard a small buzzing noise. It came straight from him, or rather his clothes.

It took her way too long to realize it was her phone.

He had taken it from her last night, and pocketed it. Someone was texting her, and she knew he was going to feel the vibration at some point and it would rouse him from sleep. Morticia tried to breathe and think rationally. It was probably Jessica, and even though Rick made a huge goddamn deal about her not seeing her crush anymore, Morticia found herself taking a step toward his sleeping form.

This might be her chance to get her phone back. She could text Jessica and start forming her apology and trying to make up for what happened. She could listen to that voicemail Jessica had left for her, and finally reply properly to her texts.

Morticia swallowed, her chest constricting when she heard the buzz again and Rick mumbled in his sleep, but didn't move. She stood frozen for a few more moments, dying to see what the texts said, dying to text Jessica back and start repairing whatever damage had been done, but she was paralyzed by fear as well. If she was going to go digging for her phone, that meant she had to peel back the blanket and--touch him.

This was never going to work. She felt stupid having even thought of the idea, but she wanted her phone back. He had no right to take it from her like he did. And her parents were going to notice eventually if she didn't have a phone on her. She could tell the truth and say Rick had taken it, but the inevitable thought that he would deny this and Beth would believe him made her swallow and pause.

It would be her fault. Rick would deny taking it, of course, and Mom would believe him. She'd blame Morticia for being irresponsible and they'd probably tell her she didn't need a phone to begin with and punish her for it. It was unavoidable, any way she looked at it. She couldn't blame him, because Mom would just take his side, and Dad probably didn't care either way.

It was either risk it now and try grabbing it from his pocket, or be punished for it. Morticia was at a loss for what to do. It was Saturday, and she didn't want to go all weekend without replying to Jessica. The last text she'd sent her last night sounded like a breakup, and she wished she could have said something more.

She swallowed again.

Rick hadn't moved, even after her phone buzzed twice on him, and she inched her way closer to his side of the mattress, being careful of the sounds her bare feet made against the floor. Being quiet wasn't the issue though. She was going to have to pull the blanket back enough to reach his pocket, and if the feeling of the loss of that didn't wake him up, then the feeling of her rummaging around in his clothes certainly would.

Morticia stopped herself as she stood hovering above him. His back was to her and she stood frozen as she looked down at him. A rare thing to see her grandpa with his guard down like this, vulnerable before her.

But, she knew it was a lie.

Being as quiet as she was able, not even breathing, Morticia crouched down onto her knees and reached out to grab the blanket, but found herself frozen again. It was so stupid, that a simple thing like this would affect her in such a way, but she was about to cry again.

She didn't want to touch him. Her fear of reaching out to even touch his clothes made a terrible feeling rear deep, deep into her stomach, until she felt it physically. It made her throat tighten, and her palms sweaty as she sat frozen with her arm outstretched toward him.

Even this. He was asleep, his back to her, and she still was this scared of him. Of the idea of having to be the one to do this, even though she wanted her phone, she felt trapped. When before she would reach for her phone no questions asked, because that was hers, goddammit, and he had no right to take it from her. She would have sworn at him and yelled, screaming and throwing a fit about it, if it escalated to that point, but even so, she would let him know he was out of line.

But she couldn't.

After knowing what he was capable of, what he might do to her if he caught her trying to steal her phone back, it was enough to render her frozen with fear, enough to cause a choked gasp to escape, that she hadn't meant. Was trying to steal her phone back just to text Jessica really worth it? She had to weigh her options. If she got her phone back, she could text her girlfriend and let her know she would make it up to her, but if Rick caught her--

The images of him holding her down and fucking her while she begged and pleaded--while he kissed her as she pushed against him and he was suffocating--he was suffocating--

Jessica was her priority. Whatever Rick did to her if he caught her, Morticia couldn't afford to worry about it when all she could think of was what would happen if she couldn't talk to Jessica.

She found her breath, trying to compose the shakiness of her hands as she slowly gripped the blanket and pulled back. He didn't move, and she could hear the deep sounds his breath made as he still lay asleep before her.

His torso was exposed and she noted how he'd slept in his clothes, and it made her sick. Though, he could have been wearing anything and it would make her sick. That wasn't important. When she pulled back the blanket enough to see his pants, she could see her phone sticking out of one of his pants pockets. It was so close, and yet she knew if she fucked this up, what the consequences would be.

But honestly.

Wouldn't it just happen anyway?

The thought made her wonder even if he caught her, if that would just be something he'd do anyway. So, there was nothing to lose. Morticia had nothing to lose by doing this.

That was enough drive to keep her going and she gripped the edge of her phone as gently as she could. This was nerve wracking, but the thoughts of Jessica kept her going. She pulled, holding her breath, trying to be quiet, quiet as she could. She tried not to focus on how close she was to him, how this action of stealing her phone required her to be so close, she could almost feel every little move he made.

Her phone was free. She'd done it. Morticia held it close to her chest and immediately stood up and shrank away from him. If she got emotional now and made noise, that would definitely wake him up. She forced herself to be silent as she edged to a corner of the room away from him and sat on her knees again, finally able to light up the screen and she saw the texts she'd missed from Jessica.

It didn't sound like she was upset from last night, but the texts were definitely in a frantic tone, ranging from 'are you okay?' to 'text me if you can, i'm getting a little worried about you.'

She wasted no time in pulling up the reply box and typing out her long-winded apology. She had to lie about what happened, but all in all, she tried to make a fast, yet believable excuse, while trying not to rouse suspicion. Her text was super long in the end, and she'd made up some bullshit story about how she'd gotten super sick right before and was in a fever haze all night, but that she would definitely make it up to Jessica and she was so sorry that this happened.

It was stupid. But it was all she could think of. Not bothering to check what was practically a novel at this point, she sent the huge wall of text to Jessica and sat waiting, hoping she would respond soon and everything would be okay.

It was only about five minutes before Jessica responded, and Morticia felt her heart melt in relief at the simple response.

'No problem! I hope ur okay tho, i was really worried about u. how are you feeling today?'

She clung to her phone, about to sob over the fact that not only had Jessica believed her stupid ass story, but was also willing to forgive her for standing her up. She opened the text box to respond, but froze when she heard Rick mumble from behind her. Turning, she felt as though her blood froze over when she saw him working his way into a sitting position and wiping his face from sleep.

The moment of panic took her and she whirled around to face him, hiding the phone behind her back, hoping he hadn't seen her texting, but knowing she was also caught. She had no pockets to hide the phone in and her only hope was the duffle bag--which currently was out of her reach. If she dove for it just to hide the phone, he would definitely see.

It took him a few moments to wake up, but once he did, he noticed her sitting across the room from him, her arms awkwardly perched behind her back. His voice was raspy from sleep when he spoke. "Hey..."

Morticia didn't respond. Didn't want to. It was a simple greeting on his part, but it made her whole stomach churn at the idea of engaging in normal conversation with him. She didn't want any part of this to become normal. Even if it meant ignoring him when he spoke to her, she refused--fucking refused to talk to him as though nothing was wrong.

She must have been glaring at him without realizing, because he gave her a hard stare before pushing the blanket off himself. "Wh-why are you all the way over there, huh?" His voice had shifted tones until it sounded accusatory, and she instinctively flinched at it, looking away from him. It never failed that he could sound so different so quickly. One moment he was saying gentle things to her, really horrible things, and the next he sounded like any other grandpa scolding his granddaughter for doing something wrong.

It was too fucked up for her to think about right now.

But the way she looked right now, hunched onto her knees in that weird position, her arms held behind her to hide the phone--she looked every bit as guilty as the tone in his voice accused her of. He had her caught, and she knew nothing she did in this moment would matter. She may as well hold out her hands and give him back the phone and take whatever consequences there were.

But, she just couldn't do that. Fuck him, fuck him so hard, she didn't care what happened to him, he could go out in space and suffocate for all she cared. He was going to have to pry the phone from her goddamn hands--and she would fight him the whole way. She couldn't back down and even though she was scared earlier, for some reason having him awake now, the threat of him looming straight in her face--staring at her, accusing her--she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her giving up like this. She just couldn't do it.

So, she glared at him, purposefully this time, and said nothing.

He noticed, and she watched him rise from the mattress and tower over her, already getting pissed off, she knew. He glared back, though in a more sarcastic way. "Th-there a reason you're a-all the way in the corner like that? W-with your hands behind your back? S-something you wanna tell me? G-got something on y-your mind, Morti?"

He was doing this on purpose, she knew. She always knew he couldn't resist the urge to argue with her when the chance came up. It was almost like he enjoyed yelling at her and berating her whenever he could.

But, he let out a loud sigh, and rolled his eyes. She expected him to go further with this, to have it develop into a screaming match, maybe even something physical, but he just crossed his arms and held out his hand. "I-I don't h-have time to deal w-with this right now. Give me the stupid phone already."

She froze, but didn't answer. He was going to make her be the one to do this, to give up the phone, but she didn't move. Fuck him. Fuck. Him. She didn't care anymore. If she had to waste her energy today fighting off her insane perverted grandpa, then so be it.

"S-so how far down d-did you reach into my pants for that?"

That sentence alone made her face heat up at the blatant accusation, and she had to look away from him. But she didn't answer. He was just trying to get to her, he was just being a dick--she knew that.

"Oh geez, Morti, you're turning s-super red. Did you fondle me in my sleep or something? B-bet y-you took the phone as an excuse n-not to have to admit y-you probably l-liked seeing me asleep a-and put your hand in my pants or something. Like what you saw? N-not that I'm complaining, j-just wished you'd w-woken me up before you s-started so early."

Holy fuck, she could feel the heat coming off her face, because he wasn't stopping. It was a terrible thing to say, especially with that stupid fucking smirk on his face the whole time he spoke, but she looked up at him only in horror as he continued.

"Y-you into sleeping people or s-something? Th-that get you off? God, Morti, I-I had no idea you were th-this much of a c-closet perv. I-I mean I'm flattered you'd want to touch me in my sleep, believe me, I get it, but come on, baby, w-wouldn't you rather g-grab my crotch while I'm--"

She couldn't listen to this anymore. Even though her voice was small and she squeaked out her sentence it was still heard. "I didn't..." She couldn't look at him anymore, couldn't look at that stupid condescending smirk on his face. "D-do you really think I'd--" She swallowed, cutting herself off.

He wasn't letting up, even as she sat defeated before him. He'd already won, what the fuck was he trying to prove by prodding her even more about this? "Riiight. Your face says it all. So, how'd you get the phone then? Explain it to me."

Morticia couldn't answer, still facing away from him and refusing to listen to any of this.

"I-if you want me that bad, I-I can b-become available today. Wh-whatever you want, you can shove both hands down my pants if you want. What else you do, huh? Come on, Morti, give me details, how far down did you go? You were certainly stealthy about it, that's for sure. Embarrassed you'd get caught fondling your grandpa? D-didn't want to wake me?"

"Stop..." There was no way her face could get anymore red, but she stood from her spot in that moment, no longer concerned with hiding the phone behind her back, and held it at her side, still refusing to look at him. "Y-you know goddamn well I didn't--I didn't do any of that, Rick."

"Uhhh, I was asleep. For all I know you--you woke up early just to catch a glimpse of me like that. You were acting sooo pissed off earlier, but you act all embarrassed once I mention it. I bet it's because you couldn't finish what you started, right?" It was then that he took a step closer, and she flinched back out of reflex, her gaze forced from the random spot on the floor back up to him, at his smirking face. When he took another step, his hands reached up to the front of his pants, and he made a motion like he was about to pull down his zipper. "I-I won't complain if you want to have at it, Morti."

She held up the phone for him, her focus not able to tear itself from the place where he had his hands. Any moment now, he would start up with this again, and the thought alone was enough to put her back into that state.

"T-take the phone, o-okay?" She was shaking so bad, she almost dropped the phone as she held it out for him, not able to look at his face anymore. Her gaze was back to the floor.

The thoughts from earlier where she was so adamant about fighting him--he could crush her resolve just like that. His words only left a terrible feeling that seeped itself into her--that she had seduced him just like she always blamed herself for doing, because why else would he do this? It was her fault.

If she hadn't stolen the phone from him, he wouldn't spit out those awful accusations at her. This was her fault. This was all her fault.

"Aww, c-come on, Morti, d-don't be like that. Just because I called you out, y-you're gonna get all mopey about it?"

"I didn't fucking touch you." Her arm was still outstretched, still waiting for him to take the phone away from her and be done with this, end this stupid game he'd started--or maybe she started. Morticia didn't fucking know anymore.

"W-well now y-you've got me excited about the idea."

It was repulsive that he could toss around this much attitude with her after waking up, immediately start up this again after waking up. Wasn't last night enough for him? But, his words, although some type of initiation, felt like a threat. Like a demand.

She could only look at him in horror at what he was telling her. Holding out the phone like she was, her arms shaking, not able to break the horrible eye contact with him, Morticia tried to swallow what felt like a large lump in her throat. "I-I'm not..." She wasn't doing that. No fucking way was he actually expecting her to touch him--but the look he gave her.

It made her panic. That look on his face--the same look she saw last night before he fucked her and said horrible things to her--she pulled back on the phone and held it close to her chest. It terrified her. He was sick, he was fucking sick.

She wanted to call Mom and beg her to come save her. Stop him from doing what he was about to do, and she had the means. Her phone was right there. She could call her mother right now and scream at her, beg her to stop him so Morticia would be safe. She could beg with her mother that this wasn't her fault. Don't say it was her fault.

It was because she wanted to apologize to Jessica. She wouldn't have gone anywhere near him otherwise. It was because she needed her phone.

She had caved in on herself, clutching the phone close to her chest and squeezing it so hard, she wouldn't have been surprised if the damn thing broke in her hands.

And then--Rick's voice. After letting out a long drawn out sigh, he spoke. "Y-you're s-so fucking impossible to please, Morti. Y-you're gonna work me up like this and th-then m-make me b-beg you for it?"

She wasn't making him do a goddamn thing.

He continued. "I-I can just t-take the fucking phone, y-you know. N-no doubt you been texting y-your girlfriend begging her to take you back? Sh-she's gonna be done with you in a week."

At the mention of Jessica, Morticia perked up, and instinctively rose to her defense. "No, she's not! Jessica's nice and understanding."

"A-and what's she gonna say when she finds out you touched your grandpa while he was asleep?"

Morticia froze, her entire being drowned in horror.

He took another step forward, and Morticia flinched backward, expecting him to stop in her face and berate her again, but he was angry. "I-I'm sick of you kissing that bitch's ass, Morti. Y-you won't understand no matter how many times I-I tell you, so if I-I have to text her myself and tell her all the shit you've been doing, h-how do you think she's going to react?"

He wouldn't.

He couldn't be serious, could he?

Morticia froze, because of all the times she had assumed he was joking, or just being an asshole, and yet she took another step back. What did he mean all the shit she'd been doing? He'd been doing this--

She was the one who had to take back the phone while he was asleep. She was the one who did that. She had seduced him.

It was her fault. He wouldn't be doing this if not for her. He wouldn't be saying these terrible things to her if it wasn't for her.

Rick didn't let up, and she could hear how pissed off he was, working himself up as he continued talking, his voice getting louder with each word. "I-I can take the phone, Morti, you know damn well I can, and I-I will. I-I'll tell your little girlfriend all about us. I-I'll pretend I'm you, too. I'll text her all the fucking shit we've been doing for a while. I-I'll tell her you ditched last night to be with me."

Her chest tightened, and it felt like someone was constricting her, until she felt tears well up in her eyes. The only response she could give him was a pathetic, "Don't..." but it was so quiet. There was no doubt in her mind he would follow up with this--and she couldn't deal with that.

They would believe him too. Word would get out--and it'd be all her fault. Jessica would be disgusted with her. She wouldn't want to see her ever again--if he made it out like this was her doing.

She clutched the phone, trying not to let the tears fall, but she was already emotionally compromised. There was no going back, or running away. She couldn't magically make all this disappear--even though she wanted to.

He was sick.

And she was sick.

He had won a long time ago, but that wasn't fucking good enough for him, was it?

She couldn't help but look up at him again, when he'd started to calm down and wasn't glaring at her so hard anymore, and she knew what was going to happen. No matter what he did, what she did, what was said, or how many times she ran away, this was going to happen.

There wasn't a goddamn thing Morticia could do about it.

Except nod in acceptance to herself. If she didn't do this, he would make out like this was all her fault--even though it was--this was her fault--it was her fucking fault, she made him do this--but she couldn't bear the thought of her crush knowing that. She didn't want her thinking of her that way. It was too much, Morticia couldn't handle it.

"C-come on, Morti. Don't make that face."

It never failed, and she could feel the routine slowly sinking in. This is how it was always going to happen, wasn't it? She would work up the courage to fight him, hell bent determined that he wasn't going to push her around anymore--and the moment she did, he would take it away from her. He was going to remind her over and over again what was happening, and he wouldn't let her run away.

He was always going to be here to remind her what reality was.

"Come on. Sit down with me, Morti." He was on the mattress, having sank down and stared up at her expectantly.

He was going to make her do this, walk toward him, as though it had been her doing. He was going to make her do this, because it was her fault.

Maybe she deserved it, though. After all--she had seduced him.

Morticia slowly walked close to him, not wanting to look. Not wanting to watch how disgusting she was as she did this.

When she sank down into the spot next to him, she felt cold when he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her so close, she was pressed up against him until it made her feel suffocated. He grabbed onto her hand, and she flinched at the sudden movement, but he only took the phone from her and placed it down onto the floor in front of them.

The feeling of him so close against her made her body shake at the horrible feeling, one she was fighting so hard to get away from, just to have it ripped away. She'd just gotten away, yet here she was, right back with him.

"What's th-the matter, you cold or something?"

She couldn't tell if his question was sarcastic or not, but she shook her head nonetheless, refusing to look up at him. Once again, he grabbed onto her hand, although more gently this time, and she cringed at the feeling as he wove his fingers in between hers. It was sickening, and she shook even more at the feeling.

"D-damn, you are cold."

Her heart was pounding a million miles a minute, so hard she felt as though she were going to vomit her guts out. The feeling of him doing something so simple as holding her hand like this--it made her break out in a cold sweat, and she felt warm despite what he'd said.

No amount of thinking any different would save her from this. There was no point in thinking she could be saved from this anymore. Even though Morticia so desperately wanted to be saved--wanted Mom to find out and put a stop to it, she knew the result would never work out in her favor.

They would always believe him, and he would always win.

She wanted to ask him why, every time he did this, and maybe it was her fault, and in some kind of messed up way, she could accept that it was her fault if that was the truth. If it was true and she was the reason for this happening, Morticia could blame herself and deal with it. It was easier than thinking otherwise.

It was easier than thinking that her grandpa was a fucking pervert who had been looking at her this way for too long, without her knowing. It was easier to think she was to blame than to think of the possibility he was doing this for reasons other than some physical, sexual kick in his free time.

She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about a make-believe scene in which she broke down crying to Mom, telling her all the horrible things Rick had done to her over the past month, and the look on Mom's face when she questioned her about it--when she would inevitably tell her that couldn't be true, and Morticia was at fault for this. Somehow, someway, she was responsible. How dare she make up lies about her perfect father.

Even as Rick led her hand close to him, to his zipper, and she felt the cold metallic of it against her fingertips, she caught her breath until she was choking on it. Wanted to choke and stop breathing, even when she felt her heart pound so hard in her chest that it was painful for her. Morticia swallowed, trying to focus on anything, anything other than this.

When he took his opposite hand and she heard the noise of him unbuttoning his pants, and he pulled the zipper down, it was the loudest sound she'd ever heard. Amongst the bubbling giant test tubes drilled into the walls that churned with anonymous liquids and concoctions, it was still so loud right next to her. The only sound she was aware of, and she smelled the metal around her.

He was warm, but she was shaking in his hold, the cold sweat forming at her forehead making her shake even harder at the feelings that were overwhelming her, the thoughts of her mother blaming her for this plaguing her mind until it was as though her brain were screaming at her.

But he was just breathing. Rick breathed hard when he took her hand, and pressed it against him. He didn't wear underwear and maybe it was on purpose, just for this occasion, maybe he'd even planned this out. She didn't know anymore.

That terrible feeling against her hand, when she felt him, and it made her panic all over again until she wanted to cry to him, beg him please don't make her do this, please just let her out of the bunker where she would go back to her bedroom and spend a normal ass Saturday locked up inside of her room away from the rest of the family. She wanted to plead with him not to make her do this, but she could blame herself too.

After all, she wasn't fighting him. Because he was going to tell Jessica this whole affair was her idea if she didn't do this.

And the sound he made when he pressed her hand up against him, until she could feel him, the fucking sound he made. Breathy, raspy, he leaned into the side of her until he had buried his face right into her hair, mumbling her name over and over.

Just this. Even this. She had only just touched him, with his hand guiding her, and he was having this much of a reaction.

It was her fault. Morticia kept her eyes closed, the heat from the shame of it displayed on her face and she knew he probably noticed, might have even called attention to it just to humiliate her even further. She didn't want to watch herself do this.

The least he could do was grant her that luxury.

Even though it didn't matter. It really didn't fucking matter in the end, did it?

No matter what Morticia did, how hard she fought against him, how much she defied him and rejected him until she had expelled every inch of energy in pushing him away--he would win. He could say anything--fucking anything to her, and she would lose. It's just how it was.

It's how it was always going to be.

So when he guided her hand over him, making her pump him up and down as he breathed nonsensical things into her ear, she didn't fight him. Maybe she could have. Maybe she could have kicked and screamed, pushed him and screamed so loud that she grew hoarse from it, and fought until she passed out, but if he said he would expose her to Jessica, then she had no choice but to believe him.

When he moaned next to her as she pumped, Morticia opened her eyes, the tears she'd been fighting so hard not to let out finally spilling down her face as she felt the shame take over her entire body. This was a terrible feeling, and not just by what he was doing.

But still, she looked away, not wanting to see this. She'd stopped shaking, stopping feeling like maybe there was still a way out of this. Maybe if she just accepted this was all her doing in the first place, maybe it would become easier to deal with.

Because if she obsessed over the thoughts of him having fantasies of her before, of him doing this until they both died, of him having more feelings for her than he let on, then it was simple. She could say he hated her, hated her so much that this was why he wanted this.

Because if she thought that he was doing this because of some feeling, a feeling like maybe he liked her. Maybe he liked her too much, then Morticia would go insane. That was fucked up, that was way too fucked up, and she couldn't accept that. No matter what happened, Morticia would never let it come to that. She would never say this happened because Rick secretly liked her.

It was easier just to admit to herself she had fucked up. As she sat there pumping him and he said terrible things next to her, words that seeped inside of her like poison as he whispered, "Yeah, baby, you're doing so good for grandpa," then it was easy to dodge what was happening.

Morticia was just a terrible person.

Morticia was the one who had seduced him, maybe on accident, but maybe of her own accord. But this was her fault.

This was her fault. Morticia was being punished for something that she'd done, and these were the consequences. So, she had no right to complain, or think of wanting to be saved.

Rick hated her, he hated her so much that this was why this was happening. This was why he was moaning next to her as he let go of her hand and she continued to pump his cock, as he twitched next to her and she felt every--single--tremble he made. Heard every vibration in his throat as he mumbled her name and called her baby--felt every drop of sweat that fell from her forehead as she blamed herself for this.

She couldn't help it. Without even meaning to, Morticia heard the words, "I-I'm sorry..." escape from her own mouth. It was a subconscious decision, but it came out.

He held her tight when he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her so close, she was suffocated against him, when he started thrusting up into her hand and she felt every bit of it. "I-it's okay, sweetie."

She wanted to be comforted, even if it had to come from him. Morticia needed something, anything, even if she didn't deserve it. Even if it was from him, she would take this over his yelling, over the violence. It didn't even matter.

He grunted next to her, moaning when he came and she felt it gush all over her hands, and she flinched back in instinctual horror. There was no fixing that. It was just the way she was. Despite jerking backward at the feeling of his cum all over her hand, he pulled her into him by tightening his arm around her torso, and Morticia was trapped, frozen in his hold as he dug his face straight into the crook of her neck and she shivered when she felt the warmth of his mouth make contact with her neck.

That had to be it. He couldn't possibly want more from her. Although if he did, there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. But, she was tired. Morticia wanted to leave this dingy dark place and go outside again. She was hungry, wanted breakfast, and she still needed to start her homework for next week.

Maybe...text Jessica?

But, the idea of that, even though she'd fought so hard for it before made it feel like a brick dropped straight into her stomach. If she talked to Jessica, made plans with Jessica, Rick would just stop her. He made it abundantly clear he didn't like her going out with her, even though Morticia had been talking about her for so long--and she couldn't figure out why now all of a sudden he was getting his ass in a wad over her crush when she'd been doing this for so long. It was because he hated her, but he'd always hated her, right?

Things were different because of her. Morticia was an awful person.

If she kept things up with Jessica, Rick was only going to continue to be violent with her, drag her off to the bunker like he had last night, until she was kicking and crying, and honestly?

There wasn't a goddamn thing she could do about it.

As he lay breathing next to her, kissing her neck after he'd just come into her hands, Morticia could feel her throat tighten at what exactly she was thinking. Because this wasn't fair to Jessica. If Morticia wanted to keep the relationship going and only continued to have to sneak out to see her, jump through hoops just to be with her, and constantly make excuses for why she couldn't hang out because Rick was a jealous asshole, then that wasn't fair to Jessica. No, no, he wasn't jealous, because why would he be jealous? He was just...telling her the truth. Morticia only just recently started listening to what exactly he was saying.

Her heart ached in her chest when she realized this. That this was ending exactly as Rick had said it would. Jessica would be done with her in a week. But, that was Morticia's fault. It was her fault she couldn't keep that relationship going. It was all her fault.

She looked over at the phone on the floor where Rick had placed it before starting this--no, before Morticia started this. It hadn't buzzed since Jessica texted her last, as the ball was in her court now for a reply.

But she turned her gaze away from the phone as Rick continued kissing her neck and whispering horrible things in her ear. If she didn't end things with Jessica, Rick might stoop low enough to hurt her, and Morticia couldn't bear the idea of Jessica getting hurt at her expense.

The safest thing would be to break up. Jessica could blame her, she would prefer it if she did, honestly. If she told her she was leading her on the whole time, that was okay too. If she wanted to get angry, spit at her, yell at her, that was fine.

She knew she wouldn't. Jessica would be too nice to her. It was going to be hard, it was going to be one of the hardest things she had to do, but she couldn't be selfish about this. It was for the best, and maybe she deserved it after all.

But, first thing's first, she felt disgusting again, and maybe even deserved to feel disgusting, when Rick finally leaned away from her, and her instincts took over again and she pushed against him, horrified because she forgot that his cum was all over her hand. She needed to shower it off. She had to shower him off. "I--um--" Her words were failing on her, but she really, really didn't want him to keep going and god forbid--do that with her. Even though there was nothing she could do, she found herself stalling for time and tried to think of some excuse to get away from him for now. "I-I need to shower."

He titled his head to the side and gave her a hard stare, again, the one that looked so accusing. "You showered last night."

"I-I need to get the g-grime and o-oil off me, y-y-you know." She tried to play it nonchalant, but it failed, and it showed as she felt her face get hot and was, no doubt, red again.

He didn't have to let her up. He could have just pushed her down into the mattress and fucked her all day long if he wanted. If he wanted--he could keep her down here as long as he wanted. Days, maybe even get away with weeks. The thought alone made her insides freeze over. Rick could basically do whatever in the fuck he wanted, and there wasn't a goddamn thing she could do to protest.

Morticia kept talking, the nerves now driving her fear of being kept down here longer than necessary, and her words spilled out unnaturally and she could hear the uncertainty in her own tone. "B-besides, I'm hungry a-and I need t-to study for my test th-this week a-and M-Mom's probably g-going to be expecting me to be home a-any time and--"

But, he cut her off. "Fine." It was strange to hear him sound disappointed for once instead of angry. He didn't raise his voice, or berate her like normal, or even glare at her. It was just fine.

Before she could take any longer to be baffled at his response, he stood up and away from the mattress, straightening his clothes out before zipping up his pants. She watched him head towards the ladder where the entrance of the bunker sat hovering above them and he punched some numbers into a keypad that rested against the wall. In the next instant, the door above them clicked and he turned back to her before speaking.

"Y-you should, um, get dressed or something." It was an odd, slightly awkward thing to say before he climbed the ladder and soon disappeared from her view.

Morticia was alone.

Still seated on the mattress, she finally took a breath she felt she had been refusing herself the entire time she'd been down here, and her throat felt sore from the feeling of it. She could hear the distinct sounds of the random bubbling around her, smell the metallic rust from the walls, and even the lumpy mattress below her felt hard on her underside, when she didn't notice it before.

Standing from her spot, she was about to head straight for the opposite end of the wall to the little door where the small bathroom was, but stopped herself when she forgot her phone was on the floor and she almost stepped on it. She bent over to pick it up and never in her life had Morticia wanted to bring up Jessica's text and talk to her, soak up some comfort from the words Jessica would no doubt send her. Even if it was something stupid and meaningless, she would find something normal and menial in the task and could take her mind off of things, but--

She stopped herself.

That wasn't an option anymore. It hurt, it hurt a lot, so much that she felt it stricken her chest and choke her again, but she couldn't do this to her crush anymore. If she texted Jessica, and tried to forget what happened, if she even thought of having something normal with her again, she would just have those dreams stomped on. Rick would take it away from her all over again. It wasn't fair to her, or to Jessica, but she couldn't answer her back, even as the text asking if she felt better still hovered on the screen.

No.

She let out a breath as she tried to compose herself and not cry again. Crying would do her absolutely no good, but what she could do in the meantime was go shower. She was still dirty. Still had his cum on her hand, and she wanted to get it off. Wanted to wash away the guilt that lingered in the back of her mind that she deserved this and this was all her fault and maybe she was getting what she deserved for being an awful person.

Morticia dropped her phone into the duffle bag before grabbing her clothes and heading off to the bathroom to shower. She knew what she had to do, and this weekend was going to fucking suck because of it.


 

Darkness had fallen sometime that evening, but Morticia was determined to get her homework done. It had taken her too long to realize she was reading her textbook in the dark, long after the sun had gone down, and she had to reach over to the nightstand and turn on the lamp to avoid straining her eyes. She was surprised she never needed glasses, as much as she put stress on her eyes this way and would often watch tv in the dark as well.

The looming black of the night sky only made her sleepy, as she found herself reading the same sentences over and over, and had to put her book down and rub at her face. Maybe if she went and washed her face, she could take a break for a little bit then start fresh. Morticia didn't normally spend her weekends studying, but now was as good a time as any.

As soon as she placed her book down and moved to stand from her desk, she heard the doorknob of her bedroom door opening and turned to see Dad poking his head through.

She wished he would knock sometimes, but he gave her a gentle smile before he spoke. "Hey, kiddo, I'm going to go get some fast food. You want a cheeseburger?"

She nodded, but stopped him before he could dip his head back out the door. "Hey, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Um..." She trailed off, but only for a moment to look back at her textbook displayed before her. "When y-you get home, w-will you help me with my homework?"

"Homework on a Saturday? What's up with that? Normally you're watching scary movies and eating ice cream or..." He rolled his eyes then. "Going on 'adventures' with your grandpa."

At the mention of Rick, Morticia froze up a little, but shook the thought from her head. It was incredibly hard to focus today, and that was one of the reasons she was asking her dad for help. If she focused on school, that might take her mind off of things, but it was hard as fuck to do with so many thoughts swarming in her head all at once. "I-I've got a test coming up th-this week, I w-wanted to study."

"That's proactive of you, honey, but you probably want Rick to help you if it's studying you're after. He's all smart and stuff." He said the last part somewhat dryly, but Morticia shook her head, maybe a little too vigorously.

"I-it's Literature class, he wouldn't have any interest in it. I-I'm having a hard time understanding what some of it means." It was a fast, sloppy excuse, but one she knew would work on her dad. "I-I mean, if you have time, later, w-will you read with me?" It would be a distraction at least. A nice distraction from everything.

To her surprise, Dad gave her a smile and shrugged. "Well sure, honey, if you want. I'd be glad to help you."

It was dumb to want to look forward to that, reading with her dad, but she honestly wasn't sure what else to do right now. Studying had been an awful decision from the start, and the more she read those boring contrived sentences over and over, the more it made her brain go to mush, and the less she understood, and the more stupid she felt. At least with Dad reading with her, he might could offer more insight on it. Or be just as confused as she was.

But, whatever.

After she was left alone in her room again, Morticia went to stand up and make her way to the bathroom, because she could always shower again that day, but stopped when she noticed her phone sitting on the desk beside her books.

Jessica hadn't texted her all day, but Morticia hadn't replied to her either. She'd asked her if she was okay earlier that morning, but she never replied to her. It felt kind of--wrong, in a sense. As if she were leading her on. She knew she'd lied about being sick in the first place to cover her ass about last night, but.

Now she knew what was going to happen Monday after going to school, and it just made her depressed every time she thought about it. About how she was going to have to walk up to Jessica at the lockers, because she wanted to do this face-to-face, and tell her this was over.

It tore her heart to pieces whenever she thought of it, but there wasn't anything else Morticia could do. This was going to be one long ass weekend, and she felt guilty no matter what she did. If she engaged in conversation with Jessica, she would just lose her nerve for what was to come later. It was for the best. Jessica didn't need to put up with her bullshit and honestly, even if she asked her to come hang out, it's not like Rick was going to let her.

She sighed. No matter how she looked at it, there was really no hope for the situation. All she could hope was that Jessica would be understanding. Acting like everything was normal, even though Morticia wanted so bad to text her and talk to her again, would only make it more painful in the end.

This was all she could do.

Morticia decided she may as well shower again. It wouldn't hurt, though she was probably just confusing her body the more she washed, but she didn't care. Coming out of the shower with her skin splotched red because she'd gotten the water too hot again was the least of her worries.

By the time she made it out of the shower, Dad had come back home with the fast food. He brought a bag upstairs with him as he pushed open her door again and smiled at her, waving the bags in the air.

Normally they didn't eat dinner at the table on weekends, even though Mom didn't really approve of her and her sister going to their rooms to eat, but every once in a while, was okay. And if Dad was here to help her study, she didn't care either. He settled down onto her bed and she pulled the textbook next to him while picking at her fries. When he had the book propped up in his lap, he started reading out loud to her, and he even did silly voices for the dialogue, making her giggle.

He used to read to her like this when she was really little and was still entertained by things like that. Sometimes Dad would read her the bedtime story, or Mom would, but she was never as good at the silly voices like Dad.

But still, the fact he was trying made her laugh, even though the story in her textbook was about some serious shit and the questions in the back were asking about symbolism and stuff like that (stuff she didn't understand), but she ended up getting into it, now that the words were being read to her like this.

After a while of reading, Dad let out a sigh and pulled back from the book, blinking a couple times. "Boy, I can't believe they make you kids read this stuff and expect you to understand it."

"S-so, you get the story?" She perked up, ready to hear what he had to say.

He shrugged. "I'm a little lost. All I got is some lady spent her life's savings buying a plastic necklace, I think? But uhhh..." He trailed off.

"Sh-she was trying to pay back the one her friend lent her though, r-right? She got her a diamond necklace, but it turned out the one she'd broken was fake."

Jerry narrowed his eyes as he stared at the words on the page, as though that would bring forth some type of revelation. "Whatever you say, kiddo. Sounds like you got it. What are they even testing you for with these things anyway?"

As he placed the book back in her lap, Morticia stared at the drawing that was pasted into the book next to the short story. She always thought it was a pretty drawing. "Th-they're probably g-going to ask what the overlining message was."

Jerry shrugged, before standing from her bed and grabbing the empty bags that once held their hamburgers. He gave her a quick thumbs up and a smile. "You'll pass then. You're smart."

The compliment made her blush. She wasn't used to be called smart, but this was Jerry after all. He was only saying dad things to be a dad. But, it was still a nice change of pace from the usual lectures she'd get from Rick about what a dumbass and a fuckup she was, especially while out on adventures.

He hadn't taken her out to space since she found him out. Not that she was complaining, but she couldn't help but wonder sometimes if he did those as a distraction. It didn't make any sense, but it wasn't like she had the right to dwell on it.

"Thanks, Dad." Honestly, if her mind wasn't being consumed with the inevitable conversation she was going to have to have with Jessica on Monday, she could have understood that story by herself. But, there was also something comforting about having her dad come in here and read to her and do the silly voices like she was a little girl again.

It was nice.

"No prob, kiddo." He gave her another smile before exiting her room and Morticia was left alone again.

Packing her books away, Morticia stood from the bed and walked over to her bedroom door, turning the lock, like she always did before going to sleep at night. It wouldn't make a difference, but it had become a habit and there was no point in stopping now. After locking her door, she always made sure to dress quickly in her pajamas.

Sometimes she would dress in the bathroom after showering, but seeing as she'd showered earlier, there was no use going back there. Being naked even in her own room while changing clothes for a brief moment gave her a terrible sense of unease. She always felt like she was being watched, even with the curtains drawn or the door locked tight, it never failed.

He would just use a portal to enter her room if he wanted. It wasn't like he gave a shit about her privacy anymore. He'd probably make fun of her for still wearing sports bras sometimes, or polka dotted underwear that she could still fit in from middle school.

Even in the shower, the place she'd started visiting more and more to clean the sludge off her was starting to become suffocating. The tiled walls weren't safe. No place was safe. Through the steam in the shower as she stayed in for way too long and used up all the hot water, he could still be watching her. Morticia couldn't stand to be naked anymore, not even in private. If there was such a thing as privacy anymore.

She was in her nightgown, not wasting a second to dress before climbing into bed. Nothing would feel better than to curl up under the covers and hide herself. Sometimes she wished that things worked out like they did when she was little. Like when she was scared of the monsters under the bed, all she had to do was pull up the covers and she was safe. No scary monsters in the closet or under the bed could find her then.

Even now, it was an instinct and she pulled her blanket up to her chin, feeling cold. Staring up at the dark ceiling was something she felt she did a lot now, but she eventually did fall asleep.

And then woke up to the feeling of hands in her hair.

The feeling was unmistakable, and Morticia shot out of bed, heart racing and fear gripping her in that way too familiar way when she broke out in a cold sweat. She'd felt him. She felt his hands on her, touching her in her sleep, and he was going to do it, he had used the portal and he was coming back to do this again--

But she was alone.

In her dark room, all alone, the only sounds she could hear were that of her own breathing as she struggled to inhale. The air felt strangled going in and out, but she could have sworn she felt his hands on her, and maybe it had all been a horrible vivid dream. But, she was starting to wonder if the things she saw in her dreams were actually happening or not.

This wasn't the first time she dreamt of him sneaking into her room to do terrible things to her. Just last week she dreamt he had climbed on top of her and choked her until she almost died, but she woke up in a cold sweat from that too. It took way too long for her to calm down and realize it was just a dream and she was, in fact, alone in her room.

It was hard to convince herself it was real. After sitting up in her bed, catching her breath and heaving in gulps of air like she was starved for oxygen, Morticia closed her eyes and put her face in her hands. She wanted to cry again. Why did he get to invade her sleep like this? Why was he there every single goddamn second of her life to do this to her? Even in sleep, she saw him. She saw him when he crossed the room, yelling at her, pushing her down to the floor and sometimes choking her into submission, or scratching his nails down her body until she bled, and sometimes he was just sitting there.

Just sitting there staring at her.

It was difficult to calm herself down after waking up from these nightmares and realizing he wasn't actually in the room with her. When she was so sure she felt him, felt his hands pulling at the roots of her hair and touching her, he was always touching her, he would always touch her.

Morticia let a sob escape, but quickly swallowed it. There was no use in crying every time this happened. She wondered if she'd ever get a good night's sleep again, if she'd ever have nice dreams again, because she was so tired of this. She was so tired of him doing this to her. She was so tired of being scared in her own house and her own room and feeling like he was constantly watching her even when he wasn't there.

She clutched her pillow and hugged onto it. It was soft, if not a little lumpy, but she wanted any kind of comfort she could give herself now. Even if it was from this.

Sometimes she had fantasies about running away. Maybe to another planet. That way he wouldn't find her, but she knew he would. She wished he would get bored with her already and move on to something else to occupy his time with--but his words from last night echoed in the back of her mind. When he said he'd never get bored with her. No matter what alternatives she offered him, how much she begged or pleaded, or gathered her courage to fight him, he would win.

So, honestly, what was the goddamn point?

When she'd calmed down a considerable amount, Morticia was able to lean back into the bed and curl up under the covers. The house was eerily quiet at night, which made her overly aware of the small sounds. A creak of the floorboard could be him. The sound of soft footsteps outside the hallway as someone went to the bathroom could be him. Or it could be nothing. All in her head, her mind playing tricks on her because it was the middle of the night. Maybe he'd decided to leave her alone.

The thoughts buzzed in her head like someone was screaming them directly into her ear. She couldn't get any rest. She couldn't sleep. Not after being so sure he was touching her again, but she had calmed down. It was okay, even though it wasn't okay and she knew it would never be okay.

But, she drifted off to sleep at some point anyway.

At least the weekend was almost over, even though she was dreading Monday morning, but the more it lingered in the back of her mind, reminding her over and over again what she was going to have to do, and how often she rehearsed the conversation in her mind, at least then it would be done with.

At least that would be one thing off her mind.

Chapter Text

God, was she beautiful. Even when she did the most menial task, such as reaching up on the tips of her toes to open the cabinet that was too high for her to grab a bag of cookies, she was beautiful. When she entered the kitchen only to see him, because he ate too, you know, and he would notice that little quake her body made--every time she did this, and he couldn't help thinking how cute it was.

It was odd to think he had started to think of her in terms like 'cute' and 'beautiful', but he'd always thought of her that way, maybe. Words like that were harder to say out loud, especially to her, especially coming from his own mouth, but to himself, he could spew the most embarrassing shit.

He often thought about Morti in general. Just in general. The little things like how curly her hair had gotten lately, and how he wanted to brush it for her, run his fingers through and feel the silky texture of it. He'd notice stupid things that didn't matter, like how the shirt she was wearing that day was wrinkled, and it didn't flatter her figure at all. Morti wasn't a curvy person by any means, as she was only fourteen, but he could still see the baby fat in her cheeks that hadn't gone away just yet. She probably wouldn't start getting curves until she hit sixteen or so.

He often thought about what she was wearing that day and how cute she looked. Because Morti was in a weird phase where she wanted to be both a tomboy and a girly girl, but couldn't quite make up her mind. During the day, she might wear baggy clothes and jeans, but he could sometimes sneak a glance at her night in those frilly pajama gowns as she walked around the house. Either style suited her, but he didn't really care what she wore. Morti could make anything look cute.

And then he would fantasize about her in black see-through panties and black stockings. It would still look good on her, and she would still be beautiful. That got him hard and sweaty sometimes, when his thoughts wandered from what could be considered innocent, to--that.

There might have been a time in the distant past when he denied to himself that he started having sexual fantasies about her. Because, that was gross, right?

He could remember the first time he laid eyes on her, he wasn't impressed one goddamn bit. And probably would've even stooped to have called her boring. She was a plain-looking teenager, all awkward with her stutter and constantly whining about how she was too dumb to pass simple high school algebra (something he'd rolled his eyes at so hard he was surprised they didn't fall from his head), and her gushing about random crushes made him want to puke his guts all over the place.

Maybe it was because he was frustrated with her that he started taking it out on her, berating her while out on adventures, calling her names and even making her cry sometimes, but he never really gave a shit. She was only there to serve as temporarily relief from day to day monotony and he didn't really give a damn about anything else.

Her problems were so trivial, he couldn't even begin to fathom how she'd survived this long, being this oblivious. There were more important things in life to worry about, but she was a teenager, and the most important thing to her was that her social life would be ruined if some dude found out she had a period. She frustrated him to no end.

There was no reason for it, and he couldn't explain to himself why, because he struggled with it for way too long, even frustrating himself that maybe he was too stupid to figure this one out. Because, he could remember the times being on adventures with her and looking at her--really looking at her. And it was the first time he'd ever thought that Morti was actually kind of cute. She hadn't inherited all of Jerry's genes--thank god for that--but she wasn't beautiful or ugly or anything like that. Just cute.

Of course, the moment the thoughts like that even dared enter his brain, he got angry over it, which normally meant he took it out on her. It was a stupid thing to think about, embarrassing even, and he was angrier at himself for being this way, but Morti always took the hit for his bad moods when it happened, even if it wasn't her fault.

Sometimes when she wasn't whining about school or blabbing about something he really didn't give two shits about, she would ask him questions. Things he never really thought capable of her comprehending considering her track record at school. But, maybe Morti was more insightful than he gave her credit for.

But, that only made him angry too. Even when she asked an innocent question, a genuinely curious question about space or even life in general, something he could have given her more information about if the fact she'd even asked in the first place hadn't made him pissed off for no reason other than he'd roll his eyes at her, make fun of her for asking, because that's just what he did. To see the look on her face when he'd not only berate her intelligence but go off on tangents about her, to see her shrink into herself and hold back tears so he wouldn't see her cry.

He'd started feeling so guilty about it. When did he start giving a shit that he was hurting her feelings? It was her fault for being so sensitive, and he wanted to argue with himself that none of the other Ricks had to deal with this shit because they had boy Mortys, but he felt it in his gut. And it made him shut up.

No way he'd ever apologize to her, even though he'd started thinking about it in the back of his mind, because he knew deep down he was being shitty, but it only ever ended with him trying to justify with himself that she was being too sensitive. But, she'd stopped asking him questions.

He could remember that one night he was driving back home and they'd been on a particularly grueling adventure that day. It involved a lot of running, screaming from his end, crying from Morti's end, and huge monstrous aliens who wanted to tear them limb from limb. They were both exhausted from the long day just for them to come back to the ship and Morti gave him hell about almost killing them both while breaking down into hysteric sobs. He couldn't handle the near brush with death while also having his granddaughter crying at him like this, so he did the only thing he knew to do.

Yelled at her to shut the fuck up and get over it.

It was an awkward few seconds afterward, filled with Morti's gross sobs as she sniffed and wiped her face, but she didn't argue with him either. He felt guilty about that, as he knew having a near death experience like that wasn't particularly--well, good for her, but there was nothing for him to say to magically make it all better and so, no point in sugar coating it by saying everything was fine, because honestly, who cared.

Rick was agitated, Morti was upset, and there was nothing that could be said that would make things fine and dandy again. He responded in the only way he knew how, stress with depressants. That's why he always kept a spare bottle of booze in the ship, for situations like this. The first time he ever pulled out the liquor to drive, Morti scolded him for it, which he responded for her to mind her own damn business and he could handle it.

So, he drank.

The drive home didn't normally take so long, but he felt like taking the scenic route, which was just an excuse to drink a little more and mellow himself out before having to go back home, but at some point through the ride, Morti had tipped her head to the side and was fast asleep.

He could remember when he'd looked over at her, saw how exhausted she looked, with her hair disheveled from the day they'd had, and the random cuts and bruises on her arms from having to run around and physically exert herself. Morti, not being the most athletic person, tripped and fell during a chase, to which he had to double his efforts to save both her stupid ass and his to avoid getting killed. He gave her hell for that one too.

Even her clothes were torn in random spots from getting snagged and ripped, which only intensified his guilt the more he stared at her. She shouldn't have to deal with this, but he was the one making her go through this. That should have made him feel horrible, but it didn't. Not then anyway.

All he could focus on was her. Because it was then that he'd started having those random thoughts of how cute she looked that day, just to yell at her because he was mad at himself for having thought it in the first place. It wasn't her fault. But he pretended it was. Even beaten up like she was now, her hair a mess, her clothes ragged and covered in dirt, she looked cute.

In his drunken state he had a thought flash through his mind, because he could see some of her collarbone and stomach through the rips in her clothes. What if he saw her naked? And immediately almost crashed his ship as he veered too far, almost hitting a spot of random space asteroids that floated around him. The jolt the ship made was enough to stir Morti from sleep and she shot up so fast, she looked to him with instant terror and confusion.

"Relax." His words were slurred, but he'd gotten the ship back on course. He hadn't meant to scare the shit out of her like that, and that guilty feeling surfaced, but hell if he'd ever let it get to him.

They got back home with no further incident and he watched Morti sink off to her room, looking exhausted and as though she wanted to be emotional, but was too tired for that either. He wanted to keep drinking, so he did. And maybe it would drown out those thoughts he'd had earlier of her, because wow.

What kind of fucked up person was he to think of his own granddaughter that way?

He thought maybe it would pass. He was having stupid thoughts, getting angry over them wasn't helping, but that's what alcohol was for. Surely, he would forget about this and go back to being himself in no time.

By the time they were on their next adventure, Morti had gotten so close to him, he realized he was nervous around her.

It was so fucking confusing, because he was supposed to make fun of her dumb problems and her dumb voice and her dumb everything. But, he'd stopped. Not completely. But he hadn't made her cry in a while.

The mission was simple. Don't get caught. They were inside of a high security alien stronghold preparing to steal some precious artifacts, and he was pressed up against the metallic walls, peeking around the corner for any signs of guards. Morti was beside him, and had clung to his coat at some point, but when he realized she was pressing up against him, right on his side and he felt her arm come around to cling to the front of his shirt instead until she was almost hugging him.

He realized that the contact, even here and now in this situation, was making him sweaty. It was weird, as Morti had never been the clingy sort, especially around him, nor did she regularly hug her parents or anything like that, but he could feel her shaking and knew she was scared that they were going to get caught and possibly shot or something equally fatal. Maybe he shouldn't have talked up how dangerous this place was, or how elite the security guards were and how they could get snipered at any moment's notice. Yeah. Probably not a good idea.

He should have said something to her in that moment to calm her down so that they could get through the mission, but he just found himself instead pushing her off him, complaining how she was wrinkling his clothes grabbing them like that. There was just--something odd about the way he was getting nervous around her all the time, and it only reminded him that just days ago, he'd imagined her naked while sitting in his ship, which made that ever-present anger rise, but he didn't let it get the better of him.

That was one of the few missions they went on without any near-death experiences. He came home with handfuls of gems and gold, hiding them away in his vault for now. When he spotted Morti heading off to her room, head held low like she always did, he didn't know why he felt compelled to call out to her, but he did. "Uh, Morti?"

She stopped, turning to him, and he felt awkward. He was about to back down, feeling stupid for having even thought to say this, but he had her here. He may as well.

"You uh--ugh--d-did good today."

He felt really stupid having said that, but nothing could have prepared him for the smile Morti made. He never remembered seeing her smile like that at him, so genuine and happy because he had praised her for once. It made him realize shit--he had spent so much time talking down to her she probably wasn't used to this. But, her smile was ten times better than her emotional sobbing.

That nervous feeling crept back up at him and he had to look away, because damn was she making him feel weird all of a sudden. He realized too late that his face felt hot, but it wasn't from anger for once.

He was blushing.

Fucking blushing. Morti was making him blush, just because she smiled at him, and it made him so frustrated that he was ready to yell at her all over again, because what the fuck--why was he getting nervous around her and why was he acting stupid like this? Why did he care that he made her cry and even held back from his insults, just so that she didn't cry anymore, and why did he praise her for something, because he was hoping to see a smile? And she did. And he got what he wanted. But, he didn't think it would make him feel this weird.

There were a few more times he remembered Morti falling asleep in his ship and he'd caught himself staring at her before he had to remember to focus on what he was actually doing. There was a light scent of her shampoo in the air, and he had a passing fantasy of lifting her hair up to inhale the scent of apples.

He didn't do that, of course. But, he realized he was thinking things like this a lot more frequently. A lot. Weird little fantasies. Like how he wanted her to lean into him again like she did when she was afraid and clung to his shirt. There was even a thought that crossed his mind where he wanted to fake it. Like. Manipulate a situation in which he made it out to be so much worse so that Morti was scared and clung onto him again. Or maybe he could one up that and pile so much treasure into his ship that she had nowhere to sit. But she'd have to sit in his lap. Or even go further and pretend the ship was out of fuel so they were stuck out somewhere and she could sleep in the little cot he'd made in the back. There wasn't room enough for two people, but--maybe if he packed a little more pillows back there he could sleep next to her.

Random thoughts like this were plaguing him day and night. Rick often turned to alcohol or drugs to make them go away, but that usually only made it worse. If he got high, he'd only get bored with being high and end up masturbating--which meant he thought about Morti.

He was so guilty the first time he came to the thought of her, that he was horrified. How could he do this? Why did he even think of her? It was one thing to fantasize about her or picture scenarios in which she came to him in the dead of night, crawling into his lap and pulling his head down by his neck to forcibly kiss him--a thought which got him off way too easily when he thought about it.

But, the more he thought about things like that, the more he wanted to get drunk and pretend nothing was wrong. Morti was a stupid teenager, not a...whatever he was thinking of her now.

It wasn't like it happened overnight. They'd been on too many adventures, had too many awful memories on other planets which were usually angry emotional yelling, but he'd been spending a lot of time with her the past several months after he moved in. His first impression of her had started waning over time and despite the grueling adventures they had most of the time, he had gotten to know her more.

She was emotional, that much was apparent, but she also had hobbies, dreams, fears. Morti was an actual person, not just another Morty, and he would rarely see that part of her sometimes when she decided to open up to him. He wondered why he was the one she often opened up to, figuring she would prefer to do that with her mother, or even her sister, but then he realized that she spent more time with him than anyone else too. She probably had no choice.

The things she needed from her parents, like advice and emotional support, and help with homework, he was almost demanded that from her. While out on drives in the spaceship, she would ask him for advice, and he wondered why. Because, nothing he ever told her was any of the bubblegum sparkly shit that her parents did. He didn't sugarcoat anything. He didn't tell her high school was the best time of her life and she'd make lifelong friends and that grades mattered. Quite the opposite. Sometimes he'd tell her to flat out ditch school and just travel around with him, that what he could teach her was way more useful than anything she could learn in school.

Over time, he noticed that she started taking some of what he had to say to heart. Not that she went to her parents demanding to skip school, but during their adventures, if he made comments about something, she would agree with him. Sometimes he'd make a lame stupid joke and she'd laugh at it, and the adventures were taking their toll on her. Morti had definitely grown a spine since the first time he met her, and he realized when he started shit with her, she would argue back with him, sometimes resulting in screaming matches from both their ends. Something that, back in the day, Morti would have cried about because he'd hurt her feelings.

But, she was becoming different around him. He couldn't say that he hated it.

He caught her watching him one day while he was working at his desk, building a small machine in which the goal was to teleport small objects. He just wanted to steal shit, basically. But, Morti crept up behind him, dressed in her pink frilly nightgown and watched him work for a while, as he drilled and fired small electrical sparks into things and stuff.

She finally spoke after watching him for so long. "I-it's amazing you can b-build things like this."

The compliment made his pride swell, as well as his ego, and he couldn't help the smug response he made. "Well, I-I am the smartest man in the universe." With her watching him work and complimenting him, he felt that odd feeling in his stomach again, and felt a stupid compulsion to impress her. He wanted her to compliment him even more, he wanted to show off his gadgets and all the inventions he made, just so he could see her face light up. "I-I ever sh-show you this?" Pulling back from the chair, he reached into the nearby cabinet and pulled out a small object that looked like a weird metallic microscope, but with extra knobs and buttons on a user interface.

Morti's face lit up, and he felt his pride swell even more. He didn't know why he was doing this, as it was a stupid childish thing, to show off his inventions, but he didn't know why seeing her make that face at him made him so... "Wh-what's it do?"

"I-it's a t-transmitter. I-it sends codes to other planets basically, b-but they c-can translate it i-into any language they want."

She smiled as she stared at the gadget in his hand with wonder. "Th-that's so cool. I wish I-I could build s-stuff like this."

Putting the invention away in his desk, Rick shrugged at her, feeling smug all over again. "I-if you keep g-going on adventures w-with me, maybe you'll-ugh-learn something for a change."

And she was so close to him that he could smell the scent of strawberries on her. She always did wash with fruity shampoos and soaps, he noticed. Why did he notice that? What a stupid, weird thing to notice.

The closer she got, as she leaned over the desk to look at his inventions, as she showed such curiosity and intrigue for his work, he found himself looking at her. With her bent over, he could make out what little cleavage she had, and it made him sweaty. Her skin looked so soft, and she had little curls in her hair from being freshly showered, as her hair was still damp, and he could smell the strawberry scent even more when she was this close. Did she even realize he could see down her gown like this? He could almost see the edges of her nipples as she stood bent over, but goddamn.

Was she beautiful. He felt it hit him so hard, he almost retched in his seat with her this close to him, with her gown dipped down as she stood bent over looking at his stuff, and his eyes were glued straight at her chest. He could so easily reach out and touch her. Feel how soft her skin was. Run his fingers through her damp hair and inhale that scent until it hung in his senses for days. He could so easily nab her by the arm and in one motion, pull her until she was in his lap, and he could pull her close against him, until he was engulfed in her scent. In the scent of his Morti. He had no doubt if he kissed her, her mouth would taste fresh with mint.

Then she pulled back, away from him, and he could breathe a little more. She hadn't noticed him staring at her, and thank fuck for that, because he had no idea what in the hell he would ever say to her if she caught him staring at her like that. But, his face was so hot, he could feel it, and forced his gaze away from her so she didn't notice him blush. Why in the hell was she making him feel this way? He didn't get it.

He'd fucked aliens with way more sex appeal than her. He'd gone all out back in his day, screwing whatever moved, fucking aliens with extra appendages, tentacles, you name it. Aliens that looked human, but could shape shift their bodies to look like the hottest super model he'd ever laid eyes on, but this.

He'd never felt like this with them. He'd never gotten nervous around those random people he'd slept with, or even felt embarrassed about himself. Rick always had a lot to be proud of, had the ego the size of the universe, and he knew fucking them would never mean anything, because it was just sex.

But Morti was creating a horrible feeling that was making him go crazy. She was making him blush, twiddle his fingers, grow nervous, and goddamn, he even fucking wanted to show his inventions off to impress her. Just why the fuck was he acting like he was a teenager all of a sudden? He was fucking seventy goddamn years old, there was no reason for him to be acting this way.

Or thinking about his granddaughter like she was one of them.

He wanted to lie when he thought about her at night, too high or drunk to remember that he'd masturbated to her, called her name out as he came to the idea of her riding him all night long, but in the morning, he could forget it happened. He could always forget that as something he only did in private, that would be something he took to the fucking grave when he did. And it was just a passing feeling if anything.

Morti had been spending a lot of time with him lately, and he started noticing she was growing up a little. So, like. There wasn't really anything unusual about him noticing that she was a teenager who was growing older, right?

Right?

But, he shouldn't have been blushing around her, wanting to impress her, and fucking--looking at her tits when she was in her nightgown. That's something only sick people do. He wasn't one of those guys. Only sick people do that, and he wasn't--he wasn't like that.

But god, did he ever feel the need to want to pull her down into the garage that night and fuck her hard. The fantasy of him tugging her by the arm until she was in his lap, until she pulled his hair like he'd imagine in those scenarios so many goddamn times, until she was ripping at his clothes, begging for him, until he gave her what she wanted and he could indulge in every little bit of her as long as he wanted.

Why in the fuck did he want that?

It horrified him at first, because he was sick to think of doing that to her, and nobody was supposed to do shit like that. He could indulge in his fantasies all night long, he could forget it ever happened the next day, as long as he got to think about it at night. Alcohol only numbed him so much, but it didn't make him forget what he'd touched himself to. What he'd imagined Morti doing to him, and what he thought about doing with her.

It was becoming so bad that he often thought about it during the day. Just being in the same room with her made him nervous and sweaty and he would think about stripping her clothes off and fucking her and it was driving him insane. He even considered, as stupid as it was, being honest with her. Telling her upfront how he thought of her just to see her reaction.

He wondered how things could have been different if he had chosen to do that, instead of doing what he did.

Because then Jessica came along.

Fucking. Jessica.

That was something he felt had happened overnight. One day Morti was asking him about the inventions on his table, and the next--fucking gushing about Jessica. Just where in the fuck did it come from? She couldn't have developed a crush that goddamn fast. Unless--she did.

Morti was fourteen, he probably heard her gush about crushes way before when he didn't give a fuck, but suddenly he did. Suddenly he cared. When she came home talking about how perfect and beautiful that girl was--it made his blood boil, and he didn't know why.

That was a gradual fall downhill. He only got worse from there. His thoughts about her only got worse and worse, and he started feeling less guilty about it. Because, she wasn't as eager to go on adventures with him anymore. She didn't come into the garage to ask him random questions about his inventions, or ask him for advice. She didn't even ask him for help on her homework anymore.

All she talked about was Jessica.

He had to practically drag her on adventures with him against her will to get her out of the house anymore. When she wasn't with him, she was talking about that girl and blushing about her, talking stupid shit like how she wanted to marry her and move out together when she went to college.

And it made him want to fucking break something over his knee every goddamn time he heard her mention her name. Just the name put him in a bad mood--just the mere mention of her, if he knew Morti was hanging out with her, made him angry. Because she had no idea what she was doing, she was pouring out all her feelings to someone who would probably break her heart, but why did that girl get to--

Why did Morti have to fall in love with her?

He was in the garage one night, hammered as fuck, and staring at his hands. A broken vial of liquid lay at his feet that he'd purposefully dropped, because every time he got this way, he wanted to break something in anger, knowing it would alleviate that feeling and he would feel better. But he didn't. He knew. Maybe it was there the whole time and he'd been denying it for so long, because he didn't want to admit it to himself, or believe it, because it was too fucking much.

But he liked her. He hated the idea of his Morti being with someone else--and he knew he could never have her. Not like that. How did this happen? How did he stoop so low as to develop feelings for her that way?

When did she make him love her?

Because he did. He would never ever say it to her, and it was hard to admit even to himself, it was eating at him day and night, these stupid confusing feelings he tried to block out of his head with drugs and alcohol, but they kept coming back to consume him.

He loved her. He'd fallen for her, and the idea of her being with someone else, no matter how trivial, pissed him off to no end.

But, he couldn't deal with this. Rick turned to the only thing he knew to deal with his problems--heavy drugs. He remembered getting so fucked up in the garage that night, wishing the ideas and thoughts and fantasies and scenarios would leave him alone. He wished he would stop thinking about ever doing that with Morti. He wished the drugs would wipe the thought from his mind and things could go back to the way they were.

Just go back to when he thought she was a boring ass teenager who annoyed him. He wasn't supposed to feel this way towards her. He wasn't supposed to love her and obsess over her and have thoughts about stealing her away from everybody to keep to himself where he could lock her away from the world--all to himself.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel prideful of her. When he used to think she would always look up to him and she would always rely on him, she would always think the best of him--he had always been way too prideful of her. He used to imagine how lucky he was able to be in a universe where he--he, him, the Rick of this universe--got to be with a Morticia. He was that lucky. Even though he didn't see it at first. Even though he thought she would wear him down and he would want to abandon her in favor of a boy Morty, but he ended up feeling guilty when he made her cry, enjoying the times she asked him for advice, wanting to impress her--and fell this hard for her.

He had fallen this hard. Literally on the floor in the garage, drunk from liquor and high off his ass from alien drugs as he wanted so bad to forget this feeling--because it was too painful.

There were times he wanted to show her off at the Citadel. In a passing secret that only he would get the hidden meaning of, he would take them there one day, proud, so proud of his Morti, of his Morticia that he was so lucky to have. And while most Ricks had their dumbass Mortys thinking they were hot shit for it, deep down he would be so lucky for what he had.

And the thought of her doing this. Crushing on some random high schooler, focusing all her attention in one fell swoop to this girl like she was the sun and moon for her, he lay down in the garage realizing how pathetic he was to think of a life without Morti. Because he never realized how much he needed her--or wanted her.

It was so stupid.

This was stupid.

He knew in his drunken stupor he could never have her. They could never have something normal or--good. No matter how he thought of it, how much he ached for her, and for this feeling that was consuming him, he knew.

It was when that Rick at the bar told him that Ricks fucked their Mortys all the time that it ever hit him from a different angle. What if Morti ever thought of him that way too? She spent so much time with him in the past, and she was a horny teenager (give or take), he wondered if she ever had fantasies about him too.

Maybe the relationship wasn't so far out of his reach after all. He could get excited about it again, at the thought of doing this, because it wasn't going to go away with drugs or alcohol. But, maybe he still shouldn't have done what he did.

He thought if he drugged her, he could still get away with those night time fantasies. Morti wouldn't get hurt, he could keep indulging in himself, and everything would be fine.

He was surprised just how little hesitation he had when he drugged her for the first time. It should have made him stop and think. This was going to fuck her up. This was going to be bad, if she ever found out. But maybe she didn't have to find out. Morti wasn't going to accept him anyway, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep doing this to himself. It was agonizing keeping a straight face in front of her all day long, without letting his emotions slip up and let his true self slide. Without pulling her down into a secluded room where he wanted to kiss her and hear her moan and fuck her all night long.

The alcohol didn't numb him enough, and he still felt a pang of guilt every fucking time he found himself spiking her drink. Sneaking alien narcotics into her food. Waiting till she was asleep to go into her room in the dead of night to do this.

Nobody would know. Nobody would believe her even if she found him out. He could do this for as long as he wanted, and if Morti never found out, she wouldn't get hurt. He could live life this way, fucking her in a drugged induced state as she lay limp underneath him. He could continue the rest of his life doing this to her if it meant hiding everything from her to keep her safe.

But.

He had to fuck up. He had to get too drunk and forget to slip her the needle. He had to just--keep doing this and when she did find him out, he got scared. The moment she ran crying to Beth about this, he had no idea what the fuck he was going to say to her. Any lie he could say would have to be really convincing, but he also knew Beth kissed his ass in fear of abandonment again.

But he highly doubted Beth would be the sort of monster who would shun her daughter in favor of his affection. Beth wasn't the kind of person who would do that, not if her daughter was claiming that her grandpa raped her.

In his panic he had resorted to being rough with her again. Something he hadn't wanted to do. He was cruel to her, he was so cruel. He threatened to tell her mom about this, assuring her that he would come out on top no matter what.

And Morti believed him.

She still believed him, even in a situation like this. Because he was letting his emotions drive him, he was letting this obsession with her take things way too far. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Rick never wanted things to end up like this.

But.

Every time he held her in his arms, even after the times he'd lose his temper and yell at her because she had to argue with him, she had to make out like she was going to go hang out with her girlfriend, he couldn't accept that. The idea of her being with someone else--it still tugged at him like some awful noose jerking his neck and threatening to break.

He could not.

Would not.

Let her be with someone else. He didn't care how upset she got, how much she hated him, he didn't want to feel the way he felt without her again. He didn't want to spend the nights in the garage about to die from overdose and alcohol poisoning because the thought that he had fallen in love with her was too much for him to handle.

Because the fact she had feelings for someone else was too much to handle.

She could scream and fight him all she wanted. He wasn't going to stop until he made her understand. He would fight her back until he made her understand his feelings. He would take her away to an alien planet where they could be alone again, back to those adventures, back to the old times, if he had to. He would keep her there until she understood.

Because with her in his arms, he never felt a sense of happiness like he felt with his Morti. She probably had no idea just how happy she made him. He would never tell her, because he couldn't. He couldn't admit his feelings, but that was okay.

He could show her. He would show her how much she meant to him.

Because--

Morti made his life meaningful. He didn't think he could go back to the way things were without her. Never back to that. Not back to that monotonous hell he thought he was okay with. He had grown complacent with his life and got his cheap thrills from the near brushes with death from adventures--but Morti. Morti was something else.

It was stupid, he could never have imagined things would come to this, or he would feel this way, having thoughts like a fucking teenager over somebody like this--let alone his own granddaughter. But he did. He fucking did. He hated it, he hated it. He felt so stupid.

He loved her. And his life wouldn't be the same without her.

Chapter Text

Monday morning was fucking awful, but that was much to be expected. It wasn't like the weekend was fun, and she'd been stressing about having to go to school that day anyway, having rehearsed what she was going to say over and over until her brain was fried.

But, when Monday approached unavoidably that morning and Morticia opened her eyes to the dreary view of her ceiling, she wanted to skip. Facing Jessica after the weekend, especially after ignoring her texts and not giving anymore clarity on what happened Friday was going to be a fucking nightmare.

Rising out of bed, Morticia felt like a whole pile of lead was attached to her body, and she didn't want to move. Getting out of bed, having to get dressed and go there, just knowing what was going to happen, was giving her a whole new level of stress she didn't think possible. Despite having rehearsed the conversation she was going to have with Jessica later that day, she woke up feeling like it was all for nothing, and could feel the words fading away from her mind. Not that they were going to be full of confidence, but she at least knew what she wanted to say. But now.

Now she felt lost. She didn't want to do this, didn't want to drag herself to school just to break Jessica's heart. It wasn't fair that this was the way things were going to happen, and that she had to be the one to do this. A lot of things had happened lately that weren't fair, but she had to keep reminding herself it was going to be for the best.

But, she knew deep down this was for selfish reasons too. She wasn't just doing this to protect Jessica from any potential violence Rick might direct at her if he so decided, something Morticia feared he would do if she didn't cut her ties, but she also feared that Jessica would shun her if she ever found out what was happening.

There was no reason to be afraid of something like that, because she knew how understanding and kind she was--but it was still an irrational fear that kept her awake at night. Something that would eat at her from day to day life at being told it was her fault. Even though she already blamed herself. Even though she already knew it was her fault. But, hearing it from someone else, especially Jessica, would be too heartbreaking. And maybe then it would be true after all.

And.

She sighed from her position in her bed, feeling tired already from having woken up. Maybe if she did this, maybe if she cut her ties with Jessica and broke up with her and stopped all this drama from happening with Rick--maybe.

Maybe he would stop.

She knew without a doubt he wouldn't stop. Nothing would stop him--he was fucking crazy, but Morticia couldn't help the little sliver of hope from inside. And she was selfish for it. To do this to Jessica just because she hoped there was any chance of making all this stop--she really was a bad person. No wonder Rick hated her.

Ugh, if she thought of things like this too early in the morning, she really would lose her nerve to even get out of bed. Today was going to suck, but she was going to push through until it was over. She had no other choice after all.

The morning was honestly a blur from then on. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, did her other morning routines without any incidents, and arrived at school, all while feeling in a daze. It wasn't like the times she woke up hungover from being drugged, but she recognized the symptoms of getting little to no sleep. That had started becoming more and more the routine the past couple of weeks. It wasn't like she could help it.

Morticia had gotten into a bad habit of coming home from school, falling asleep for a few hours the moment she crashed on her bed, and then staying up most of the night. The noises the house made would make her nervous sometimes, and if she dared drift off to sleep then, she'd just have nightmares that would wake her up anyway. Once in a while, she could escape for a few hours and have a nice, nonsensical dream about something stupid. Like skyscrapers and the ocean.

It was the stress. It had to be the stress. He hadn't come into her room for a long time to do any of that while she was sleeping, but she had no way of knowing if he did or didn't anymore. Now that knew what being drugged felt like, she could say when she woke up in the mornings she wasn't in a sludge from the haze, and felt a little relief knowing he hadn't come back to do that.

But, it didn't mean anything. He didn't appear keen on drugging her now, so she had nothing to worry about. It was the fear of being taken away in the middle of the night that kept her up, waiting. Watching. Listening for any signs of him. Not that she'd be able to do anything should he choose to pull them both into the bunker for the rest of the night, but--it gave her an odd, if not small, sense of security to stay awake so she could be ready for him.

She froze at her locker that morning, trying to will away the grogginess from very little sleep last night to having to come here today. It would be a miracle if she didn't fall asleep in her classes, but maybe during lunch she could skip and go to the library where it was quiet and take a nap there.

"Morti?"

Her hand froze on the binding of her math textbook, and she felt her chest tighten and her whole body seize up at the sound of the voice next to her. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was, as she would recognize that voice from anywhere.

But, when she turned to see Jessica smiling at her, not looking the least bit bothered that she never responded to her texts, Morticia almost lost her nerve right then and there. She couldn't handle that, couldn't handle the kindness she was already being given just by this small gesture, just from Jessica smiling at her that way. It never failed to make her blush, but today--she looked down to the floor in shame, because she wasn't deserving of that smile.

And Jessica wasted no time in coming to her aid. "Are you okay, Morti? Are you still sick from this weekend? I wanted to text you, but I figured you were still feeling bad and needed some rest. I didn't know how serious it was, so I didn't expect you to be here today actually."

She was kind, she was way too nice to her, even like this. Morticia had lied to her to cover up the fact what happened, even though it was all out of her control. Nothing that happened that night could have been further out of her control--but maybe it could have. She had fucked up and told Mom about it. Mom told him. He caught her. It was her fault she didn't take the necessary precautions. If she really wanted to go see Jessica that badly, she would have sneaked away from the house like last time. Maybe come home and he would've been pissed off, but at least she would have gotten to go on the date then.

But, it would have happened anyway, wouldn't it? If she had come home from a date, Rick would have done worse to her than what he did. The thought made her clutch her book in her arms, squeezing until she felt her knuckles turn white. He might have gotten violent with her, kept her down there for days, fucked her until sunrise when she couldn't take anymore. Maybe it was good he caught her before, because she couldn't really think of how mad he would've been if she had gotten away with it.

It was her fault.

She was shaking. Tears were forming in her eyes because she just wanted this to stop. She wanted to stop living in fear that he would pop up around any given corner and take her away. She wanted to stop feeling like she was disgusting all the time. Stop taking multiple showers every day because she felt dirty all the goddamn time. Stop feeling like Mom would shun her and call her disgusting if she ever found her out. Stop thinking that Jessica--

"Morti?"

She looked up, at her concerned expression, how she had tilted her head ever so slightly to the side as she looked down at her with nothing but concern, and Morticia hated it. The tears fell, and she reached up to wipe her face, feeling disgusting when she stood there against the lockers crying because of what she let him do to her.

"U-um--" It was so hard to get her words out, even more so than usual. When she'd normally be blushing around Jessica and twiddling her fingers because she was too nervous to hold her hand or kiss her cheek because Jessica was too beautiful.

The school bell rang above their heads, but the hallways were empty. They were both late and it was all Morticia's fault. Jessica didn't leave, she only reached over to rub her shoulder to reassure her, but Morticia couldn't even handle that. She flinched away.

"Do you need to go home?" Jessica's voice was soft and understanding.

It took her way too long to answer as she stood there trying to dry the tears. For fuck's sake, she hadn't even gotten her words out yet and she was already breaking down. "N-no. It's n-n-not--" She had to do this. She had to be strong. Even if it was selfish, she had to do this. "J-Jessica?"

"Yes?"

It was way too silent in the hallway, as the classes had already started. Any moment now a teacher would walk by and see them skipping and call them out on it, and Jessica would get in trouble because of her. It was all her fault.

"I-I..." Spit it out. Tell her already, fucking break her heart and fucking be a piece of shit, because that's all she was, Morticia was a piece of shit, she probably deserved everything Rick was doing to her, he was probably punishing her for something she did wrong, and maybe it was happening because she was so disgusting in the first place--maybe he hated her so much he wanted to fucking show her how stupid she was and how dirty she could be, and how fucking-- "I can't..." The look on her face. How patiently she was waiting for Morticia to get her words out. For Jessica to be so patient with her, to touch her gently and tell her she was loved and for her to still treat her with so much kindness--Morticia didn't deserve this. It hurt more than if Jessica were to yell at her to fucking spit it out and be done with it.

"You can't what?" There was still a gentle, soft tone to her voice as she egged her along to get the sentence out.

Just say it. Fucking say it. Break her heart, fucking be the disgusting slut you know you are. You probably wanted it anyway. "I-I d-don't want to hang out anymore."

The words hung like thick smog in the air, like something physically manifesting itself right then and there. They fell. Morticia could feel her heart breaking when she finally spat the sentence out, and she never once looked away from Jessica's face. And maybe she should have. Because, she only looked at her in confusion, but never once anger or frustration.

"Did I do...something wrong?"

She way too quickly rose to her defense. No way would she let Jessica think this was her fault. That wasn't fair, that wasn't fucking fair to her. "No! No, i-it's not that--"

She cut her off, but not out of frustration. "Morti, are you sure you're okay? This is so sudden. Did I take things too far asking you out to dinner last Friday? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's not that--" She was losing her resolve more and more. "I don't--" And she had to lie. Maybe it would break Jessica's heart, but it was all she could think of in that moment she had dried tears stained on her cheeks and her book smashed up against her so far, the edges were digging into her skin. "I-I'm not interested in y-you." It was a blatant lie, a horrible lie even. But it was all she could think of. "A-and I don't want t-to hang out anymore."

For once, Jessica stood silent in front of her, and she watched as her gaze fell to the floor. She looked hurt, and confused, and Morticia felt terrible. This was going to happen whether she liked it or not, she knew the consequences of doing this, but she did it anyway, but seeing Jessica actually get hurt from this--she started crying all over again.

Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe it would. But, she muttered, "I-I'm sorry," as an afterthought to Jessica before turning around to head to her class.

"Morti." The sound of her voice from behind made her stop, and she turned one last time to see that Jessica was still gazing at the floor, now holding the side of her arm and appearing to be holding back tears of her own. But, she was much stronger than Morticia. She had way more sympathy than her, and she knew. This wasn't fair. "If this is what you really want, I understand, but." She looked up at her, her expression turning worried. "Please, if there's something we can talk through, or something you're not telling me, I'll listen. I promise."

She almost broke. Right down in the hallway, she could feel her whole resolve crumble around her, could feel her emotions cracking down as she wanted so bad to run back into her arms and beg for forgiveness, tell her she was sorry and she would make it up to her, because she loved her. Morticia wanted to beg her to save her. Please.

Please, help her.

Help her, help her, please, please, make it stop. Make him stop.

Because he was hurting her.

Instead of responding to her, because Morticia knew if she opened her mouth again, she would regret anything she had to say in that moment, she turned and walked away. At first, she was going to go to class and try to push through, but she couldn't fucking do that now.

The girls' restroom was empty when she walked inside, locking the door behind her so she could be alone. Nobody appeared to be in the stalls, and she was greeted with the familiar reflection of herself in those cracked, stained, smudged mirrors that hung over the sinks. Morticia ran to one before splashing her face with water. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her face was a goddamn mess because of it.

But, she probably deserved it anyway. The mirror was only showing her how gross she really was. How disgusting she really was. What a fucking horrible person she really was.

Maybe she deserved every bit of this. Maybe she had seduced him and maybe she secretly even wanted this from him. He was only giving her what she really wanted. He claimed the other Mortys and Morticias from all over the goddamn universe couldn't fucking wait to let this happen, and begged for it even.

She wasn't one of them, but she was. If they were truly the same people, maybe she was.

Maybe her relationship with Jessica was a lie. Maybe she had lied to herself at some point to block out the fact she had seduced her grandpa and didn't want to admit that she wanted him to touch her. She was lying to herself the whole time that she wanted this. She was disgusting, she was a fucking--fucking disgusting piece of shit.

Morticia looked down at her hands, her eyes blurry with tears.

It was easier to say that. Easier to admit she was a horrible person who didn't deserve anything Jessica gave her. It was too good for her. Everything was too good for Morticia.

Maybe she was a bad person. Maybe Rick was punishing her for it. Maybe he really did hate her that much.

She clung to the edges of the sink, gripping the cold ceramic below her and looking down at the drain that was stained brown from the water. She wanted to bash her head against the wall, wanted to ram her body into something hard and sharp over and over again. Wanting to shower with water so hot, it turned her skin red until it burned it all off.

She wanted to ruin everything he had touched. Nobody was ever going to want her if they knew she had fucked him. Jessica wouldn't want her near her if she knew how dirty she was, what she did with him, what she probably wanted from the start.

She looked up into the mirror, back at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but at least the tears had stopped and the redness was going away. At least it wasn't shown on her face what a fucking piece of shit she was.

Make it stop.

Please, make it stop.

What was she going to do if this didn't stop him? He always got angry whenever she mentioned Jessica, whenever she dared want to hang out with her, or even fathom the idea of her. Morticia didn't know what to do. This wasn't going to fucking stop him, she knew that. She knew it wouldn't.

Yelling didn't help. Fighting didn't help. Crying about it didn't help. Nothing fucking mattered.

She sighed and fell away from the sink, leaning onto the nearby wall until she sank down onto her knees and rested her head down. Well, she skipped first period. And she didn't feel like moving anymore honestly. Maybe skipping the next few classes wouldn't be such a bad idea.


 

School was a fucking drag the rest of that day. Morticia ended up staying in the bathroom for over an hour, but inevitably, someone came knocking on the door, demanding entry, and she had to give up hiding and return to the real world. She seriously contemplated leaving and just going home, because any time she saw Jessica in the hallways, Morticia would cast her gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. Morticia had gone out of her way to avoid her altogether, such as taking alternate routes to her locker, or waiting for an abnormal amount of time until she thought Jessica wouldn't be there anymore.

It never failed that she slipped up and caught her. Jessica never looked at her in anger or betrayal, but she did look hurt. It was something Morticia could hardly stand to see, but she couldn't bring herself to skip school either. That would only be more heartache on her end. There was little she could do in this situation other than ride it out.

With the end of the day approaching, Morticia was at home, having cried several times throughout the day and her eyes were perpetually swollen. She sat at the dinner table, a bowl of soggy cereal setting in front of her she decided to pour for herself since she hadn't eaten all day, but even now, she didn't feel hungry. The cereal had soaked up all the milk and she stared at the little pieces of marshmallow that floated around, trying to pretend she could see pictures in the flakes to take her mind off everything.

Her eyes were blurry with tears, and every once in a while she would feel them fall, only for her to reach up and wipe at her face with frustration that she couldn't make them stop. They just kept coming and nothing she did could make herself stop crying today.

As she sat there hunch over her cereal, playing with the bits of marshmallow with her spoon, someone grabbed her from behind. A hand placed itself onto her shoulder, and Morticia's first instinct, when she felt the tips of their fingers being pressed into her like that, was to jump from her seat, not expecting to be grabbed.

She had meant to fling herself from the chair and stand up, but the sudden movement resulted in her banging her knee into the table, causing the whole thing to shift forward, and she felt the throbbing pain of the impact instantly, making her flinch.

"Honey?!"

Mom. It was Mom.

Holy shit, she thought it was Rick at first, and she felt so stupid standing there leaning up against the table, having banged her leg into it where a bruise was surely forming. Mom looked so worried, and there was no way she could hide how her face looked. She'd been crying all day long, there was no point in denying it, or trying to anyway.

"What's the matter, honey? Did something happen at school?"

"J..." It was hard to get the words out. There was no way she could tell Mom the truth, because then she would press her for answers. She would question her why, and Morticia didn't know if she would believe her or not. She couldn't just say she broke up with Jessica because she didn't have feelings for her anymore. Mom, and everybody else in this damn house knew she was crazy about her. "J-Jessica broke up with me..." It felt so fucking awful to lie to her like that, to blame Jessica for something that wasn't her fault. She shouldn't have to take the brunt of the fall like this just because Morticia was too stupid to do something for herself.

But, Mom's face fell, and she gave her that sympathetic look before running her fingers through her hair. "Oh sweetie, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. No goddamn way she wanted to talk about this. The whole day had already drained her dry of all her emotional stamina as it was. Morticia didn't know how much more she could take.

Mom pulled her close then, and gave her a tight hug. It was meant to be comforting, and Morticia could feel the genuine comfort from her in that moment, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she hugged her mom. Or her dad. So, she hugged back, wanting to be comforted, even though this was all her fault. Everything was her fault. "I'm here if you want to talk to me, okay? I know it hurts now, but things will be fine. Don't worry."

When she pulled back, Morticia could feel her face was still wet from tears as Mom smiled at her and she opened her mouth then, when she saw that look on her face. "M-Mom--" Because she was holding her so close and Morticia didn't want to be ripped away from the safety of her arms like this.

She wanted to tell her.

Wanted to beg her for help. Please, make him stop, please, make it all go away, please save her. Save her. Help her.

But, the moment the words were right there, right at the tip of her tongue when she so badly wanted to cry into her mom's front and beg her for help, beg her to please, please don't tell her she was the one who asked for this, please don't abandon her and tell her it was all her fault. Please, just tell her it was okay. She stopped.

It was still there. No matter what happened, even being comforted by her mom, having her smile at her like this and hold her close, Morticia feared that the moment she uttered those words, it would be ripped away from her. Mom would push her off, call her disgusting, tell her it was all her fault, and leave her. Mom wouldn't take her side, because maybe it really was her fault. Maybe she deserved this.

She looked off to the side, not able to handle the way Mom so gently smiled at her like that. Even that hurt. She didn't deserve her pity, to be comforted, to feel as though she needed saving.

Morticia was fucking disgusting. And she didn't deserve to be saved.


 

It was barely past eleven when Morticia sat up from bed, her stomach growling in protest for a proper meal. She never ate her cereal from earlier, opting instead to stare at it for a while before Beth came in which only resulted in her getting even more emotional than she was before. So, Morticia cleaned her food away, went to her bedroom, and had basically been lying in bed all day. She drifted off at one point, but she couldn't recall when.

The whole day felt like one big blur. She still felt miserable, but not eating certainly wasn't going to help matters. The growl her stomach made only served to intensify the pain she could feel deep down. She at least needed a pop tart or a cookie or something. Bigger meals could come later.

Standing from her bed and making her way into the kitchen, Morticia flicked on the light before digging around in the cabinet for something salvageable. There was a bottle of pringles, but it looked like they'd been in there for a while, and she didn't really want something salty anyway.

A bag of oreos was stuffed into the corner, so she grabbed that, nabbing a couple of the cookies before turning to the fridge to get some milk.

And he was standing not mere feet from her, having made his way soundlessly around the corner at one point. How long he'd been standing there staring at her as she dug around in the cabinet for food, she didn't know. But, the sight of him standing right there made her stumble when he startled her and she almost dropped her cookies.

"Jeez, what are you s-so--ugh--jumpy for?" As usual, he started off any conversation with her with an attitude, but she was in no mood for his bullshit today. Couldn't he get off her back for once and let her go be sad in her bedroom without giving her hell about it?

"I-if you'd stop popping up around c-corners like a creepy stalker, maybe I-I wouldn't be so jumpy." She knew arguing back with him wasn't a good idea, but hell, she also didn't care. Maybe yelling back at him would be good for her right now. She needed to take out her frustrations on someone, and he was the only person here right now. If he was going to antagonize her like this, so be it. She'd fucking give him what he wanted if he wanted to fight so bad.

"Sheesh, you're f-fucking moody as fuck today. B-bet it's because your little girlfriend dumped you, huh? T-told you that wouldn't last more th-than a-a-ugh-a week. Wh-what was her excuse, huh? H-honestly, I'm surprised it l-lasted this long, with th-the way you talked her up, would've figured she'd a-at least give you a month's worth o-of her time or so--"

"She didn't." Fuck his insufferable babbling, she couldn't take this anymore. Of course he would know about that, of course Mom opened her mouth and told him all about it. Fuck him fuck him, he didn't deserve any of her explanations, she didn't owe him a goddamn thing, but she couldn't stand hearing him badmouth Jessica like that.

"D-didn't what?"

Glaring up at him with all the hatred she could muster into one stare, Morticia spoke through gritted teeth, hoping the tone in her voice would get the fucking point across. "I'm the one who broke up with her."

The look she gave him actually made him stop for a moment and she could see a flash come across his face that almost looked like--shock, maybe? But only for a moment, before he broke eye contact with her. At least it stopped his stupid ranting. "Oh..."

Oh? That's all he had to say about it? Well, she wasn't sure what she expected, to be honest. Certainly not an 'oh'. Maybe more babbling from him. Maybe angry ranting and his usual berating telling her how stupid she was to think she could get away with dating Jessica, with thinking she was going to graduate high school and marry her. That's what she was used to anyway. Not this--not seeing him at a loss for words for once and staring at the floor like he had no idea what to say to her.

It was making her uncomfortable. Maybe in some messed up kind of way, she wanted him to yell at her, to call her stupid, to tell her this was her fault, because she did nothing but feel terrible for what she'd done all day long. All she'd done was cry about it. If someone were to tell her it was her fault, she could at least agree and say that this terrible feeling had a reason.

Because, she was a horrible person to do this. She didn't deserve Mom's pity, or the kindness Jessica had spared her earlier. She broke her heart and the look on her face--the way she could see how Jessica looked sad, she looked so sad, was haunting her all day. How could she do this? She didn't want to do this. Morticia deserved to be yelled and screamed at, told she was terrible and that it was all her fault. If they wanted to call her a piece of shit, she deserved it.

The silence that hung in the air between her and Rick was making her too uncomfortable, and she gripped her cookies tighter in her hands, not sure if she felt hungry at all anymore, but wanted to go back to her room. These thoughts were making her emotional again, and she just wanted to go cry in peace.

He was blocking the entryway. She didn't want to, but she would have to push past him to get out of the kitchen if she wanted to go back to her room. Honestly, did that even matter anymore? Did the fact she was still scared around him and felt dirty and disgusting even matter? She felt like she deserved that too even. If she had to swallow her pride long enough to face him and remember what all had happened, it wouldn't make any difference.

Morticia was terrible and she deserved to feel terrible.

Without a word to him, she turned her gaze to the floor and shifted her feet forward to walk past him. Maybe he would leave her alone, but she knew he wouldn't. She could feel it, feel the tension in the air, and she wasn't surprised when he reached out to grab her arm as she moved past him, stopping her from exiting the kitchen, something that would have made her flinch in horror had he done it any other time, but she was so exhausted from crying all day, all she did was sigh.

His grip wasn't harsh. He wasn't digging his fingers into her like she was used to him doing, which was normally a sign he was pissed off, so she could at least find some relief he wasn't angry right now. But, she felt it when he rubbed small, almost insignificant circles into her with the pads of his fingers, and it should have made her scared--and it did--but she was also too tired to argue with him anymore. She was too tired to deal with this right now.

If he wanted to drag her back to the bunker, she probably wouldn't fight him. That was horrible, it was so horrible she was so used to kicking, screaming, and pushing against him, because he was always so violent, but for him to touch her gently like this, it only made her resign to herself that it was going to happen. If she kicked and fought with him, that was wasted energy on her part. It wasn't ever going to end in her favor, she was never going to win. She could fight him until it killed her, but he was always going to win.

So, what was the point in fighting anymore?

When he moved close to her and she could feel his body slide up against hers until she felt him, could smell him, practically drowned with him in all her senses, it made her skin crawl. No matter what he did, she always felt repulsed when he touched her, when he came close to her, and if she really had seduced him or secretly wanted this from him, then why did this make her react in such a way? Why did he make her want to vomit all the time, and why couldn't she just become the piece of shit she really was and like it? If she was truly like the rest of the Mortys who did this, why couldn't she bite down the disgust she felt and enjoy it?

He reached around her front, and her entire body shivered when he went to pull at the end of her shirt, exposing the very bottom of her stomach just ever so slightly, but it pushed her back to reality at what was happening and what--and where, he was doing this. She nabbed his wrists to stop him.

"W-wait, Rick. I-I--um--" She swallowed, trying to wet her throat. "I-I'm really tired, c-can we p-please n-not do this right now?"

His voice was low and raspy next to her ear. "Relax. I-I'm not gonna make y-you do anything."

As he tried to wriggle his hands from her grip, Morticia refused to let up, the fear gripping hold of her chest and constricting when she could feel the fear take hold. They were in the kitchen, and someone could walk in on them at any second. "S-someone is g-going to see us." The pathetic way her voice rolled out, so quiet as she tried to whisper, and she felt gross just saying that, but she couldn't help it. It was the truth after all. She didn't want to be seen like this, especially like this. And to think he had the gall to touch her like this in the house of all places, where it was unsafe, where anyone could walk in, where anyone could hear them. He really didn't give a fuck.

"Then c-come to my room."

She froze. His room? She was surprised he didn't pull out the portal gun and whisk them away to the bunker again--but, his room? It was still in the house, still with the risks of being caught, and she immediately protested, still pulling at his hands when he instead let go of her shirt and began to tug on her arm, tug her toward his bedroom.

"W-wait, Rick, I--" She tried to pull away from him, hating herself--fucking hating herself that she was starting to wish he would just take her to the bunker instead of this. Why was he wanting to do this here anyway? Was the thought of sneaking around exciting for him? Or was it just a way to torture her even more? "Th-they could s-still hear us..." Her voice was so quiet, as she spoke so low, the fear of someone hearing her even say that out loud was terrifying.

And when he turned to her, hand still gripping her arm, the look he gave her--not out of anger, or frustration, or even sarcasm that he was so prone to do--but expectancy. "Then, you'll just have to be quiet, won't you?"

The words cut into her like something physical. That's why he was doing this. That's why he was taking her to his bedroom--so she wouldn't fight him. So she wouldn't scream and push and kick and tear at him and beg for him not to do this. If he took her to his bedroom, an unsafe place, she would be forced to be silent, or else risk having Mom and Dad hear, having Summer hear. He was going to force her to do this without a fight.

But.

She had already resigned herself earlier. She had already given up before he even started, before she knew where he was taking her, that she wouldn't fight, because she just didn't want to anymore. Morticia knew how it was going to end. And that was fucked up, that was so fucked up to think she had already told herself she was going to let him do whatever he wanted, she didn't care. Because she was just so tired. As long as he got it over with and let her go back to her room, she didn't care anymore, because she was so emotionally exhausted today, and maybe she deserved it. Maybe if he did this, it would serve her right for what she did to Jessica.

Tears formed in her eyes, but she always felt stupid for crying in front of him, even though she'd cried in front of him so many times before in the past. "T-take me to the bunker, Rick." She couldn't believe she was saying this to him. The thought of her ever uttering these words in the past would have made her sick. "I-I promise I won't fight you. T-take me there. I-I-I don't w-want anyone to h-hear, okay? Th-they're gonna f-find out. Y-you c-can't do this i-in the house." Her words rose with slight hysteria the more she spoke, and the more it made her chest tighten as she said what she had to say.

He looked taken aback for a moment, as if surprised she would ever beg to be taken back to that place, but it didn't last long. He was still holding her arm, still refusing to let go, and he only continued to coax her gently from the kitchen, down the hall and to his room. "I-I won't let them hear, o-okay. Stop worrying so much."

And she reached up to rip at his sleeve, gripping it so hard, he was pulled back from his stance, and he stumbled on his feet for a few seconds, whipping his head around to look at her in surprise. She gripped his sleeve so tight she could feel her nails digging into her palm through the material, and she pulled him as close to her as her strength would allow, begging, pleading at him with her eyes, with her entire body. "Rick, please." She was begging, she was fucking begging him. Her hands were shaking as she gripped the sleeve of his coat, as she held him close to her, desperate, so desperate, she was never this desperate before. "Please don't do this here, please, please, don't."

She had never seen him at a loss for words like this before. The look on his face--he wasn't angry at her, but he looked surprised that she was freaking out this bad. At first, he only stared back at her, silent as she stood gripping his sleeve and shaking, holding onto him and desperate for him to give her mercy. But then, he reached up, still gentle, still so strangely gentle as he took her hand and removed it from his coat sleeve, before holding her hand in what she could only imagine was reassurance. "I-I have a device that can cancel the sound barrier in any room. I'll-I'll turn it on for you, okay? N-nobody's going to hear us, Morti. You'll be safe, okay?"

He was still so determined to do this in his bedroom, but she had gotten him to compromise. That was rare. It was better than feeling exposed, and she should have felt terrible that what he said actually made her relieved. It shouldn't have, but it did.

She nodded, letting her stance fall submissive as he pulled her along to his bedroom, still with a gentle grip on her hand. She followed, not pulling back anymore, not fighting him, because there was no point. He was going to do what he did, when he wanted, and she probably deserved it anyway.

When she entered his bedroom, noting how it was basically a cluttered version of the garage but with a bed, she felt exposed for some reason. He let go of her hand to close the door and she reached up to hold onto herself instead. It felt better to hug herself and feel small than to feel--this way. She watched him lock the door with some type of computerized security lock attached to the handle before he reached over to a small black box that was blinking red. He punched in a code on the keypad and the light flashed green, signifying something was activated.

He turned to her after this. "Th-that's the sound barrier. It's on. Nobody c-can hear anything w-we do in this r-room, and n-nobody can open the door and-and walk in on us."

He may as well have taken her to the bunker. This was just extra work on his part, but she knew in the back of her mind that this was probably some cheap thrill for him, to do this in the house. At least he had taken some precautions for her sake. After she begged him to. Even though she deserved this and didn't care what he did to her, the idea of Mom walking in on them while they did this killed her. She didn't know how she could ever handle that, and the thought alone made her sick to her stomach.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when he reached out to grab her arm, she flinched for a moment, the initial fear taking her, but he didn't pull or yank her down or anything. Still being gentle, he tugged her toward his bed and she had no right to protest when he sat her down next to him.

He'd said he wasn't going to make her do anything, so all Morticia could really do was sit there and cringe when she felt his hand come up behind her and tug at the bottom of her shirt, exposing her stomach. The air felt cold, something she noticed immediately, but he wasted no time in turning to her, moving his face into her neck, and kissing her throat. It was a strange place for him to always move to when he wanted to kiss her, a very vulnerable place, as he could just open his mouth, tear into her flesh at any moment, and that would be it. But, maybe knowing this was enough for him.

Morticia froze when she felt his mouth against her there. It never failed the second she felt his teeth brush against her, she had passing thoughts of him actually biting into her and drawing blood, but he wouldn't do that as long as she didn't fight him. If she remained submissive, he would be gentle with her. If he wanted.

She really didn't know anymore. But, it wasn't like she had the energy, or the will, to even fight him right now. When she'd be pushing against him in the past for doing this to her, right now--she just couldn't. Even knowing the sound barrier was up, she sat there, letting him kiss her, move his hands up the back of her shirt until she felt his fingers brush the spine of her back, making her shiver.

When he took removed his hand from the back of her shirt to run down her arms, meaning to cup her hand, he gripped something she had forgotten she'd been holding onto this entire time, and having him grab it only reminded her.

"The hell?" He pulled the oreos away from her hand, staring at the cookies like he didn't know what they were. "You're still holding those?"

"I-I was gonna--" She had to swallow to wet her throat. "I was gonna eat them, b-but--" That's right. She still hadn't eaten all day, but now she didn't think she could anymore. Being here, wrapped in his arms with her neck wet from where he'd kissed, she felt too disgusted to have an appetite anymore.

Without waiting for her to finish, he took the cookies and placed them on the bedside table to get them out of the way, before turning back to the hand she was holding them in. Bits of chocolate from the cookies were scattered over her palm and she moved to pull her hand from his hold and wipe it on her jeans, but he tugged her wrist, stopping her.

Any resistance she had was null, but it wasn't like she could do any damn thing about it. When he lifted her hand to his mouth, for a second, she was stricken with confusion at what he was about to do, and a dip of fear at the thought he was going to bite the shit out of her. She didn't really understand where this fear came from of him biting her, but it was a strange initial reaction to the weird things he did. But, when he licked the chocolate off her hands, kissing the spots he licked, it made her stomach dip at the feeling.

No matter what he did to her, she felt disgusting. Having his tongue on her, whether it was her neck, her mouth, or her hands, made her cringe at the feeling, made her feel like she had to jump up and take a shower immediately to wash the feeling of his mouth off of her. Somehow, it felt more invading than when he fucked her, because at least then she could focus on the pain for a while. His tongue was wet and warm, and it was disgusting.

Even at this, with his mouth on her hands, she felt her shoulders bunch up uncomfortably as she sank into herself, as she couldn't help the way she was feeling when he did this. Why did she have to feel this way? Why did she have to feel gross? If the other Mortys loved this so much, why couldn't she like it too? If it was meant to be punishment, and if she deserved it, then she didn't deserve to think of things like this. She should have been ashamed of herself for wishing she liked it.

She wished she liked it.

He moved back into her, pulling her close until he almost had her in his lap, but he'd moved his head back into the crook of her neck where she felt him kissing again. With his hands moving up the back of her shirt, she could feel him attempting to unclip the back of her bra as he did so, and a thought crossed her mind. Maybe it was because she was so exhausted, maybe because she was so tired, she didn't know, but she found her voice coming out as he kissed at her, as he finally unhooked her bra and she could feel the tension on her chest break away.

"Rick, can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" His voice was muffled as he sucked at her neck.

A wave of unpleasant shivers ran up her back when she felt his hands on her bare back, as she could feel his nails dragging down just gently enough to make her shiver.

"Y-you have to be honest with me, okay?" Her chest felt tight even without her bra clipped.

"Yeah? What?" He momentarily stopped kissing to answer, but she felt his mouth, along with the heat of his breath, back against her neck.

"A-are you--d-do you hate me?"

He rose away from her, a little too fast, and almost knocked his head into her jaw when he did so, but the look on his face was hard pressed. He stared at her with utmost sincerity, something she wasn't used to. "Of course I don't hate you, Morti, why do you think I'm doing this?"

She felt like she'd stopped breathing for a moment when he said that. When she had to look away from him to focus on something--anything else. The rising of her heart rate was prominent when she felt it in her chest, when it pounded so hard, she was sure it was the only sound she could hear in that moment, deafening her, crushing her chest as it hurt so much.

Why do you think I'm doing this?

Those words cut through her like something she never expected. It would've been easier if he'd just said yes, he hated her, he hated her guts and wanted to watch her suffer in misery until she died. It would've been so much easier if he had told her what a horrible piece of shit she was to deserve this, that everything he ever did to her was just to show her that she didn't deserve happiness, and that she truly was lower than dirt.

It would've been easier to hear him say that.

Morticia sighed.

He really was never going to stop, or get bored with her, or toss her away like trash. She was going to live out the rest of her life this way, not being able to like other people because he was too jealous, not being able to open up to Mom ever again out of fear that she would shun her and tell her this was her fault.

And it was her fault. This was all her fault. She didn't deserve to be saved.

She nodded in resignation because it was all she could do at this point. He pulled her into an awkward hug from their position on the bed and she let him. Morticia didn't have any more energy left in her to fight, and fighting him to begin with was pointless. She never won. No matter how many times she told him no, she didn't want this, he could go fuck himself, he wouldn't let her go. Morticia was never going to get away from him.

When he pulled away from the hug long enough to kiss her on the mouth, she cringed only for a moment, closing her eyes and trying to ignore how painful it was to sit here. Because what was the use in fighting anymore?

It was going to happen. And it was less painful to accept it that way. It was less painful than fighting a losing battle, than pushing and screaming until she was hoarse, screaming for him to stop when she knew damn well he wouldn't.

She let him kiss her, let him pull her shirt over her head, dispose of her bra, she let him tug her toward him until she was sitting in his lap, straddling him, her top exposed. Morticia let him kiss her again, pull her forward into a tight hug until she was pressed so far up against him, she felt every wrinkle in his clothes on her bare skin, felt the shivers his body made as he touched her, as he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling only enough to pull her head to the side where he could kiss her neck, felt the bulge form underneath her from his pants when he started getting aroused.

"G-god, Morti, you're so beautiful."

He always said that. It was a strange compliment, one that made her sick when she first heard him say it, but now it was only becoming noise from his mouth. Just another sound he spewed. She didn't respond, as there was no way to respond to something like that, so she sat there in his lap, seizing up for only a moment when she felt him grind into her through his clothes. She felt his erection press through, rubbing against her jeans, and he moaned when he did so, but she tried to ignore it. Tried not to think too hard about it.

Why do you think I'm doing this?

It was impossible, no matter how hard she tried, not to think about it. Even as she felt him grinding into her, each time he made that horrible noise, the fear gripped her until she couldn't stand it, and she reached up to hold onto his shoulders, hating that she flinched, that she whimpered in his lap, but she couldn't help it. "R-Rick." Her voice was shaking, and she sounded like she was about to break down and cry any second. "I-I'm scared, Rick." It was so stupid to say, because this had already happened so many times before, but it was the truth. She doubted he could do this fifty, a hundred times over, and she would still be scared each time. There was no point in pointing out the obvious, because it wasn't like he was going to stop.

But, maybe she just wanted reassurance, even if it had to come from him.

He kissed the side of her face, pulling her close for another hug, and spoke gently to her. "D-don't be scared, baby, I won't hurt you."

Maybe if he did do this a hundred times she would finally get used to it. She hated thinking this was something she would eventually get used to, but maybe it was better to think that now than try denying it wasn't going to happen.

He spoke again, moving to pull her hair behind her ear before tracing his fingers down her shoulder. "You don't have to worry, okay? I-it's going to feel good. Okay?"

This was supposed to be his reassurance. This was supposed to make her feel better. And given how things were going, she couldn't afford not to take it. It was all she had.

Morticia nodded, trying not to break down into sobs again. She was so tired. Too tired to fight. Too tired to think. She shouldn't have been scared.

He pulled her away from his lap then, laying her down onto his bed where he crawled over her. It was almost agonizing how he was drawing this out, but she didn't have any choice. Even if she chose to stand up and run, he had a combination lock on the door and there wasn't much place to run away from him in his own bedroom.

Morticia was too tired to run from him. There was no point. If she chose to fight now, even with the sound barrier up where nobody would hear, what good would that do her? He'd win, he'd get angry, he'd get violent with her, and she would go to school with cuts and bruises on her because she had to be stupid and think there was a way out of this.

She looked away as he unbuttoned her jeans. It would be so much easier if she just liked it. No matter how fucked up that was, how horrible it was to think about, she wished she wasn't disgusted by this, wished she could enjoy the sex long enough to ignore the fact this was her grandpa, and enjoy it.

Because that was so much easier than this.

Her underwear was pulled away, and she was exposed before he positioned himself between her legs. She wanted him to fuck her and be done with it. Get what he wanted and let her go back to her room with relief at least she hadn't gotten something out of this too. There was always guilt whenever he decided to pleasure her--because she knew it would feel good. He always made it feel good. If that didn't feel good for her, she could have denied this far more easily than if he just hurt her and left her.

Why do you think I'm doing this?

He pulled her legs apart, but she didn't resist. There was the initial muscle reaction to pull her legs together to keep him away, but he would only force her. It was less stress on her part if she didn't resist him. And he could be gentle with her if he wanted.

And when he bent over to put his mouth on her, she only grunted out of the feeling of his tongue against her clit. It always felt so weird at first, when he touched her down there, but it would feel good later, she knew it. She knew it was going to feel good, because she would often touch herself to the thought of Jessica and come to thoughts like that.

Other Mortys were supposed to be crazy over him. Why didn't she ever touch herself to the thought of him if she was supposed to like it? If she was like them, why would she always think of her crush instead?

She couldn't remember a single time she ever thought of him that way. A single time she touched herself to him at night, or even thought about him like that on the norm. He was always just her loud, rude, crude grandpa. And he'd never been anything more to her than that.

She used to want to be like him. After being called stupid so many times, she wanted to be smart like him, build inventions like him, and wished he would give her the benefit of the doubt long enough to teach her what he knew without getting frustrated she couldn't understand basic algebra, or chemistry. She could do it if he took the time to teach her, if he didn't expect so much work out of her like school did. She wasn't stupid. She didn't want him to think she was a moron incapable of doing basic tasks.

Maybe she did want attention from him. Maybe she wanted acknowledgement. Maybe she put her feelings across in the wrong way and accidentally seduced him in the process just because she wanted him to stop undermining her and thinking less of her just because she was a girl Morty.

She didn't want this.

This was too much.

She never wanted this kind of attention from him, this much attention, this type of sexual relationship with him. Maybe they did. Maybe the other Mortys were crazy for their Ricks, and this kind of thing was okay for them. They could be happy.

She didn't know why she didn't want it. Maybe something was wrong with her.

Even as he was below her eating her out, making her moan uncomfortably until it started feeling so, so good that she gripped his hair and pulled, she hated it. She hated he was the one doing this to her, making her feel this way. It was supposed to hurt, but it didn't.

It crawled higher, and higher, until she was about to come, until her legs were almost wrapped around him, as she didn't know what to do with her body with all these feelings hitting her at once.

Morticia was emotionally exhausted, and Rick was draining her dry of everything she had to give right now.

It hit her all at once, as she came in his mouth, moaning when she did so, no longer afraid of being quiet with the sound barrier activated. If he was telling the truth, but she had no reason to distrust him right now. After all, it didn't really matter.

She spasmed on the bed, writhing beneath him, and felt his mouth suck at her to ride her out as long as possible. In that moment, she didn't care. She let him. She let the feeling engulf her and she rode with it, letting it consume her, enjoying that feeling that she just blacked out for a moment as she slowly came down, as she moved into him to make him press against her harder--and she didn't care.

She didn't fucking care.

Not a few moments passed and she could hear him undoing his zipper. There was always a moment of fear to catch in her chest when she heard that sound, as it meant pain wasn't far behind, but she swallowed it down. There was no point in being scared, or thinking too hard about it.

He seemed desperate in that moment, as he tugged at the inside of her thigh to pull her legs apart, before inserting his fingers into her. It didn't hurt, it never did, but it didn't stop her from cringing and feeling invaded.

He scissored back and forth, making her moan uncomfortably at first, but eventually pulled his fingers from her. She could feel him when he pressed the tip of himself against her, and that fear gripped her for a moment.

Only a moment.

If she didn't fight, this wouldn't hurt so much. If she lay here and took it, he would get it over with faster, and she could leave. Maybe he would let her come again, and she could try to enjoy it, to get used to it then. Because, Morticia didn't have much choice in getting used to it, and trying to like it at this point.

She had to.

She took a breath as he pushed into her then, and focused on breathing. It was hard to do at first, as the pain from having him go inside always made her hiss out through her teeth, but he shushed her. Not out of annoyance, but gently. She'd slammed her eyes closed, not wanting to watch him, not wanting to look at his face, and tried to focus on something other than this. It was impossible, as he was slowly coming in and out of her, and it made her freeze up every time she felt his thrusts increase in speed.

She was so caught up in this position, with Rick pulling himself in and out of her, that when she heard someone knock on his door, and the small voice that followed afterward, calling out, "Dad? Are you awake?" it made her seize up in horror when she recognized the voice of her mother.

Her breathing caught in her throat all at once and she choked out a strangled gasp, thinking that Rick would immediately pull out of her and stop, but he was still going. Still slowly easing his way in and out of her. He only looked over at his door like it was a slight annoyance to him before he fumbled around the messy bed covers for something. After a few seconds of awkward reaching around in the dark, Morticia watched as he pulled a small black remote from under the wrinkles in the blanket and he pressed a button.

The light from the box next to the door, the sound barrier, turned red again, signifying it was turned off, and Morticia panicked. Mom could hear them now, she could hear, and she almost erupted into a fit of hysteric sobs had Rick not reached over to clap his hand over her mouth and silence her.

"Wh-what is it, sweetie?" And he was talking to her so casually, as he didn't stop, as he continued to thrust himself in and out of Morticia. It was if nothing was wrong, he was so nonchalant talking to Beth through the door like this. It was fucking horrifying for Morticia to lay there and watch, with his focus still being on the door, with his hand over her mouth, preventing any noise she might make, while also refusing to stop fucking her at the same time.

And Beth's voice came back through the other side of the door, sounding both tired and worried. "Is it alright if I talk to you about something?" She jiggled the handle then, only to be denied entry, but that didn't stop Morticia from panicking below Rick and struggling underneath him.

She wanted to get out from under him now. She couldn't believe he was still doing this while talking to her mom--and so calmly too.

But, he took his opposite hand and held her down by her arm, gripping her hard enough that his nails dug in--a very clear sign to stop. She took a moment to remember to breathe, and stopped wriggling underneath him. It would only complicate things if she made a scene now. And it would be her fault if Mom heard her like this. She was going to be the reason Beth found them out--if she fought him now.

"I-I can't now, sweetie. We'll talk in the morning, okay?" He slowly pulled out of her, almost painfully, and she had to reach up and grip the arm he was using to cover her mouth to have something to hold onto, something to squeeze with her hands, as he went back inside of her, and it hurt. It hurt, she was going to cry out from the pain if he didn't stop.

She could hear Beth's sigh from the other side of the door. "Okay." Before her footsteps died down the hallway.  And it was such a simple thing, but almost infuriating. That Rick could say anything to her mom and she obeyed him without question. Morticia couldn't believe it. There was no way she could ever talk to her mom about this and not have it thrown back in her face. No goddamn way.

He flicked the remote again, turning the sound barrier back on, and when the light turned green, focused his attention back to Morticia where he finally rose his hand away from her. "Easy on th-the freaking out there, M-Morti." He was still thrusting in and out of her, having not broken his rhythm once, not even when Beth interrupted him. There was no way he could possibly have known that would happen, right? Was the idea of being found out exciting to him? Is that another reason he wanted to do this here? She could feel it--fucking feel it in the way he pushed into her when Beth was talking to him, slow and deliberate, like he was enjoying it way too much.

It was horrifying, to think that Rick was enjoying this. That he enjoyed the other family members knowing nothing about what he was doing with her.

She wanted to get angry with him and argue, but anything she had to say to him was gone. It wouldn't matter. Arguing would only result in more pain for her. She risked getting him angry if she argued, and he would hurt her if he did.

Morticia wasn't sure how much longer she could handle having to cover up the random bruises. She said nothing, she let him continue fucking her slowly onto his bed, and she lay back and tried not to focus on cringing so much as he did so, as he started moaning, gripping her thighs as he pushed in and out of her.

She tried so hard to like it.

Yet even as he reached over to finger her clit and give her pleasure, Morticia only gritted her teeth and lay back on the bed, trying to wait it out. It was only waiting for him to finish at this point, and she wasn't sure if she could come anymore. There wasn't much feeling to what he was doing to her, not like before when he ate her out.

"G-god, Morti." His voice was choked, raspy as he fucked her, as he went into her over and over again.

She wondered if she could ever get used to this, to him. Being with him forever, having to do this forever, she wondered if she could learn to like it. Because, she was going to have to. There was no more Jessica, no more relationships, no more crushing on people. No more thinking she had a normal life to live.

And she gave way to the feeling when his touching eventually started feeling good. He seemed desperate for her to come with him, and as she felt her orgasm build, she moved with him. Each time he thrust, she moved, until she matched his rhythm, and was fucking herself on him in return.

It felt good, but she didn't feel good. She never felt good. And she didn't know why. She wanted to like it, she wanted to like it so bad, because it would be so much better than hating herself all the time and feeling disgusting and being a piece of shit.

She almost sobbed when she came again, when she pushed herself down on him so hard, because it felt so good then, it felt so, so good, and he felt good, and she wanted it to hurt too, but it wasn't good enough. And he grunted, pushing back with her when he came.

He mumbled nonsensical things, but she made out when he started rambling at her again. "F-fuck, Morti, you did good. You did so good, baby, y-you're grandpa's good girl."

And it should have made her sick.

But, she didn't deserve that anymore.

Morticia didn't even deserve to feel disgusted anymore. She lay under him, her high gone, the feeling of his cum between her legs prominent when she could feel it coming out of her, and she wanted so bad to be sick right now. Even that was too good for her.

He moved himself off her, breathing hard for a few moments, the only sound in the room being his heavy breathing, and she lay on the bed, naked, exposed, feeling gross but wishing she could have said it was good too. She could admit then she was truly a piece of shit if she had loved that.

"D-do you--um--" He broke off for a moment, as his breathing turned low and steady. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Her heart pounded in her chest, way too hard, and she wanted to vomit, but she couldn't. It was shocking he was asking her this, letting her make a choice instead of forcing her to do something for once.

But, her answer was instant. "N-no."

"Okay."

It was so unusual for him to give her this much liberty, to allow her a choice in whether or not she wanted to stay with him. It was confusing, but if he was going to let her have a choice for once, she was going to take advantage of it.

He stood from the bed, over to the security system next to the bedroom door and unlocked the coded lock for her, before walking back to the bed. She wasted no time in standing from the bed, gathering her clothes he'd tossed to the floor and dressed herself as quickly as she could, resulting in a lot of awkward stumbling, but as she pulled her shirt over her head, she caught sight of something placed on his dresser across the room.

She wasn't sure why it caught her eye. But, sitting there on his dresser she could make out a bag of what looked like tiny white pills. She wondered if that's what he'd been using to drug her before, and she looked away from them, preferring to forget the mornings she'd wake up hungover from the effects of that stuff.

He said nothing to her when she made her way out of his bedroom and into the dark hallway. Nobody was around, and she could only assume everyone was asleep, but that didn't stop her from heading straight to the bathroom to strip her clothes and shower.

Maybe she didn't deserve to feel clean afterward, but she couldn't help it.

As she stood under the stream of hot, way too hot water, she touched under the spots of her arms, wondering over and over again if this made her a terrible person. Because maybe fighting was only going to result in something much worse down the road.

But, maybe she could get used to this. If she stopped fighting him--she closed her eyes, not wanting to cry when she thought about it--if she stopped fighting and thinking she was going to be saved, she could make herself like it. Morticia could like this one day.

She had to.

 

 

Chapter Text

Morticia hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Not that it was anything new. At least she could find some small relief she wasn't waking up drugged out of her mind and hungover, but getting a little sleep once in a while would've been nice too. Mom started taking notice of how she wasn't eating as much either, but she couldn't find it in her to have much of an appetite anymore.

Every time she had a full plate of food in front of her, she nibbled a bit on her mashed potatoes, maybe ate a couple of peas, and she felt full. It never failed that she excused herself from the dinner table way too early, always too early, and Mom gave her that worried look, before asking her what was wrong.

"Nothing."

Mom would stand from her chair, feel her forehead, and ask if she was sick.

No, she wasn't sick.

Even Dad started to take notice. "Maybe we should take her to the doctor." To which Mom would respond that her dad could just give her medicine, which resulted in Jerry arguing that Rick wasn't a goddamn doctor, and then they would both begin arguing until Morticia slipped away back to her bedroom.

It never failed. It was becoming the norm, to skip dinner, avoid those worried glances her parents, and even her sister gave her from time to time, and having to lie when asked what was wrong. That was normal. That's what was normal.

Even now, after she had been whisked away from her room, she always wound up back in his bedroom, back in the dark, cramped space of his room with his weird inventions scattered around the place and the random blinking lights from the devices against the wall after he'd turn the sound barrier on, locking them up inside where no one could interfere. Even now, as she straddled him, when he lay down before her, propped up by a pillow behind him as he moved her up and down on top of him by gripping her thighs, that was normal.

Morticia could never look him in the face. If she ever dared to, it would only make her break down and cry. He always had the scariest look on his face when he did this to her. If she looked at him, with his cheeks flushed and his eyes lidded, as he moaned her name over and over, as he fucked himself inside of her, she couldn't handle it. No matter how often he did it, she couldn't handle it.

She closed her eyes, waiting, always waiting for it to be over, and hoping if she submitted long enough to give him what he wanted, he would take it and be done with her. It was quicker that way. Morticia had discovered that questioning him and resisting only resulted in more pain from her end. She could ask him all day long why, but he would never give her a straight answer. He would just hold her in his arms and say this was the way things were.

And really, she had no choice but to believe him. It's the way things were.

He thrust inside of her, and she moved with him. In this position, on top of him, it was strange to be the one on top, but honestly, nothing he did was more or less worse than the other. Morticia could have been underneath him and felt smothered. She could have been the one riding him and felt uncomfortable, but it wasn't like he cared. But, she couldn't watch herself do this, even though she could feel his nails digging into her thighs harder--harder, as he moved her when she wouldn't move fast enough for him. If she wasn't moving the way he wanted, he moved her body for her. It's the way things were.

And he never stifled his moans, no matter how horrible they were. He groaned out her name, moving into her way too slow, until it was almost painful, but she bit back the pain in favor of keeping her eyes snapped shut so she wouldn't have to watch his face, knowing exactly what kind of expression he had--and his voice was strangled underneath her.

"Y-you've been doing so g-good, Morti. Y-you're such a good girl for grandpa, d-do you know that? Y-you're so good."

It made her skin crawl. She wished he wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't say those things to her, no matter what he was doing, how awful he was being--it was too much for her. She bit her lip so hard, she was surprised she didn't draw blood when she cringed at his words. It didn't matter. It really didn't, but she couldn't help but feel disgusting at what she was doing, how she was letting him manipulate her body like this.

She was supposed to be fighting back, fighting him off her, screaming for help and punching him, kicking him, screaming at him until he left her alone. That's what people were supposed to do when this happened--right? That's what Morticia was supposed to do. If she wasn't doing that, maybe she really wanted this.

But, there was no point. She knew that.

He pushed himself up into her so far, it was painful, and she couldn't help the small yelp that crawled its way from her throat. Why after all the times he's done this did it still hurt sometimes? Wasn't she supposed to get over that? Wasn't it supposed to stop hurting after a while? She hissed in pain when he pulled back out, pulling her up by her thighs when he did so, only digging his nails into her, and she knew there would be marks there. He wasn't being violent with her, but he was definitely being a lot more rough than usual. She had to grip onto something and hold, squeeze with her hands. It was a useless gesture, but maybe not. It would help her concentrate and ignore the feeling of him inside of her.

He hadn't bothered to take his clothes off. He never usually did. He was under her, fully clothed, his coat flared out underneath him, his pants unzipped and only pulled down far enough where he could fuck her comfortably. She gripped his pants leg, squeezing it between her fingers, for something to hold onto, as bad as her position was, it was the only thing she could really hold onto when he pulled her back down onto him and she yelped again. It was hurting so bad for some reason. Maybe he was even doing it on purpose, but she didn't know.

And it was made only more horrible by the fact she was completely naked above him. He got to keep his clothes on, but not her. This wasn't a rule as far as she knew, as he sometimes didn't bother taking her shirt off half the time, but it didn't mean he didn't also strip her completely naked. As she bounced in his lap, it only made her aware that certain areas of her body were bobbing up and down with him. Maybe that's why he did this. To watch her. To watch her displayed in front of him.

That would be something he'd do anyway. There wasn't much liberty Morticia had in what happened in the bedroom anyway. Rick always did all the work. Whenever he wanted to, he pulled her back here, whatever position he wanted her in, he moved her body that way. If she resisted or fought him, he would get angry and force her. That's the way things were.

He was a lot nicer when she submitted to him. Maybe it was easier that way, but it didn't feel any easier. Morticia felt she was so used to fighting him that to bite her words back and cringe as he did this made her even worse than if she were to kick and scream. At least then she made it clear she didn't want it so bad, but now--

"Y-you gotta m-move with me, Morti. Come on--" His voice was strangled, as he started picking up his rhythm. He had been pulling her up and down by her thighs this whole time, and it was a rare time he was making her pick up the slack so to say. He wasn't going to let her sit there and take it this time, he was making her engage, and she fucking hated that.

The heat collected in her face all at once, and her eyes were still shut. All the feeling in her body from where he'd had his hands, when he lifted them from her thighs and instead, placed them gently on the very sides of her knees as she now sat in his lap. He was still inside her, but he stopped thrusting.

"C-come on, Morti, don't be scared. Just move up a-and down. Y-you can do it."

She didn't want to, she didn't want to--she didn't want to do this--but he would just force her and hurt her if she didn't comply.

With her arms shaking as she gripped the fabric of his pants for support, she squeezed as hard as she could, her face flushed with shame as she brought herself up, slowly, but the moan he made under her was unmistakable.

"Y-yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."

She was disgusting, she was fucking disgusting--she came back down, trying not to hurt herself, going slow, maybe too slow, but he thrust up into her as she came down, making her seize up for a moment and stop out of reflex. The initial reaction that there would be pain made her grit her teeth as she did this, so hyper fixated on the pain that she was too frozen to continue for a moment.

With her eyes closed as she sat frozen, she didn't see him reach up then, but she felt it--she felt it when his hand left her thigh and he grabbed her breast. The feeling was so sudden, and she didn't expect it, and her eyes snapped open when he did, when he squeezed her and she yelped in pain. Reaching up out of instinct, she gripped his wrist to make him stop, and he smiled at her.

"R-Rick, that hurts." Even though it didn't really. It was just the initial reaction to the pain that might have come if he squeezed her too hard. Morticia didn't know why she was so scared of pain, when she should have been used to it, but the fear made her seize up as she sat there gripping his hand.

The smile he gave her sent a horrible wave of chills down her spine. Through his lidded eyes, his flushed expression, the smile was what made her look away from him. She knew she shouldn't have looked at his face. "C-come on, Morti, don't b-be so s-sensitive." He then thrust into her in such a manner, moving his legs up and down, that she bobbed on top of him, and almost lost her balance, having to grip his pants to steady herself. "Keep going."

Once she'd balanced herself back out, Morticia focused her attention on something else. Something that wasn't him. Something like.

Like the pills on his dresser across the room. Still there, still wrapped in a plastic bag, an assortment of tiny white pills that hadn't been used in a long while, but were probably very potent alien drugs. Drugs he'd probably used to spike her food from time to time.

But, she brought her focus back to trying to remember he was expecting her to move on top of him, and she tried not to shake as she moved. Very, very slow, but she was trying. He couldn't expect so much out of her so fast, but here he was, making her do this.

He'd let go of her chest, gripping her thigh again to help her keep her balance when she moved, and she heard him moan underneath her. As long as he was placated, he wouldn't hurt her. As long as he was happy, she didn't have to worry about the violence, or the angry outbursts, or him hurting her on purpose.

If she did this, everything would be okay.

She moved, now shaking, not able to help that she was shaking, but moving faster, and he liked that, she knew he did, because he gripped her thigh tighter as he began to move with her. Thrusting up into her when she moved down on him, and pulling out when she moved up. They had created a rhythm, and she closed her eyes again when she had established this was how to move.

He reached over her then, running his fingers over her thighs, above her crotch, slowly down to her clit before he began to rub her, and she shivered at the feeling.

"M-Morti, look at me, Morti."

She opened her eyes, but kept her gaze downward, at the bottom of his shirt. She moved up and down, as he thrust into her, as he fingered her, and she felt as though her body had gotten hot all over.

"C-come on, look at me, Morti."

"I don't--" She bit her lip, feeling the heat gush from her cheeks as though it were radiating off her skin now. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she was sure he could hear it, maybe even feel it. "Rick, I don't want to."

"Look at me." And his voice dropped, no longer coaxing her along, no longer a gentle tug along, but now he was pulling, demanding from her. And she had no choice.

She looked up, fearful he would get violent with her if she didn't comply. And he did, he looked as though the moment she looked at him, if she hadn't done this, he would have just forced her anyway. His stare was hard, but the moment she looked up, he dropped it. He smiled at her then. It was gentle, but so misleading he could be this way. How could he be this way? How could he pretend to be gentle with her, but the second she defied him in any instance, no matter how small her protests were, grow angry and threaten to push her into it?

How could he do this to her?

The sobs were threatening to boil over any moment. She couldn't handle to see his face, to see that smile he was giving her, that misleading gentle way he looked at her as he was fucking her, as he pushed and pulled out of her, moaning her name, squeezing her thigh and fingering her clit, as she started feeling good too.

"That's it. Y-you're such a g-good girl, Morti. Y-you're a good girl."

It started feeling good, and she hated it. She was trying so hard to like it, but there was something deep inside her gut that screamed at her each time this happened--no matter what, no matter what lies she said to herself--if she ever liked this, then she truly would be trash. If Morticia ever really did like this, even if she lied and said she did, nobody would ever believe her. Nobody would before.

Nobody.

If she forced herself to like it, maybe it would be easier to ignore when her mother inevitably found out about this one day and called her a slut. Morticia could admit it then. Yes. She was a slut who asked for this, who seduced him, who wanted this--she wanted it so bad--she begged him for it.

She moved with him, as he moaned and she started shaking at the feeling he was giving her as he rubbed circles on her clit. Goddamn, why did he have to make it feel good? Why did this always feel good in the end when he did this to her? Maybe she really was a slut who wanted it.

She could feel herself move with him harder--harder--as he rubbed on her. It was becoming insatiable, this feeling that she wanted to climb higher and higher. She wanted to come so, so bad. Even if it had to be with him, while he was inside her, she didn't care. Morticia wanted release, wanted these pent-up emotions out of her, wanted to get it all out. She wanted to fucking come, and she moved down on him so hard, he grunted--she grunted, because she knew she was hurting herself doing this.

It was only fair. If she did this hard enough, she would bleed, she would tear herself hard enough to bleed, and then she would get the punishment she deserved, because she didn't deserve to have this feel good. It wasn't supposed to feel good. If he only hurt her and let it end, she wouldn't have to feel so guilty about her feelings. She wouldn't have to fight with herself that maybe she really did like this. If she didn't like it, she wouldn't come.

He felt good like this. So good. She moved and relished in all the feelings below her. She didn't fucking care right now. All she wanted to do was come. And it was reaching higher, higher, she was almost there. He felt so good inside her, and she was almost there--and he thrust into her again then, and she felt it. It hit her so hard, it almost knocked her breath out of her when she came. Morticia spasmed in his lap, grabbing his pants and holding on as she rode out her orgasm, moaning on top of him, letting the feelings take over her completely.

She didn't care if it felt good right now. She didn't feel guilty. Maybe that was okay. If it wasn't, then she didn't care. She didn't fucking care anymore. If Mom found out and called her disgusting and abandoned her--then that was her fault. Morticia would have to live with it. Nobody cared anyway, so what was the point?

He pushed into her, as she was still coming down, and she felt it when he came, when he grunted below her and called out her name in a raspy haze--when she had to watch as his face flushed, because he wanted her to look--and he gripped her thigh to hold onto when he let everything out inside of her.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just breathing. They were both spent, and Morticia had stopped shaking, now sitting on him and allowing herself room to breathe. It was okay to breathe now and forget what happened, and forget how she felt. She could just be here, breathing.

He then pulled himself from her, moving her in his lap as he sat up from the bed, and pulled her into him, in an awkward hug. When she was pulled into his chest, she could smell the ever-present scent of alcohol on him, even though he hadn't been drunk tonight. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen him drunk in a long time. The sound of his voice whispering in her ear cut her from her thoughts when he dragged his hands through her hair.

"You're good--you're so good, Morti." The low, raspy way his voice came out to her, after he'd come inside her, after fucking her, he always tossed around random compliments to her if she didn't fight him. If she did as she was told, then he was generous with the compliments and the praises.

She didn't hug him back. Could only sit there feeling suffocated as he held her for a while. However long he wanted to hold her, she had to stay. But, he would let her go eventually, she knew. Morticia could only sigh in his hold, as he pulled her in tight, as he mumbled random praises next to her, as he played with her hair and twisted it in curls around his fingers, as he held her tight as though not wanting to let go.

"H-hey...Rick?" Sometimes she thought of random questions to ask him. She wasn't sure why. They were things she worried about, and maybe he would offer clarification, maybe he would only give her more heartache. Maybe he would comfort her.

"Hmm?"

But, she couldn't help to think of these things, to think about her future. A future with him. "Wh-what's gonna happen when I--when I--you know.... Leave?"

He pulled back from the hug then, giving her a hard, if not slightly confused stare. "Th-the hell do you mean 'leave'?"

She fumbled over her words then, not wanting to stare at him, not able to climb out of the hold he had her in, with his arms still wrapped around her back, his hands still in her hair. Maybe she was going to have to get used to this too. "I-I mean--wh-when I graduate. M-Mom mentions me g-going off to college s-sometimes and m-moving out. S-Summer already has a-a school she wants to g-go to next year a-after she graduates. Sh-she's going to be moving out eventually." Her palms were sweaty, at the idea of her sister no longer being here. It meant she wouldn't have to fight for bathroom rights in the morning anymore, but--she didn't hate that. She didn't hate her sister.

"You don't need college." His reply was instant, if not a little stern.

It made her freeze, and she started rambling again, even as he moved down to kiss at her neck, she couldn't focus on that plus what he'd said. "B-but, Mom said--"

"I don't care what Beth is t-telling you. Y-you think college is g-going to help you get a job and y-you'll make it, b-but don't be stupid, Morti." He stopped kissing only long enough to ramble right back at her, but with each pause in between his words, she felt it--she felt him when he opened his mouth to suck against her neck and kiss the random spots as he sucked. It made shivers run down her spine, and his words made her feel as though she was going to vomit.

"B-but--" She couldn't even get her words out anymore. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"You're staying with me. W-we can go on all sorts of adventures then. I-I can give you everything you need, Morti. Don't worry about it. I-I've g-got so much money h-hidden away, y-you don't need a job. A-and anything they could teach you in college, I-I can just teach you i-if you want. I-I've already thought this out."

Her insides felt cold, her whole body feeling as though he'd dipped her into a vat of frozen water. She started shaking, as he kissed her, as he held onto her, as the thought of him taking her away from her parents after she graduated high school started to slowly sink in.

Somehow, it was much better when she was telling herself that. Before when she had resigned herself to this life, this life with him, where she had nothing but him--where he would never let her go--it was easier when it was only herself saying those things. But, to have him admit it. To admit he wasn't going to let her go to college after graduating. And maybe she thought that once high school was over, she would finally get away from him. She would have an excuse to move out of the house and she would never have to see his miserable fucking face ever again--she could deal with this if that were the case.

Morticia could have dealt with this until she graduated if she knew eventually she would be free. She didn't want this--didn't want to have to give up those future dreams that she wanted to move out and go to college, find a job, and make something of herself. She didn't want to fucking do that.

It was easier, it was so much easier to say she could put up with this, grit her teeth and bare it for the next four years if she knew eventually she would move out and be done with him. She wouldn't have to tell her parents, nobody would have to find out--she wouldn't have to face Mom and tell her that something was wrong. Morticia could have put up with it, could have learned to live with it, if that was the case. She could have done that.

But.

With his mouth on her, kissing her, while she sat in his lap, still straddling him, as he brushed his fingers through her hair--she wanted to vomit, she wanted to throw up and purge herself of these feelings.

Because the idea of him taking her away and forcing her to live with him after this was too much to bear. Morticia couldn't do that. Maybe before, when she was lying to herself that yes, she could do that. She could put up with it, if she gave up hope and lied to herself that she could like it and like him. She couldn't lie to herself anymore.

She didn't want this. She didn't want to do this.

She sat in his lap, about to crumble apart because the idea of never getting away from him--having him admit he had premeditated this whole thing and he was planning to keep her once she graduated--she almost broke down right then and there. Morticia almost lost everything and cried, sobbed, she wanted to sob her feelings out and vomit the bad ones. She wanted to hit and punch and scream and beg Mom for help. Wanted to run screaming to her even if she hated her afterwards and blamed her, she didn't care.

She just wanted this to stop. Morticia never wanted this. She never meant to seduce him, or to go along with what he wanted to do like this. She never wanted it. She never once wanted him to touch her, or to think of her this way.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she turned her face away when she felt him begin to kiss up the nape of her neck, toward her face. She couldn't handle kissing him right now. But, he would only force her if he really wanted to--and when she turned her head away from him, she spotted them once again.

The pills on his dresser. The little white ones in the plastic bag that were laying so carelessly out in the open like that, as though he had used them in abundance once, but they now lay forgotten. She saw them. She saw them.

And as he placed a hand against her cheek, to pull her face back toward him where he kissed her on the mouth, Morticia could feel her insides break apart at what she was imagining doing to him now.

He had used those on her.

She could use them on him.

If she really wasn't going to get the fuck away from him, and if he was so determined to take her away, even after she graduated, then she had no hope. So, there was nothing to lose, right? If there was nothing to lose, then it wouldn't matter if she drugged him, would it?

She could sneak back into his room when he wasn't here, take a few from the bag, because he would notice, he would definitely notice if she took the entire bag off his dresser, and she would have to wait for him to start drinking again. Then, she could crush them in his drink and he would drink it all, she knew he would drink it all. And when he was asleep, she could take his portal gun and open a portal to somewhere else.

Maybe another dimension where she could live a fucking normal life. Where he didn't exist. Where she could be with Jessica.

Her sobs caught in her throat, and she swallowed them as he broke away from the kiss in order to hug onto her again.

Because she didn't want to live out the rest of her life with him. She couldn't fucking do that no matter how she much she tried to lie and tell herself she could do this--Morticia couldn't. She couldn't. There was no goddamn way she would let him do this to her. If she had to navigate his stupid portal gun in order to find some shred of happiness in this miserable universe, she was going to do it, and he could go fuck himself.

While he hugged her, she took one more opportunity to look over at the pills on his dresser.

It was going to work. It had to work. Those things had fucked her up before, she had to believe they would fuck him up too and she could finally overpower him. She had to be brave and do this. She couldn't afford to fuck this up.

Morticia could do this.


 

There they were. Mere inches within her grasp.

She had waited, waited for the perfect opportunity to come into his room and grab the pills from atop his dresser, and it was an agonizing wait. Each time she approached his bedroom, it was either locked, or she spotted him lurking around close by. Morticia couldn't risk him finding her out, especially with what she planned to do with these.

It was days before she managed the snag a stroke of luck and find his door ajar, without him around for once. Morticia wasted no time in letting herself in, hoping he had nothing like security cameras or motion sensors of the like scattered around that would alert him to her presence. Well, it wouldn't do her any good to think that now. She had to be fast, even if he caught her, she had come up with a lie for why she'd be in his room. If he caught her, she would make up some stupid fat lie about how she was curious about one of the inventions she'd seen in here--even though she gave less than two shits about what he kept in his room.

She'd entered his room, looking down each side of the hall to make sure the coast was clear before ducking away inside and leaving the door cracked behind her. Morticia wasted as little time as possible before she grabbed the bag off his dresser and withdrew at least three pills from it. There was a whole mound of them inside, he wouldn't notice three missing. She hoped anyway. One would probably be enough to knock him unconscious, but she had no idea how high his tolerance was, especially after watching him get high on weird alien drugs before. For all she knew, he used this stuff daily and had trained his body to tolerate more of it.

But, she also didn't want to kill him by overdose. As much as she hated him and resented everything he had done, her goal was to knock him unconscious long enough for her to steal the portal gun from him and run away. She didn't really know what to do after that, but if she could get away from him long enough to formulate her plan afterward, it would give her time to think about what to do if she was safe from him. But, she couldn't live with herself if she knew she had accidentally killed him, no matter what he'd done.

Even though he probably deserved it, Morticia couldn't bring herself to do that. He could overdose on his own time, crash the ship while drunk on his own, hang himself in the garage for all she cared, but she would be damned if she was responsible for his death.

After snagging three pills from the bag, she stuffed them into her jeans pocket before zipping the bag closed and placing it back atop the dresser exactly as she had left it. There. He would never know. The bag still had plenty of pills inside, and there was no indication she had stolen anything. Unless he counted them like an obsessive, he wouldn't know she had taken them, and even if he confronted her about it, she'd just deny it to his face.

Stepping out from his bedroom, Morticia peeked both ways down the hall again, making sure she was absolutely safe and no one was around before stepping out from his room. Her heart was thumping in her ears, at the risk of being caught, even though she had thought it all out, but the chances of getting into his room unseen without the door being locked were rare, and she couldn't afford to fuck up the times he forgot to lock it when he left like this. If she was going to do this, Morticia had to do it right.

She found herself back in her own bedroom with no incident, and retrieved the pills from her pocket, cupping them in her sweaty palms. Despite not getting caught, she still felt like she hadn't gotten away with this yet. There was still the matter of how the fuck she was going to get this in his drink without him knowing. Or better yet, his flask since he was always sipping from that anyway. But, if she got him to drink, actually drink something heavy, that gave her a better chance of drugging him.

How was she going to do that?

He wasn't drinking as heavily as he used to, the times before when he would always need a drink before fucking her, he had all but stopped that. There were only a few incidents she had seen where he got frustrated with something and broke out the liquor, but--

She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump in her throat. She wondered if...if she could make him. If--if she asked him, maybe made out like she was curious about alcohol, or asked him for a glass of wine, if he would drink with her.

Her face flushed at the mere thought of her asking him to have a drink with her. Although, she seriously doubted he would turn her away if she went to him of her own accord like that. He'd probably love it. The shame took hold of her even more, as her face gushed red, but fuck it. If that's what Morticia was going to have to do in order to drug him, then she was going to have to be brave and do it.

She clutched the pills in her hand, feeling her palms grow sweaty all over again. If she was going to have to go to him and do this--wasn't that seducing him?

Morticia doubted she could manipulate him, but she would have to be convincing. If she could get away with this, if she could smash her pride down long enough to do this--that would mean freedom. She would have overpowered him and stolen his portal gun and then she could run away--even if the cost of that freedom meant she had to do something she didn't want to.

If she had to seduce him and fuck him in order to gain her freedom--she took a deep breath to steady herself--she would do it. She would be strong and she would bite back those terrible feelings long enough to do this. Morticia could do it. It wasn't scary. He wasn't scary.

She looked down at the pills, at the three white pills that sat stuck to her sweaty palms. First, she needed to crush the pills into powder. And she could spike his drink when he wasn't looking. That was going to be the tricky part, but she would come up with a plan for that later.

For now, she put the pills back into her pocket before exiting her room. It was Saturday, and the house was fairly quiet. Summer was out as usual, hanging out with her friends, and Mom and Dad were either downstairs, or doing who knew what. She had no idea where Rick was, but didn't really care as long as he didn't get in her way.

She made her way downstairs before passing by the living room where her parents were arguing about something on the couch, not noticing her, as she crossed the room and opened the door to the garage. Rick wasn't inside, and the ship was gone, which was unusual, but he'd been doing that a lot lately. It was a nice change, honestly, one she wished was permanent. He should go off by himself more often and leave, because at least she had some relief in the house knowing he wasn't there.

Well, if he was gone, then she had free liberty to go through his junk in the garage. All she needed was a small container, like a test tube, or something to put the powder in. Something she could hide in her pocket.

There was a box of random junk underneath his desk and she rummaged through it, thinking of another lie if he came barreling through the door in the ship and demanded to know why she was touching his stuff. She would just say it was for a school project. Morticia couldn't really afford to be sloppy with this scheme of hers, but she also figured if she played stupid, maybe he wouldn't figure her out. He thought she was stupid anyway, she may as well take advantage.

She ended up finding a small box of little plastic tubes inside that had caps on them. Perfect. He wouldn't miss one if she took it. It was perfect to hide the powder in, so she grabbed one, also stuffing that into her pocket as she placed everything back the way she had found it. God forbid he come after her later about touching his stuff. Making sure not one hair was out of place, Morticia pushed all the boxes back under his desk before standing and exited the garage.

Next, she grabbed a spoon from the kitchen, ignoring the arguing of her parents that had become background noise at this point, before she climbed the stairs again and locked herself up in her room.

It was time to get to work.

She cleared away the soda cans and random candy wrappings and the like from her desk and set herself down, bringing out the spoon and the pills from her pocket. Setting one down and being careful, as careful as she could, she started mashing it with the bottom of the spoon. It cracked underneath, into larger pieces, but she mashed until it cracked more, and more, until she had a powder. With each pill, Morticia cracked under the spoon until she had mashed it into as much of a powder as she could manage, and she gently swept the contents onto the dip of the spoon, filling it.

Carefully, she emptied it into the plastic tube, trying as hard as she could not to spill it. It would be easier with a funnel, a tiny funnel, but she couldn't afford to go looking for something that dumb in a moment like this. She picked up pieces of the powder she dropped with the pads of her fingers and sprinkled it into the tube. The bottom of the tube was completely white when she finished, and she capped the top, closing it tight so none of it could escape.

Then, she squeezed the tube in her hands, feeling shaky as she sat there staring at the small amount of powder that formed at the bottom. She was going to have to empty this into his drink, but would that be too much? Would it accidentally kill him? She thought for a moment, that maybe she should only sprinkle half the tube in his drink, and maybe even that was too much. Maybe three of those things were going to overdose him. She had no idea how potent these alien drugs were, as there was no labeling on the plastic bag. No dosage amounts. Morticia didn't even know if these were in fact, the drugs he had used to spike her with all that time ago, but they had to be something.

Honestly, as long as they got him incapacitated, he didn't have to be knocked unconscious. If he was high, so high that he didn't know where he was anymore, Morticia was confident she could still overpower him then. She was taking a huge risk stealing unlabeled drugs from him that she planned to lace his drink with, without knowing for sure what they even were.

But, she squeezed the tube again, she couldn't afford to back out now. Morticia had to do this. She had to do something. She didn't want him to take her away, didn't want to imagine, even fathom a life with him after she graduated high school, didn't want to think her life was going to be over once that happened, that she really would be stuck with him forever.

And she had no reason to not believe him when he said he would.

She sat at her desk, staring at the tube in her hands for what felt like hours, and maybe it had been, she didn't know. Didn't want to think too hard about it. Morticia was going to do this. If she wanted to have a future without him, she had to do this, and she had to be convincing.

Looking from her desk over at her clock, Morticia saw that six was encroaching. The sun had set not long ago, and she was only sitting in the gradual approaching darkness in her room, but she had to move. If tonight was going to be the night she did this, she had to make her move now.

Or, she could back out and only stress herself out further.

That didn't matter. Whatever mood he was going to be in when he got home, she would decide from there.

She stopped herself just as she rose from her chair, away from the desk.

If she got away with this--if Morticia actually managed to pull this off and drug him, steal his portal gun and escape to another dimension--that meant she wouldn't ever see her parents again. She was going to be leaving behind this world in favor of another one.

It wasn't like she'd never seen other Beths and Jerrys from other dimensions. They were all essentially the same, no matter what. But, part of her was dying inside at the idea she was going to leave them behind in favor of herself. She was being so selfish to do this, but she wondered if that mattered.

Mom wouldn't have to ever face the truth her father was fucking her, Dad would never have to face what was going on behind his back, and Summer would never have to know the person she looked up to as her hero was fucking her sister. None of them ever had to know that. She didn't want to tell them, have them blame her, have them know that.

Morticia pocketed the tube and felt her heart sink at what she was doing. Part of her thought she really could get away with this, but the other part didn't want to. She wanted to stay here, stay with Mom, with Dad, with her sister, and not have to worry about him. She wished he wasn't here, making her life a fucking hell for her--she wished he would just go fling himself into space and suffocate, and leave her alone, so that she could live her life in peace.

But, since he was never going to do that, she knew he wasn't lying when he said he would take her away after high school.

She probably wouldn't see her mom or dad again anyway after that. Would that really be so bad? If she escaped, would never seeing them, at least, these versions of them really be that bad? She wondered if she would end up in a dimension where there was no Rick, where her mother and father never fought with each other, and where nothing went wrong.

She couldn't think too hard about it, if she did, she would go insane. Morticia would lose her resolve and go insane if she thought too hard about it.

Clenching her fists, she walked from her room, and down the stairs. The light of the television flickered and cast shadows on the wall from the living room as she walked by. She passed the couch, where her parents were still sitting, having finished their argument at some point, and were peacefully watching some cooking show, and she was going to make a beeline for the garage, but she stopped.

This might be the last time she saw them. If her plan worked, if she pulled this off, because there was no goddamn telling if it was going to work or not. Morticia might fuck everything up, or she might not. There was no telling. But, if it worked, if by some slight chance she got away with this, she knew this would be the last time she saw them.

Turning, she watched them from behind as the light flickered off their silhouettes, and she almost welled up with tears at the thought of that. That this was going to be the last time she saw them, but that was okay. It had to be okay, because she couldn't afford to think too hard about it.

Wiping at her tears, Morticia walked around the front of the couch, stopping in front of her mom who smiled at her.

"Hi, sweetie, are you okay?" Mom always had that soft way of speaking to her, and it made her want to bawl her eyes out, but she couldn't.

She just nodded, and bent over to hug her mother. "M-Mom, I-I know I don't s-say it often, b-but I love you."

Mom hugged her back, running her fingers through her hair. "Aww, honey, I love you too. You sure you're okay?"

She nodded again. Don't think too hard about it. Don't think.

When she pulled away from Mom, she did the same thing to Dad, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. "I-I love you, Dad."

He seemed more taken aback, because Morticia was never a sappy, overly affectionate person with her parents, but he patted her back nonetheless. "Love you too, kiddo."

She faked a smile for him, trying with every ounce of her willpower not to break down and cry. They didn't have to know anything. This was something she had to do by herself, and nobody had to get hurt because she was too stupid to let this happen. Mom didn't have to know her father was a pervert, and Dad didn't have to know either.

Standing straight, she faced the garage door on the opposite side of the living room, and took a breath. "I-is Rick home yet?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah, he got home about an hour ago. He said he had to go buy tools from an alien planet. You know how he is."

Yeah. She knew how he was.

Morticia nodded. "I-I need help w-with my science homework. I-I'm gonna go t-talk to him." She hoped that was enough for them to know not to bother them, if it came to her schoolwork, maybe they would think nothing of it and leave it alone.

"Okay, honey, have fun."

She walked toward the door. The moment she walked through, it was all going to be over. Her plan was either going to work, or it wasn't. Either way, it wouldn't really matter if it worked or not. If she got away, she would be free, but if she failed and Rick caught on, he would just hurt her, but--it wasn't like she hadn't been hurt before. Morticia swallowed the lump in her throat away as she turned the door handle, trying to will some courage into herself as she did so.

She could do it.

She had to.

She could do this.

And opened the door.

Rick sat with his back to her at his desk, tinkering away at some device with a precision tool. A whole array of shiny new tools sat next to him, Morticia noticed, and as quietly as she could, walked inside and closed the door behind her. She knew he didn't like it when she spoke too loud from the doorway, as it broke his concentration, and she risked angering him if she did that, so she walked lightly on her feet until she was close to him.

Whatever he was building looked to be some kind of robot, or something of the sort, from what Morticia could make out, as she peered over his shoulder. He appeared deep in concentration, screwing in bolts and fixing in springs to the strange contraption, and the first thing she had to do before even going through with her plan was gauge his mood.

If he snapped at her, she would try again later. If he didn't give a fuck that she was hovering over him, she would keep going.

She was shaking, as nerves took hold of her, but she had to bite them down as much as she could. She had to be strong. It probably wasn't a good idea to do this when he was working, but she had already committed to this, and she was determined to fucking do this. Morticia wanted her plan to succeed so bad, she felt she was rushing, but if she backed down and waited, she was only prolonging the inevitable.

She swallowed for the umpteenth time that night, and closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a breath, one she was sure not to let him hear, before calming herself. Don't be so scared, he's not scary. She could do this. She could do it. Morticia was strong. She opened her eyes, letting out her breath, and walked in front of him.

He noticed her then, and brought his gaze up to her for a moment, and she smiled at him when he did.

He smiled back.

Her stomach did flips when she knew then, he was in a good mood. There was no backing out of this now. She had to keep going. Morticia could do it, she had already taken the first step, and there was no turning back now. If she fucked up--there was no telling what he'd do, but she wasn't going to fuck this up. She could do it. She had to. She had to seduce him.

"Wh-what are y-you building?"

"Nanobots. R-really just for cleaning. N-need something t-to get th-through the cracks in this pl-place and get some grime out." That was an odd thing for him to worry about, but nothing she had to concern herself over.

"Th-those tools look hard t-to use." She pointed to the silver set of tools next to him, which were small and looked like something a child would use, but he picked up a small screwdriver and shrugged.

"Y-you have t-to use small tools i-if you're making s-something small."

The conversation would only drag on in one direction if she didn't change topics now, but she couldn't be suspicious about it. She had to play it stupid, play it innocent. She felt a knot form in her stomach at the idea that there was no way he wouldn't catch on to her scheme, he would figure her out and start hurting her, but she couldn't falter.

"U-um, Rick?" She bit her lip, hoping, squeezing at the bottom of her shirt as she hoped he wouldn't catch on, wouldn't notice she was acting suspicious. She had to pretend to be dumb, pretend she was innocent. That was the only way she would ever get away with this, or hope to get away with this.

"Yeah?"

"D-do you think I-I could, um..." She bit her lip, looking down to the side as she tilted her head off, like a cat would. "Maybe...have a drink?"

She looked back up at him, trying to be as innocent as possible, her head still tilted as she looked at him as though she were stupidly curious.

He gave her a confused stare, before leaning away from his robot in favor of leaning back in his chair. "A drink? Th-the hell makes you th-think I'm gonna give you a drink? Y-you don't need one." Though, he looked off to the side as well, as though the idea was appealing, but she could see the look of uncertainty pressing his features.

She had to press him. If she talked it up, maybe she could sway him. Maybe. "I-I know, b-but, it's Saturday. I-I don't have anything to d-do and S-Summer's not here, and M-Mom and Dad are arguing, a-and I thought--thought, you know--"

He gave another hard stare. "No."

Then, she leaned toward him, and touched his arm, gripping at his sleeve ever so slightly, but made sure she gently stroked the side of his arm, and she could feel it. She felt it when he shivered underneath her touch and the fact she was even doing this to him made her want to retch, but she had to do this. "Please, Rick, pleeease? Wh-what if you drank with me?"

He froze then, both from how she was touching him, gripping at his arm, and pleading at him with her face, and her proposition. She knew. He would either call her straight out on her bullshit right now, or he would comply. Either way, Morticia could feel how hard her heart pounded in her chest, and she almost stopped breathing, as she waited for his answer.

Breaking his gaze away from her, she saw the flush on his cheeks, the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before he muttered, "F-fine." And she could feel the tension break away in her shoulders, felt her heart thump in her ears, and she released his arm as he stood from his chair.

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

This was happening. It was actually happening. How had he not caught on? Or had he already caught on and he was going to drag the rug out from under her feet?

She watched him cross the garage to his liquor cabinet, before he pulled out two bottles of brown substance. As he stood from his spot on the floor, he turned to her. "Y-you're not telling Beth I let you drink, g-got it?"

She nodded. "I-I got it." Not like she was going to be around long for that anyway. She walked over close to him and took one of the bottles from him, and it sloshed with thick liquid, so thick she could see it sticking to the sides of the bottle as she moved it around. "Wh-what's this?"

"Something sweet. You'll--you'll probably like it." He unscrewed the cap from the bottle he was holding and tipped it back, already taking a swig. "Uh...you shouldn't d-do that. I-I'll go get some glasses." And he placed the bottle on his desk, before he disappeared out the side door.

Morticia wasted no time. It was now or never, and she was way too lucky to get a chance like this. Her plan could have gone in any direction, and she was prepared to lie for any given circumstance, but for him to leave the room like this was a fucking stroke of luck she was not going to waste. She probably would have asked him to leave and get her something anyway, so she could do this.

She pulled the tube from her pocket, and dumped the contents of the drug into his bottle. It was difficult, to sprinkle powder into a bottle like this, but she was also afraid how much was too much. If this would even knock him out, but she poured about half the powder into the bottle, before tossing the rest of the contents into the trashcan. He wouldn't notice, there was no way he'd notice that. She worked fast, the fastest she had ever done something in her life.

It took her seconds to pour the contents out, dispose of the evidence, and throw his used test tube back under the desk with the others. It was sloppy work, but something she couldn't afford to fuck up now. If he caught her doing this, then it was all over.

Morticia straightened herself back up, certain she had placed things back in order, just as he returned through the door, and she had to calm herself down again. She had to play it dumb, pretend she was innocent in all this, to make this work. She had to make this work. If she fucked this up, then it was all over. She was never going to get another opportunity like this ever again, and there was no way he would ever let her out of his sights if he knew she had tried to drug him.

She started sweating a little as he placed the glasses on his desk, right next to the bottle she'd just spiked. It wasn't too much, was it? She didn't want to kill him. Didn't want to overdose him and have that on her conscious for the rest of her life, but what if it wasn't enough?

Or what if it was perfect? It could go in any direction at this point. Morticia was just going to have to wait.

She watched him closely, maybe too close when he poured himself a glass and took a swig. She feared for a moment he noticed the taste, when he grimaced, but it was probably at the taste of the liquor itself. Maybe the drug itself was tasteless. She never remembered detecting anything in her food when he spiked her, but she didn't even know if this was the same drug.

God, this plan was so sloppy, she was second guessing herself. For all she knew, those pills were lethal anyway and she had just killed him.

He poured her a drink from the thick liquid and she took a sip from her glass, noting how it was indeed sweet, almost like syrup, and she couldn't really taste much alcohol underneath the thick taste of sugar.

They stood awkwardly drinking from the glasses for a few moments, or rather--Morticia stood sipping quietly while Rick downed his glass, and poured another. She could feel the stress piling up in her stomach then, thinking, what if she'd killed him, what if that was a lethal drug and not the narcotics? Why would he keep random pills in his bedroom that could kill him? That didn't make much sense, but then--he kept a lot of things around that didn't make sense.

"That's sweet, r-right?" He was pouring his third glass, and hadn't detected any of the drug in it yet.

She nodded, about halfway through with her first glass, and could feel the alcohol constricting her insides in that weird way that it did. "Y-yeah, it is. It's like syrup."

Four glasses.

Morticia thought she was going to vomit. He was drinking so fast, but he wasn't showing any signs that anything was affecting him, but she could tell he was slowly getting hammered. He started swaying back and forth, attempting to pour a fifth glass, but ended up drinking straight from the bottle.

She had only finished one glass, feeling somewhat tipsy, but not quite there yet. She wondered if the drug was a placebo and didn't end up affecting him at all, if she could overpower him while he was drunk--but, she thought back to the time she woke up to him hanging over her, when he was hammered out of his goddamn mind, and he still managed to hold her down and jam a needle into her neck.

She swallowed, wondering if she could pull this off. She might have to be the one to get violent if this didn't go as planned. If he got drunk and still overpowered her, she had nothing to lose. She looked around the garage then, wondering if there was anything powerful enough that she could bash against his head and knock him out with.

Because, she had nothing to lose, right? She had to do this. She had to.

He moved then, swaying over to her, laughing a little, and she knew then he was feeling it. He was getting drunk, as he ran his fingers through her hair and brushed it behind her ear. "M-M-Morti, y-you know, I-I-I kinda w-wanted to do this with you a-anyway, y-you--you know, M-Morti. Y-You didn't know." He then wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into him and gave her a tight, lopsided hug in his drunken stupor. "O-oh jeez, Morti, y-you need t-to come with me to the--to the Citadel one day--those bastards won't know what--what to think. Th-they'd all think you're--you're super hot, but--but you're my Morti, th-they can't have you."

Yeah, he was drunk.

She pushed at him a little, as he was hugging her way too tight, and there was still the fact he was doing this in the garage, while she had no doubts her parents were right on the other side of the door, still watching tv, still unaware what was happening. "U-um, Rick?"

"Y-yeah, baby?"

"C-can we go down into the bunker? I-I don't want Mom and Dad to..." She trailed off, her face flushing. Despite her plan, despite how she was the one who'd done this, she still hated the thought of them walking in on this. If she was going to leave and escape tonight, she wanted to do without them knowing about this. They deserved that at least.

Plus, if things had to get violent, they wouldn't hear.

He pulled her away from the hug, still swaying, his eyes lidded as he gave her a sloppy smile. "Oh yeah, s-sure thing, M-Morti, you gotta, um--you gotta..." Reaching over to the trap door where the bunker lay below them, he fumbled with the handle, too drunk to coordinate his movements enough to turn the damn knob and get the door open.

Morticia reached over, turning it for him and opening the door.

"Y-yeah, that."

He dropped down inside, crawling down the ladder, and Morticia followed behind, closing the door above her as she descended. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she had to admit, having him drunk, he was much less scary. Maybe she could pull this off if things got too rough, or if he decided to overpower her back.

No. She shook her head. She wasn't going to let him overpower her back. Morticia was going to do this, and she was going to win. She had gotten this far, she had gotten him drunk, he'd taken the drug a while ago, and maybe it was going to kill him, maybe it was going to work, and maybe it wasn't going to work. She didn't know.

Whatever happened was going to happen, and she had to be prepared for anything.

Dropping down from the ladder, she turned to him and noticed he had leaned against the wall, cupping his forehead, and he was making incoherent mumbles.

"M-Morti..." He looked up at her through lidded eyes, his face flushed from being drunk, and stumbled toward her, pulling her by her arm until she was tugged into another awkward hug with him. "M-M-Morti, t-take your clothes off."

Her breath caught for a moment, but only a moment, as she paused. This was a possibility as well, and she had prepared herself to fuck him before, but she hadn't really had to do this while he was drunk. She had no idea what was going to be expected of her with him this hammered, if he was going to expect way more from her than usual, and force her to do the work.

Not waiting for her, as though he were impatient to get started, Rick reached forward and tugged at the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head for her in his drunken stupor. Morticia started for a moment, not expecting him to do that, as he was so sloppy with it, he had trapped her head in a cocoon of her own shirt, and she reached up to get her head through the hole. "H-hang on, Rick..." Her voice faltered in that moment, as she struggled to get her shirt off, still feeling the sensation of him trying to yank it over her head.

"Ughhh..." He groaned out in a way when he let go of her suddenly, and she felt his hands leave her all at once.

Morticia took the moment he wasn't clinging to her to pull her shirt back over herself, no longer having it thrown over her head, and fixed it back down until her stomach was no longer exposed. She watched as Rick stumbled to the side of the wall, cupping his forehead again, and shook his head, blinking and widening his eyes as if to will them to focus.

"Ughh...I-I don't feel--feel so good."

Her heart thumped in her chest then. Had it finally happened? Had the drug finally taken effect? So, it was potent after all. But, she stood, holding her breath, waiting for his reaction, waiting for him to fall over passed out, but also scared he was going to start vomiting and having seizures if she'd given him too much of it. There was always that possibility as well.

He sank to his knees while against the wall, still holding his forehead, and she could see in the way he swayed back and forth, the way he stumbled to the ground, that he was definitely being affected by more than just the alcohol. Morticia could feel her chest tighten at the idea, at the thought she might have just pulled this off. Could it have really been so simple? There's no way this was that simple. No fucking way.

She really didn't have any hope it was going to work.

But, there he was, on the floor, having laid down on his side and was mumbling inconsistent nonsense as he babbled on and on, the drug engulfing him the more he lay there, the more he started losing consciousness before her. She had to do it now. It was now or never. Morticia was rushed, she wanted so bad to grab his portal gun and get the fuck out of here.

He was on his side, facing her, barely conscious, but enough that she took the chance and bent down to yank his coat back and found the portal gun in his pocket coat. She wasted no time in grabbing it from him and pulling it from his pocket. If he was going to die here on the floor, she wasn't going to stick around and watch it just to feel guilty about it later.

"Wh...wh...Morti?" His voice was slurred and slow to come out, but she stood away from him when he did speak, when he looked up at her with unfocused eyes. She tried not to focus on him as she pulled the gun up to her face and desperately tried to figure out what the fuck the coordinates meant. She had no idea how to work this thing. "Wh...whaaaat are you...you doing?"

"I'm leaving." She was panicking now. Fucking panicking as she typed in random coordinates into the keypad on his portal gun, holding it out in front of her. "I'm f-fucking leaving, and I'm never coming back." Fuck it, if this shot her into space, she didn't care. If this put her on a random alien planet where she died immediately, she didn't fucking care. Anywhere was better than here. Any place, even if she died out there, was better than being with him.

He was a miserable piece of shit, and she was fucking leaving.

Reaching out, weakly, he grabbed her by her ankle, and she could feel how weak his grip was, how the drug was probably killing him. She had probably killed him, but she wasn't going to stay here just to feel guilty about that. No goddamn way. Fuck him, fuck him.

"W-wait, M...Morti..." The drug was pulling him down further and further, she could see it in his face, as he was losing consciousness.

All she did was tug her ankle out of his grip and he let go. Morticia pulled the trigger, opening a portal in front of her. The familiar hum the portal made as it appeared before her was almost music to her ears, and she had no idea where this would take her. She had no idea if she was going to die once she stepped through that portal, but she didn't care anymore.

Fuck him, and fuck this place.

Morticia didn't look back as she jumped through the portal.

The whirring of the noise around her put her senses in a blur, and it was all Morticia could do not to vomit when she leapt through the portal, still clutching the gun tightly in her hand, expecting to be dumped out into the vacuum of space, but instead, tumbling down onto a dark floor.

A crowd of people around her seemed confused at first scattering when she fell from a random portal in the ceiling, and as she sat in a daze for a moment, realizing that the darkness around her wasn't what was screwing with her. It was the pounding music with a horrible, deep base that she could feel rattling her bones, and the blinding strobe lights above her that sent her in a wave of confusion. Just where the fuck had she ended up? It looked like a dance club, or something similar to that, and she could hear the familiar sound of the portal above her closing.

At least Rick couldn't follow her.

Morticia stood from her spot, dazed, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness and the blinding lights above her blinking rapid, random colors, and the voices of the aliens whose dancing she'd interrupted by almost falling on them. She could only make out a mass of tentacles and strange blobbed bodies, and she had no idea what the fuck to even do. First, get out of this crowd, then, find out where she even was, seemed like a good start.

But, she didn't have to wait long before she felt a hand wrap itself around her arm, and pull her from the crowd. Still clutching the gun close to her, she couldn't make out who was pulling her off the dance floor, but from their silhouette, looked to be a human no taller than she, but it was impossible to make out any other features in this room. She followed, allowing them to drag her off, figuring any other place was better than being straight in the middle of the action like that. They were probably just going to question how and why she just fell from the ceiling like that.

The person pulled her away into another room, a room that was well lit and the moment they closed the door, she felt as though the heavy bass from the music outside had gone silent. She appeared to be in some kind of...office? If that were the right word. It had a desk and minibar, and a couch, but yeah. Probably an office.

She finally got a good look at the person who had pulled her away from the dance floor. The first thing she noticed was their face--they looked just like her. If not a little tan and with blonde hair they had pulled back with a headband. She could even see their brown roots growing in, but she knew immediately that this was another Morty. Maybe a Morticia? She was a little confused, if not somewhat relieved.

"Wh-what's with crashing the party like that, huh?" From his voice alone, she had to venture a guess he was a boy Morty. If not by his voice alone, the way he spoke with a weird type of inflection, she'd never heard another Morty speak with. It was odd, but she felt a strange relief overtake her, never so glad in her life to see another Morty before.

"Y-you're a Morty, right?"

He gave her a lopsided smile, causing the pink sparkles on his cheeks to shimmer under the florescent lights. "Yep. Y-you end up in the wrong place, hon? You look freaked out."

She nodded. Oh, thank god, he was a Morty. He would understand--maybe. "I-I don't know where I am. I just--I just typed in random coordinates a-and I fell onto your floor. S-sorry."

The Morty shrugged, taking a moment to push up his pink sunglasses. "Happens. D-don't worry about it. Hard to explain, but me and my Rick run a club on this alien planet, basically. Why'd y-you come here, hon?"

She froze, face flushed when she tried not to think about it. Even if he was a Morty, he probably wouldn't understand. There was no way she could tell him the truth anyway. "I-I had to--um, leave my dimension. I-I don't know where to go."

Before Morty could answer, the door opened, and his Rick entered, his bright pink jacket the most obvious thing about him, if not his reflective sunglasses that she could already see her reflection in, even from where he stood. He didn't appear to notice the two there, as he entered counting a wad of cash in his hands. "Ch-check it out, Mo-ugh-rty! I g-got a client who wants t-to watch. You okay with that?"

Morty shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

Rick stopped, finally noticing Morticia standing there, and put the wad of money in his back pocket. "Oh, been awhile since I've seen a girl Morty. Y-you here to watch too?"

Watch? Watch what?

Morty put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to the side as he spoke to his Rick. "I doubt she wants to do that, R-Rick. She said she ran a-away from her dimension. She doesn't have anywhere to go. You care if she stays here for a while?"

Rick shrugged. "No. Long as she doesn't get in the way." He pulled a toothpick from his pocket, about to stick it in his mouth, but he paused. "I gotta take care of some business. S-start getting ready for our client." With that, he leaned forward and Morticia watched in abject horror as he kissed his Morty on the mouth, as his Morty pulled back a giggle and blushed, hitting him against the arm like a teenager would do to their crush--and she felt like she stopped breathing.

Rick then ruffled his hair before turning around and heading back out the door, and Morty turned back to her, his smile falling when he saw that Morticia had reached up to cover her mouth in horror.

"Hon, you okay?"

She couldn't stop staring, couldn't believe she had just witnessed that. She'd started shaking without realizing, and couldn't stop staring at the door through which the other Rick had exited, couldn't stop replaying the scene over and over in her head of Morty giggling as he was kissed, as he reacted in such a way. She felt like she was going to throw up.

"Does your..." Morty paused for a moment before continuing. "Did your Rick ever do that with you too?"

Slowly, but steadily, Morticia nodded, still covering her mouth, still holding back the urge to vomit, still clutching the portal gun in her opposite hand if she needed to leave this place at any given moment.

There was another long pause, in which Morty tugged at his blonde hair, looking to the floor before very solemnly asking, "Did you...want him to?"

She shook her head no.

And the look he gave her. That pitying look. That look in which she saw it in his eyes, how he pitied her. When he then reached over to wrap his arms around her and pulled her into a gentle hug. "Oh hon, I'm sorry." She felt it. She could feel it.

Maybe as a Morty he understood. Maybe he really understood how she felt in that moment, because as she sat there in his arms, wanting to hug him back, wanting to hug herself, this other version of herself who liked it, but who pitied her, and maybe she wanted to be pitied, maybe--

Maybe he really did understand.

Chapter Text

Morticia wasn't sure how long she stood there as Morty hugged her, as she lost sight of the room around her and instead, noticed how Morty smelled strongly of citrus. It was a familiar and comforting scent, and she wanted to hug him back. She really did. But, in that moment, all she could do was stand there as he held onto her.

But, he broke the hug, still smiling at her in that gentle manner, as though telling her everything would be okay. She could see it in his face. He was genuine.

"I-I don't mean to leave you here, hon, but I gotta go. I've gotta go--um, perform for my client. Won't take too long. We'll talk when I get back, okay?"

She nodded, her focus shifting from the scent of his citrus coated skin to the red velvet carpet that lay underneath her. There wasn't much time to really notice it before, but she was in a very nice office. There were even oil paintings of what looked like important CEO's on the wall, a stain glass lamp on the desk across the room, and a whole bookcase full of large, complicated-looking books. It looked both typical and important at the same time, but she wasn't sure which one it was.

Morty gestured toward the couch that sat in front of the desk. "You can hang out here if you want. Th-there's a bathroom at the other end of the room if you need it." Then, he patted her shoulder, giving her another genuine, reassuring smile. "I'll be back soon."

Morticia watched as he exited through the front door, the lights blinding her for a moment when they streaked through the door, but the sound cutting out the moment he closed the door behind him again. Perhaps there was a sound barrier around this place? Everything was almost eerily quiet as she stood alone in the office, left to her own devices.

Speaking of devices.

She looked down at the portal gun, the screen on the top still blinking with her coordinates. The random coordinates she typed in, not caring where they took her, and she was even prepared to die once she walked through that portal. Morticia had been prepared to die for this. And that was so fucked up she was willing to take whichever was going to be handed to her.

She could have easily died after jumping through that portal, but she didn't. It dumped her out on an alien planet that happened to be inhabited by this universe's Rick and Morty, and she wondered if the universe was based like hers. If this planet was all that existed, if they had a universe like hers but chose to live in a place like this. Obviously, no Beth and Jerry were around, as it looked like Morty and his Rick ran the club themselves. Or, if there were versions of them around here, she hadn't seen them.

Sinking back onto the couch, Morticia breathed a long sigh as she stared at the portal gun. It was already nighttime by the time she had started her scheme, and the longer things dragged out, the more sleepy she could feel herself getting. She didn't even know if her Rick was dead. Those pills, the amount of powder she dumped in his bottle, could have killed him for all she knew. Morticia could have possibly killed her Rick, and there was no way of her knowing if that happened or not. Wasn't like she even knew how to work the damn portal gun--and not like she planned to even go back to check on him.

Fuck that.

She took a moment to peer around the office from her spot on the couch. It looked like it wasn't used much, even though it appeared clean, as though it got regular vacuuming, regular dusting, and the like. Maybe it was only used for business meetings or something? She couldn't really picture this world's Rick, or any Rick for that matter, sitting at a fancy desk like this while discussing business. Unless, that was his thing. She tended to forget not all Ricks were like hers--obsessed with going on adventures and stealing random shit from alien planets, and then building machines that didn't even make a difference.

Some Ricks weren't interested in that.

Her stomach reeled at the thought of what had happened earlier, when she watched as this universe's Rick kissed his Morty, and that laugh he made. She saw it on his face--when he giggled, when he blushed and jokingly hit his Rick on his arm, when his Rick ruffled his hair and they looked so...?

Morticia leaned back into the couch, feeling her body melt into the fabric underneath her.

Morty looked like he loved it. She could see it in his face, the way he giggled, the tiny little movements he made, just the look on his face alone was replaying itself over and over again in her head. The way he smiled after he was kissed, the way he turned to her, when he looked so happy for a split moment, before pitying her because of her reaction.

She looked down at the portal gun again, at the coordinates. This Morty was supposed to be her. They were the same person. They were both the same person, if not from different universes. So, that meant that if he liked it--what if--

What if she'd been lying to herself? What if Morticia's relationship with Jessica had been a lie from the very beginning? What if she never really liked her, never wanted to date her even, and only lied to herself the entire time because she never wanted to face that maybe she had seduced Rick on accident--but maybe on purpose.

She squeezed the gun until her knuckles turned white.

If this Morty liked it, reacted that way, then did that mean something was wrong with her? Was she the one in the wrong? Was Morticia even an individual, amongst this Morty, because they were the same person. She and him, despite being different genders, and having different appearances, were the same person. She was him.

Her hands shook a little when tears welled in her eyes. Did that have to mean she was meant to like this from the beginning? Since he was into it, was she really in the wrong having fought so much to escape, always fighting, always so sure she wanted to be with Jessica, and even stooping to drugging her Rick to steal his portal gun and escape--but what if that had all been for nothing? What if Morticia was supposed to like this, she was supposed to like it from the beginning, and sleep with him when he wanted, go along with it the whole time, because if she had--none of this would have happened.

If Morticia had just liked it from the start and accepted him, she wouldn't be here right now, with the thought that maybe she had accidentally killed him weighing on her mind--with the thought she couldn't go back home in fear that he would still be there. She wasn't going to see her parents again, or her sister. If she had just liked it, then--

Then it wouldn't have been so bad when he told her he was taking her away once she graduated. She was supposed to love the idea of being alone with him, not having to sneak around the house anymore. She was supposed to love the idea of not having to go to college, not having to deal with that type of headache, and instead playing around with him, getting to go on adventures again.

She placed the portal gun in her lap as she sat on the couch, sunken down into the soft material of the cushion below her. Her gaze rested unfocused on the red velvet carpet under her feet.

Maybe something really was wrong with her. Maybe it was her fault.

Honestly, it was pointless to think of something like that if she really had killed him. Morticia wasn’t sure why she wasn’t more freaked out at the idea she might’ve done just that. It wouldn’t matter, since she had gone to another dimension anyway, so what was the point in freaking out over it? If she really had killed him by accident, wouldn’t that just mean that this was all over? She was prepared to never see her parents or sister ever again, at least not those versions of them, so really.

Was this so bad?

She sat with her back slouched on the couch, reveling in the comfort below her and she wanted to doze off right then and there. Everything that had happened today had left her drained of all her energy, and she was tempted to slip off to sleep on the couch.

Maybe Rick was dead, and maybe he wasn’t. She wasn’t going back to that place ever again. Maybe he would wake up and track her down, but she would keep running. Morticia wasn’t going to stop, she refused to let him win after all she went through to finally get away from him.

It was taking all she had to feel safe. To obtain freedom. But, she wanted it so, so bad. Maybe she had killed him, but maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he would wake up and come after her, track her down—and she had no doubts he would track her down once he realized what happened. If he was alive, that is.

She took a moment to look down at the portal gun in her hands again. It was odd how she had just taken this from him and been dumped in this new universe not so long ago. And here she was sitting on a couch about to doze off because she was so tired from the events that had happened. It felt like a lifetime she had been here already, just from being able to sit and breathe like this for once.

She closed her eyes, letting her body relax into the cushions below her. It felt nice.


 

“Hey, hon, you awake?”

The sound of the voice right next to her roused her from sleep, and she slowly opened her eyes, forgetting for a moment where she was. At some point, she had tipped over and was now lying across the couch, the portal gun still clutched in her hands as she lay curled up into herself. She must’ve fallen asleep pretty easily like this, and sat up, rubbing at her eyes as she made out the figure of Morty in front of her.

He appeared freshly showered, as his hair was damp, dripping occasionally with water. He no longer had glitter on his face, but she noticed him dressed in a pair of pink pajamas, an obvious sign it was bedtime.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to fall a-asleep.”

He shrugged. “Not a big deal. Didn’t mean to t-take so long. Our client was a little...rambunctious, if you know what I mean.”

No, she didn’t, but she was too afraid to ask what he and his Rick even did for their clients. She had a funny feeling she already knew the answer, but didn’t know if she wanted him to confirm for sure. Some things were best left unanswered.

Having been woken up like this, she still felt exhausted, not really sure how long she was asleep for. It must not have been that long if she felt this unrested, and she kind of wanted to go back to sleep and talk in the morning. Whenever morning was. Time might have been different on this dimension than on hers, but if Morty was dressed in his pajamas, she could only assume that was a safe bet everyone was getting ready for bed.

It was then that he extended a hand for her, which she took, if not without a little hesitation, and he pulled her up from the couch, tugging her along through the room and toward the front door.

“Wh-where are we going?” She felt a little nervous, despite how nice this Morty was being to her, she was still in an unfamiliar place, and everything that was happening was new to her. She still had a few questions to ask, and had no doubt Morty was going to start asking her why she ran away to begin with.

He pulled the door open, to an empty dance club, which was the weirdest thing Morticia thought she’d ever seen. It looked like a normal room without all the strobe lights and the pounding music. There was nobody here, which was odd the place could be cleaned out like this, with no sounds, and it was almost eerie. “We’ve g-got a-a-a—how do you call it? Like an apartment above the building we live in, I guess? Y-you’re not sleeping on the couch all night. Th-that’d be rude, you know? But, th-there’s a kitchen where you can get some food and a big shower a-and you can sleep in my room tonight.”

He was kind of piling a lot on her at once, but she was trying her best to keep up with him as he pulled her by the hand across the room to a door labeled ‘Do not Enter’ in big red letters. Once he pulled the door open they began to ascend the staircase behind it and Morticia was soon led into—just as he’d described—a tiny apartment. If that were the right word.

There was a small entryway, a living room, a kitchen, a long stretch of hallway before her that probably led to the bedrooms. All the basic necessities. It was almost weird imagining a place like this existing over a dance club. It was very...homely? Normal and maybe a little too normal, but she didn’t know what she expected honestly.

Morty released her hand as he made his way into the kitchen and started flitting through the cabinets. “You hungry, hon? I can make you something.”

“Oh, uh.” She twiddled at her fingers when nerves piled into her stomach. At the mention of food, her stomach growled as if on command, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had a good meal, and wasn’t even sure if she could eat all that much now anyway.

Reaching into a cabinet, Morty pulled back a can of soup. “Let’s see… You like tomato soup? Or maybe some ramen noodles? We don’t have a whole lot. Rick said he’d go grocery shopping y-yesterday and the bastard forgot.”

She visibly cringed at the way he so casually talked about his Rick like that, but she tried to swallow it down and not think too hard about it. “T-tomato soup sounds good. I-if that’s okay…”

He smiled. “Sure, hon.”

As he pulled out a pot to dump the contents into, Morticia sidled up next to him, feeling uncomfortable as she stood there, trying to take this all in. It was so weird to be next to another Morty like this, who was her. It was weird to think of this person as another her, but also thinking of him as not her. But, she knew if she thought too hard about it, her brain would just shit itself. “Um…” She tried hard to think of a conversation to start. “S-so, where are Mom and Dad? D-do they live here with you guys?”

Stirring the soup with a liberal amount of water, Morty shook his head. “Nah. We left them ages ago.”

“Left?” She perked up, watching as he stirred the soup. “What do y-y-you mean, left?”

“Well, basically Rick asked me if I wanted to come with him off planet and run a club together.” He shrugged, so nonchalantly, explaining this as though he were doing nothing more than telling her how the weather was outside. “And I said hell yeah, let’s do it. Then, we ended up here, and uh—yeah that’s it. We left. Been doing this for about a year or so.”

She stared for a moment, not sure how to react, or what to say. The way he spoke about leaving their parents like that, as though it was something he gave not another moment’s thought to, and he didn’t look worried about it. He didn’t look eaten up with guilt or homesick at the fact he’d just left. Up one day and gone the next. “Oh.” She turned her gaze to the floor, at her sneakers, not sure what to say.

Morty pulled the pot off the stove long enough to pour her a bowl of soup, handing her a spoon from the drawer next to him as he did so. “You want some toast with that or something? T-tomato soup isn’t, like, too filling or anything.”

She shook her head, still not able to meet his gaze. “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you for c-cooking.”

“No problem.”

They sat at the small table just outside the kitchen, Morty having grabbed himself a soda while Morticia sipped at her soup. It was awkward, way too awkward for the longest time, and she had questions sitting at the edge she wanted so badly to ask him, but felt maybe they were too personal. Then again, this was herself she was asking. Maybe it was dumb to think of things like that. “U-um. C-can I ask you something?”

“Sure, hon, shoot.”

He seemed so nice too. The whole time she’d been here, this Morty had been nothing but understanding, polite, and nice to her. She figured after running a club for as long as he had, full of crude dancing aliens who probably harassed him on the daily and talked shit to him, that he would be full of contempt for his life, but he wasn’t. “Um…” She could feel her cheeks flush red as she stared at her soup. “D-does your, um—d-does your Rick, um…” She was dying for his answer, but also afraid of his answer to her question, and couldn’t even get the question out all the way. “D-does he...make you…?” She tried to explain, but failed, not able to get the words out.

But, Morty picked up on what she was asking without further clarification. “Hon, Rick doesn’t make me do anything, if that’s what you’re asking. If anything, he lets me boss him around a little too much. If I don’t want to perform for a client, I don’t have to. I came here of my own free will.”

Her face flushed with even more shame. “S-so how did…? How did y-you end up, um, you know?” God, why was it so hard to ask? She felt so stupid sitting here trying to will herself to ask the question she didn’t even want an answer to, but she was also too curious not to ask it. “With him?”

“Because I wanted it.”

At his response, his response that was so blatant and direct, she almost choked on her soup, flipping her head up and staring at him. Not that having seen him kiss his Rick should have tipped her off to their relationship status, but to hear him admit it like this—she felt her chest constrict and her stomach do flips until she wasn’t hungry anymore.

He gave her another sympathetic look, almost pitying, at her reaction. “You have to understand, but. Not all Ricks are bastards like yours. I’m assuming that’s why you ran away, yeah?”

Slowly, but without hesitation, she nodded.

“I don’t blame you. You shouldn’t feel worried about it though. I mean—I know it’s got to be harrowing for you to see me and my Rick like this. But, just because I wanted something like that doesn’t mean you had to.”

It amazed her that this Morty, despite his appearance and what he did, could be so perceptive. But, maybe it was just because they were the same, and he knew how she felt based on that alone. Maybe he also had problems accepting he was an individual, especially considering they had been exposed to so many different versions of themselves in the past. It wasn’t exactly easy to come to terms with something like that.

“There’s Mortys who do this and they’re okay with it. But, there’s some who aren’t. Not all of us are the same, hon. Just because we’re the same people doesn’t mean—you know, we’re the same.”

It was kind of liberating to hear this from another Morty. And he was right. It’d been eating at her for so long, especially when she saw him act this way, but. That wasn’t really fair to judge him that way, based on how she felt. It wasn’t fair to him. Whatever choices he made, no matter what she thought of them, were his choices to make. Just like her choices were hers. Neither of them had to be like the other, and she felt as though some heavy weight were lifted off her chest as she sat there, listening to him comfort her. A comfort she hadn’t felt in weeks, maybe even months.

She wanted to cry, at these kind words he was telling her. He was so understanding, so kind, because he was her. He knew exactly how she felt.

“I-I drugged him and stole the portal gun.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away, feeling stupid she was getting emotional like this. “I-I don’t even know if he’s alive. I might’ve accidentally killed him. H-he might come after me if I-I didn’t. Wh-what if he c-comes after me? Wh-wh-what should I-I do?”

“You can stay here if you want.”

His words made her want to cry even more. But, that idea made her fearful, because she knew the truth, that if he tracked her down to this place, he might kill them. “H-he’s fucking insane, though. I-I’m not even sure if h-h-he’d hesitate to shoot you i-if he had the chance.”

“My Rick wouldn’t let me get shot. But, if you’re that worried, then here.” Morty stood from the table, making his way over to where she sat, where the portal gun lay sitting next to her bowl of soup. He picked it up, and typed in a slew of coordinates before handing it back to her. “If he comes here and starts some shit, you can go here. It’s the coordinates for the Citadel.”

She froze at the mention of that place. She’d only been there once, but the visit wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Why there?”

“Because, I know it’s kind of shitty too, but there are some good Ricks there. Someone would help you. Plus, you’re a, um…” He trailed off, seeming as though uncomfortable to say the next part of his sentence. “A Morticia. You’re kind of...rare.”

Rare. That word sent a wave of weird feelings through her. She remembered the times Rick would talk about taking her to the Citadel, spewing nonsense about how badly he wanted to show her off and stuff like that. She never thought of herself as anything remarkable, but for some reason, in this fucked up universe where she’d met multiple versions of herself, she was considered a Morty hard to come by. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d met another Morty like herself, another Morticia, but there had to be some out there. Some like her, maybe even going what she was going through, confused and exhausted and wanting freedom.

Morty started stuttering over his words then, as though trying to backtrack what he’d said. “I-I’m not saying anything bad b-by that, I’m just s-s-saying you’re more likely to find help than the o-other Mortys. I-I mean, I’ve never even m-met a Morticia until today.”

Was he worried she was offended over being considered rare? The thought made her want to laugh, as tired as she was, and as emotionally exhausted as today had been, she also felt comfortable in his presence, and felt herself smile. It’d been so long since she smiled over anything. “It’s okay. Um…” She looked at the portal gun that rested in her hands, staring at the coordinates again. “Thank you. I’m sorry you got mixed up in this.”

He patted her shoulder. “Hon, trust me, I’ve been through worse. So, what are you gonna do? Did you want to stay here?”

The proposition made her stop for a moment. Stay at a club with them? It wasn’t really her scene, and the idea of being a place where she had to put up with aliens potentially harassing her kind of made her nauseated. “I-I don’t know. I-I can’t put you out.”

“Well, it’s not like you have anywhere else to go, right? You can work here. Rick will pay you. You wouldn’t be freeloading then.”

Work here? Or did he mean ‘perform’ for clients? She felt the blood leave her face and knew she’d turned pale, if the expression on his face was any indication, he started stumbling over his words again. And once again he showed how empathetic he could be, because—well, she was him.

“I-I mean like office work. We wouldn’t make you do anything like that. Nobody’s going to come here and demand anything like that from you, I promise. I’m sure Rick will be fine with it. The worst you’ll do is wash dishes or something, but we wouldn’t put you out there like that. B-but, it’s something for you t-to do. You don’t have to.” He shrugged.

She paused, leaning back in her chair. Honestly, he was right. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, as her own universe was out of the question. There wasn’t really a plan she had, as she didn’t even expect to be dropped off in this universe either. Morticia was at a loss for what to do, not having anything on her mind but escape before, and now she sat, not sure what to do. It sounded promising, and she wondered for a moment that life here couldn’t be any worse than how it was before. Morty seemed nice and understanding and he said he wouldn’t force anything on her.

Really, Morticia had an offer to something semi normal for once. Why not take it? It wasn’t ideal, but it was a hell of a lot better than anything she had before.

“U-um, I mean—if you’ll let me work a-and I wouldn’t be freeloading or putting you out or anything.” Her face flushed at the idea, at what she was saying. That she was taking this offer handed to her, because she was a little desperate for something better. And this was better.

Morty smiled. “You wouldn’t be putting us out. We have plenty of room. I’ll talk it over with Rick tomorrow, but I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.” He looked down at her bowl of half eaten soup and gestured toward it. “That all you’re gonna eat, hon? You still hungry?”

Pushing at the bowl, she felt her stomach flip at the idea of eating anything else. It just wasn’t going to be possible today. “N-no. Sorry, I don’t think I can right now.”

He shrugged, taking the bowl before disposing of it in the nearby sink. “If Rick would actually get some food, we could give you a proper meal. Ugh. Anyway, I’m sure you’re tired.” Taking her by the hand once more, Morty gently coaxed her from the table, as Morticia grabbed the portal gun and clutched onto it once more, before leading her down the hallway and through one of the bedroom doors.

On the other side lay a bedroom so unlike her own. Where Morticia always had a very plain bedroom, hardly any decoration at all, it was surprising to see this Morty’s bedroom decorated with very bright colors. It was strange how they could be the same person, but also not the same person. She would never decorate her room like this, but it fitted him so well. He had a dresser piled with makeup and accessories in the corner of the room, and she noticed a furry carpet at the end of his bed that honestly made her giggle at little when she first laid eyes on it. It was so ugly, but also something she could see him liking.

His bed was pink, with little random designs of bright blue in his blanket and she could only assume that was his favorite color. It fit him so well too. Once they were inside his room, he released her hand before gesturing toward a door on the other side. “My bathroom’s in there if you want to shower. And here.” Pulling open the drawer of his dresser, he pulled out a pile of pajamas, also obnoxious bright colors, and handed them to her. “Some pjs. I’m sure they’ll fit you.” Then, he smiled at her. “You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll crash on the couch in the living room for now.”

“U-um.” She felt so dumb standing there, holding onto a pair of bright blue and green pajamas while her face heated up. It was so dumb to ask him of this, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling right now. The idea of being alone again scared her, but she was too embarrassed to say that. “I-I mean, um. W-would you...stay?” She gripped at the fabric of the pajamas, feeling so stupid for asking him this. But, he’d done nothing but comforted her all day. She felt weird that if he left, she would only get freaked out and vulnerable again. Having him here made her feel safe in a weird kind of way.

He looked surprised for a moment, but gave her a soft smile. “Well, if you want, hon, yeah.” And maybe he even understood that, maybe she didn’t have to say it. She felt comforted more by the fact he didn’t question her, didn’t ask why, but just accepted she was still emotionally compromised, and having company would be better for her.

She placed the portal gun on his dresser before making her way into the bathroom, expecting a tiny cramped space, but was pleasantly surprised that his bathroom was big enough for a tub. How badly she wanted to sit in a hot bath right now, but felt she was overstaying her welcome as it was. Maybe one day. After she’d closed and locked the door behind her, she stripped, feeling strange doing this in someone else’s bathroom. But, there was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Back at home, she always felt like she was being watched, no matter what. But, standing naked in the bathroom as she did this, Morticia didn’t feel that overwhelming sense of paranoia take hold of her that she was so used to. It was a stupid thing to feel paranoid over, after everything her Rick had done to her. He’d seen her naked plenty of times, so what was the point in getting embarrassed like this? It didn’t make any sense, but she could feel a sense of relief when she stepped into the shower, when she saw this Morty used dove products too, and she washed herself.

She took her time, allowing the water to graze over her, not obsessed with washing herself so hard that she rubbed her skin raw, or turned the water so hot that it burned her skin. It was...almost relaxing to do it this way. The scents from the shampoo and body wash took over her senses and she felt sleepy all over again. It was nice, so nice to have a shower where she wasn’t panicking trying to get out so fast and dress. Where she wasn’t crying and trying to scrub away what had been done to her.

When she stepped out and dressed in the pajamas Morty had given her, Morticia felt so warm and cozy in them. Despite how ugly they were, they had to be made of satin or something, because damn. She could feel the material hug her skin and wanted to drown in this feeling like she was in some luxury ass hotel all of a sudden. She hadn’t felt this clean or comfortable in a long time.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she spotted Morty appearing to be in the middle of pulling the sheets back on his bed. He was so meticulous in how he fluffed the pillows for her and flattened out the blanket. Once she emerged back into the bedroom, he turned and shot her a smile. “This okay? I don’t know if you like your pillows fluffed like me or not.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I do. You didn’t have to do that though.”

“It’s no problem. I should get a sleeping bag to sleep on the floor or something, I guess.”

“Um.” Her face flushed, as Morty started rummaging around his room for blankets and the like. “Y-you don’t have to. I-I can sleep on the floor.”

“No way.”

“Then…” She felt the blush take over at what she was saying, but weirdly enough, didn’t feel much shame from it. “Why don’t we just, you know.” Her face got even more hot. “Both sleep in the bed?” It wouldn’t be a big deal if it were him. He was her after all. She didn’t feel freaked out or afraid if she slept next to a Morty. And, it would give her another sense of comfort to have someone there next to her. It was probably selfish to ask this much of him, she knew, but she felt needy all of a sudden for more of his comfort. He’d already given her so much, but she was feeling starved for it.

He stared at her for a few seconds, before looking off to the side, and he shrugged. “If that’s what you want, then sure, I’m okay with it too.”

He sat down on the bed, as she made her way over and sat next to him, expecting him to pull back the covers, but instead, she felt his hands tug at the bottom of her hair then.

“C-can I ask you something?”

She froze a little, not sure why she was afraid of what he was about to say. “Yeah?”

“You know, I’ve never seen a Morticia before. It’s it okay, if um—I mean, can I play with your hair?”

She felt no malice from him, only curious innocence, and he had asked permission after all. Sinking back into the bed, she nodded. “Sure.” Also confused why he would want to do something like that. It wasn’t something she expected, but maybe he was only curious. Or maybe he was interested in things like that. After all, he had long hair too that was bleached, maybe he was more into fashion and stuff than her.

“Okay.” And he seemed excited then, as he grabbed a hairbrush from the bedside table, and pulled her hair into small sections. It was damp from her shower, and she flinched at first, expecting him to tug and pull and be rough, but he gently dragged the brush through, being careful as he gripped the small sections he’d made, and brushed through her tangles. “I-I really like your hair, by the way. I’ve always wanted long hair like this.”

It was so strange to hear this from a Morty, but she relaxed, after realizing how gentle he was being and that he wouldn’t tug her hair, she could sit back and enjoy the feeling. “R-really? I kind of always wanted to cut it short a-and dye it blonde. Kind of like yours.” She felt so relaxed, sitting on his bed as he sat behind her, brushing tiny sections of her hair as she felt so warm in those pajamas and almost suffocated by the scent of the soaps she’d used earlier. Everything felt weirdly peaceful right now, almost too good to be true, but she sat there in the moment, enjoying every bit of it.

She didn’t have to worry about Rick, or him coming to drag her away from her bedroom, or having sex with him, and crying afterward as she showered it all off her. She didn’t have to feel guilty about anything right now. She could just—exist and feel good that she existed.

“Do it! You’d be pretty with blonde hair. I mean—” Morty made a sarcastic laugh then as he brushed through a tangle. “I know I’m hot shit, but I bet any style looks good on you.”

She laughed through her nose as he finished running the brush through her hair then, before sectioning her hair off into three thick parts, before he slowly started braiding it. “M-maybe one day. I don’t know if I’m ready for a style change that drastic.”

As he sat there braiding her hair, Morticia felt herself getting lost in how gentle he was being, how nice his hands felt twisting and twirling her hair around as he never tugged too hard, or pulled. She thought about a life living here with him, someone who was her, and understood how she felt. It wouldn’t be bad at all, now that she thought of it. She might even like the club life, even if it wasn’t her scene, though she couldn’t picture herself getting involved in the action like that.

She looked over at the portal gun that sat on his dresser, and remembered how he had typed in the coordinates for the Citadel for her. She thought about Rick coming after her, and this Morty getting hurt at her expense. But, maybe she had killed him, and it wouldn’t happen. He would have come after her already if that wasn’t the case. She had no doubts that he would have tracked her down by now if he survived that.

Maybe he really was dead. It was weird to hope that, because that would mean she was responsible for it. But, she wouldn’t be there to take the blame. Her parents wouldn’t know she had done it, nobody could come after her and pin it on her, so what was the point of worrying over something dumb like that?

She had escaped in hopes of something better, and she found it. This was better, it was already so much better than what she had. Morticia had found herself laughing and smiling already, just from being in this Morty’s presence, from being comforted by his words, because he understood what it was like to be her.

Even if Rick came after her one day, even if he found her, she felt weirdly safe knowing this Morty was on her side. Knowing she had an ally like this, even if it was herself, made her feel safe. He didn’t blame her for what happened.

She closed her eyes, as she felt him finish braiding her hair from behind. The mattress moved from under her when she felt him shift over and allowed her to dip herself under the covers. He smelled of citrus again, and she could only assume he put lotion on after his showers, but he smelled so good. She wanted that smell to be associated with good things from now on, and she nuzzled herself down under the blanket, feeling so warm next to him, feeling so safe, and so comforted.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. It was so strange to think she had ended up here, with a Morty like him, someone who was so kind and understanding toward what had happened to her. Even though he was her, she felt like he was way more perceptive than he let on, that he was more aware of how fucked up everything was, but despite that, he was just living his life the way he wanted, and he was happy.

Morticia hoped that she could be happy like that too.

As she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, allowing the warmth and smell of citrus to overtake her, she wondered if this place would give her that. It would be nice. It would be nice to be happy.

 

Chapter Text

The sound of the bedroom door being thrown open was the first thing Morticia became aware of that morning. It roused her from sleep, and she heard the voice of Rick call out, not at all concerned with being quiet. “Y-y-you just gonna sleep all day, Morty? W-w-we gotta—gotta—we made like two grand last night, Morty.”

At first, she panicked a little at the fact she just remembered she had fallen asleep next to Morty, and feared for a moment that his Rick would have something to say about that, as he stood in the doorway, already dressed and waiting impatiently for Morty to respond. But, he said nothing, barely even acknowledged her existence when she sat up in bed, her heart pounding at the mere sound of his voice—because it was the same voice as her Rick.

But, Morty also leaned up in bed next to her, groaning and rubbing at his face from sleep. “So? Two grand is nothing, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal, Morty, i-i-is that we can finally fix th-that light fixture you’ve been bitching about for like, wh-wh-what, a week now? N-nobody notices, b-but damn if you don’t.”

“You wanna run a shitty club or what?”

Morticia sat there awkwardly as they bickered back and forth. Arguing like this wasn’t something she wasn’t used to by any means, but it was still so strange to see another Morty argue with his Rick just like she used to do. In most ways, they were two completely different people, but in others, they were exactly the same.

Morty finally dragged himself from bed and let out a loud yawn before continuing. “Wh-why don’t you use some of that money to like, I don’t know, buy us some damn good food for once?”

Rick only crossed his arms before answering. “Y-y-you know I gotta go off planet for that. It’s a hassle.”

“So, use your portal gun.”

“Ugh, fine.” It was so weird to watch his Rick lean his head back before letting out an exasperated sigh, giving into the argument. Something she could never say happened between her and her Rick anyway. “I’ll do it later. I-I-I gotta—gotta take care of some business first. Our client from last night left a-a goddamn mess in the back room. N-nobody’s g-g-gonna volunteer to clean th-that shit up. We can’t open with jizz all over the floor.”

The longer Morticia sat there in the bed listening to their conversation, the more awkward she felt at not being acknowledged, as though she weren’t even there. Though, that was probably for the best. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to talk to his Rick, or what she was supposed to say to him. He definitely had qualities that reminded her of her own Rick, and that made her stomach roll into knots. But, that wasn’t really fair to him either. Just because he looked and sounded like her Rick didn’t make him bad.

But, blending into the background worked fine with her, as she sat there not sure what to do, if she was supposed to stand and leave or continue sitting there. Morty eventually nodded before letting out another loud yawn. “I-I’m gonna eat breakfast first before heading down. I’ll help you clean.”

Rick gave him an expectant nod. “Y-you’d better. I don’t want t-t-to clean that shit up by myself.” Then he turned and disappeared down the hall, still muttering to himself.

Once they could no longer hear Rick's grumbling and footsteps from down the hall, Morty turned back to Morticia, looking sleepy and a little grumpy that he'd been woken up in such a way. "Sorry." His apology was a bit sheepish as he rubbed at the back of his hair, ringing through the tangles from a night of sleep. "He can be, uh--w-well, you know."

She nodded. "Y-yeah, I know."

"He's not bad, I promise." Morty moved over to his dresser that was covered in makeup products before pulling back a drawer and produced a gaudy brush covered in sparkles. He continued talking as he ran through the tangles in his long hair. "I-I mean, I can't say the same for your Rick, but mine's not bad, if not a little bitchy."

Morticia rose from bed, realizing her hair was still braided from last night and pulled it behind her, feeling the weight of her own hair pressed against her back. "Y-you don't have to, you know..." Biting at her lip, she felt her cheeks flush with a little embarrassment as she spoke, not sure exactly how to word her sentence. "...Talk him up for me. I know he's n-not like my Rick."

It was then Morty turned back to her as he fastened a headband around his hair, pulling his bangs back and exposing his face where she could see the look on his face. That sympathetic look again. "D-does he, um--I mean, you don't have to talk to him if it makes you uncomfortable, hon."

She shook her head, still feeling like her cheeks were hot. "No, it's okay. That's not fair to him."

"It doesn't really matter if it's fair. You haven't had it fair for a while."

An odd silence took over at Morty's words, as he continued fixing himself up at his dresser, pulling out tiny drawers from jewelry boxes to take out random earrings and bracelets and all sorts of shiny things. But, Morticia walked to the other side of the room toward the bathroom to wash her face.

It was strange to be here, to listen to words of comfort like this. Morticia wasn't sure she would ever hear things like this being said to her. When before, she was so sure Mom and Dad would blame her, would tell her it was all her fault and that she was disgusting for allowing this to ever happen to her--because there was always a way she could have prevented it from happening, right? But, to have Morty here, telling her she wasn't to blame, and things hadn't been fair.

She breathed in for a moment.

It felt so good. So good to hear words like that, even if they were from him, even if he was her, and even if somewhere in the part of her mind thought that he was only saying these things because they were the same person and he knew what it was like to feel this way, so he knew what to say in order to make her feel better. Maybe that was fake, but maybe it wasn't. She didn't care. Morticia didn't care if what he was saying to her was all fake, but she needed to hear something like that so bad, and it made her feel so good too.

She looked up at the bathroom mirror, at her reflection. Her hair was a little messy from sleep, but still tied back in the braid, something she never did that often back at home, and she liked it. It suited her, and she didn't want to unwind all Morty's hard work from last night, so she decided to keep it, even if it looked a little messy, who cared? Morticia stood straight, and breathed again before stepping out of the bathroom.

In the time it had taken her to wash her face, Morty was already pulling some clothes out of his dresser, and had pulled some out for her as well. Which was nice, because Morticia had planned to redress in her old t-shirt and jeans, but Morty had thought of that too.

"Hey, hon, sorry if these don't fit. We're roughly the same size, right? They ought to anyway." He held up a blue t-shirt for her and a pair of capri pants. "Are these okay? They're the only thing I have in my wardrobe that's uh...modest." When he gave her a lopsided smile, Morticia couldn't help but snort.

She took the shirt and pants from him and held them close to her. "Thank you. Um, you didn't have to lend me your clothes."

"Well, it's not like you're going to be wearing the same thing every day." Morty huffed. "That's just gross."

"Um..." Suddenly, Morticia just realized a crucial piece of clothing was missing from the pile that Morty had given her, and she felt her face heat up.

Morty perked up at the sound of her uncertain tone as he fished around through his dresser for some clothes of his own. "Something wrong, hon?"

"Um..." She only repeated what she'd said earlier, her face heating up. She wasn't sure why this was embarrassing to ask, because Morty was her, after all, and considering his lifestyle, she didn't see any reason why he wouldn't have this in stock. "D-do you have, a-a--um. A bra?"

The image of him wearing a bra flashed through her mind and she felt hot all over, having to look away from him for a second because she was being too pervy. God, why did she do this. It never failed Morticia thought of some embarrassing things in the dumbest circumstances, but she couldn't help herself.

"Oh yeah, sorry!" Pulling back a drawer, Morty produced several bras, and Morticia felt her face gush with embarrassment at the sight of him pulling out an assortment of sparkly bras, sports bras, and a couple with nipple tassels on them.

Oh shit. "Oh jeez." It should've been expected, but she still looked over at the pile of clothes he was accumulating on his bed to stare at her options. If anything, she expected him to have some guilty pleasure hidden away like maybe a ratty bra he wore on occasion, but holy hell, a whole drawer full of them threw her off so far, she felt like she'd gotten whiplash.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I know some of these aren't your style, but pick whatever you like, hon."

She decided on the sports bra.

Once she'd gathered all her clothes, Morticia went back to the bathroom to change. It was no surprise the clothes fit her almost too well. She looked so different from how she normally dressed with her hair in a braid, a girly blue shirt, and capris, but as she looked over herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but like it too. It suited her. Morty really did pick out some cute clothes, even if they weren't her style, she found the longer she was dressed in them, the more appealing they were.

Stepping out the bathroom, Morticia saw Morty had already dressed himself in something a lot different. He was at his dresser, applying makeup and glitter to his face, but what she couldn't help but notice was how he sat dressed in a bikini with a brightly colored midriff tank top that showed off his smooth tanned stomach. It looked familiar, and it hit her then that he'd been wearing something similar last night, but with everything that had happened at once, she hadn't taken the time to really stare at his clothes for too long.

Needless to say, seeing him half naked made her thoughts stray to the pervy region again. It was so weird seeing a version of herself who dressed like this, talked like this, lived his life like this, something she could never do, could never see herself doing. Not even the way he dressed, despite how girly she wished she could be sometimes, she could never doll her face up that much, or bleach her hair, or dress in clothes that showed off her body. Just the image made her blush, and she felt the need to look away from him as though this were a scene she wasn't meant to see, but he turned to her then, his cheeks sparkling with pink glitter as his eyes lit up.

"Oh hon, you look so cute!"

At his compliment, Morticia blushed. She always got nervous and blushed whenever people complimented her like this, if it was a genuine compliment. "Th-thank you."

Standing from his seat, Morty stretched out, only showing off his flat stomach that much more, and in which Morticia noticed he had a navel piercing, which made her blush even harder, before he gestured her out the bedroom door. "Let's go eat something. Bet you're starving?"

She shrugged. "N-not really, but I-I am a little hungry."

He walked them down the hallway toward the kitchen, and they both became aware of the smell of food being cooked, along with the unmistakable sound of sizzling bacon. As they turned the corner, they spotted Rick at the stove, his back to them, but he turned once they entered the kitchen, holding up a spatula and gave Morty what could only be described as a smug smile. "Ch-check it out, Mortyyyy! Guess w-who went and got some cheap ass food from the next planet over."

Morty made a face like he'd just died a little inside before rolling his eyes. "You're going to openly admit it's cheap?"

"Hey." Rick turned and pointed the spatula at Morty. "D-don't take th-that tone with me, I-I-I coulda, you know--not gotten anything for your u-ungrateful ass."

Morty let out a purposefully loud and exaggerated sigh. "Fiiine. The bacon does smell good though."

Rick turned back to the stove, flipping the bacon over and causing it to make that mouthwatering sizzle again. "Right? You like bacon, Girl Morty?"

It took Morticia way too long to realize he was talking to her. But, when he turned around and looked right at her, felt herself freeze before she fumbled over her words, trying not to look stupid as she sat there fiddling with her fingers when she turned her gaze to the floor instead. "O-oh--um, y-y-yeah, I do. I like b-bacon."

"Good, because I-I-I bought like ten pounds of this stuff today. W-we're gonna be shitting bacon for a-a week."

Morty interjected. "Did you buy anything else?"

"Yeah." Rick sounded defensive for a moment, before growing silent and mumbling the words neither of them heard at first. "Y-you know. S-stuff..."

While Morty seated himself and Morticia at the nearby dinner table, he gave his Rick a sarcastic look. "Liiike?"

"Condoms."

Morticia felt as though she had choked on air, but Morty made a noise of disapproval before Rick turned once again and it looked like an argument was going to break out.

"Hey, y-you take a look a-a-at that mess downstairs a-a-and tell me we don't need to start asking--t-telling clients they n-need some damn rubber! It's disgusting wh-when--when you realize you've stepped i-in alien jizz and y-you've been walking around w-w-with that shit on the bottom of your shoe all night."

Instead of arguing with him, Morty just placed his head in his hands and let out a loud groan that sounded genuinely sick of this shit already. "Okay, jeez, just--stop talking about this before breakfast, okay?"

It was so odd to be the one witnessing an argument between a Morty and his Rick instead of being in the middle of the argument herself. Her arguments with Rick were always one sided, usually with him berating her intelligence or complaining about something she had done. But, these two. Their arguments were almost like mindless banter that could have been comical had Morticia not felt so odd sitting there watching it like she was and feeling awkward.

And Rick gave into his Morty so easily too, it was weird. Once he was asked to stop talking about it, he stopped, and went back to cooking the bacon. That was also weird seeing him bend over backwards so easily when simply asked to.

Morticia leaned back in her seat and inwardly sighed to herself. It must've been nice to be this way, living the life they lived without having to worry about random stupid adventures and all the bullshit that came with 'real life'. It was almost like they lived in a fantasy world, and they kind of did. They weren't on earth, they weren't being forced to conform to normal standards. They were literally off planet running a dance club and just living life.

Morticia stared down at the wooden tabletop and focused on the patterns in the wood. It would be kind of nice to live like that, she thought. She never thought her life would end up this way, anyway. Maybe she would get to experience that one day too.

As she sat lost in thought, she barely noticed when Rick dumped a plate in front of her before setting it full of still-sizzling bacon. “Th-thanks.” She still felt awkward talking to him, no matter what was being said, and felt her face flush with embarrassment when he moved over to the seat next to Morty and began devouring his breakfast.

She felt so awkward just being here. It was easier when it was just her and Morty doing their own thing, but with his Rick in the picture now, she felt so out of place, she almost didn’t want to eat the food in front of her. That would be rude, though, so she took a bite, relishing in the crunch inside of her mouth and felt her stomach growl in protest for what felt like days since she’d given in to a proper meal. Lately, all she’d been able to handle back at home were occasional trips to the kitchen to steal a pop tart or find an orange in the fridge. Because, when she sat down at the table, usually seated right next to her Rick, she lost all appetite she would’ve had otherwise.

Morticia couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten something this good. And it was weird, because she never took Rick, any Rick, as being a good cook, but they were all different. It wasn’t fair to judge them all just because her Rick did something this or that way.

As she sat there chomping on her bacon, she felt like she got lost in the moment, forgetting where she was, only focusing on eating the food and enjoying how it crunched, how perfect it was, and how nothing was wrong right now.

But, she barely registered it when Rick started talking to her. “S-s-so, Girl Morty, I heard y-you ran away from your universe.”

She perked up once she realized he was talking to her again, and raised her head from her plate to see him staring right at her, expecting a response. Feeling awkward yet again, Morticia swallowed the food in her mouth and tried to be as not awkward as possible when she answered. “Oh, uh…”

But Morty suddenly interjected from across the table in a chastising tone. “Rick, don’t call her that, jeez. She has a name.”

When Rick flipped his head around to Morty who sat beside him, it looked like an argument was about to break out. Maybe nothing violent, just harmless banter, but Morticia spoke up before Rick could start arguing. “Um! It’s okay, I don’t mind.” And she really didn’t. It was kind of cute that Morty was looking after her so much and how he worried things might offend her, but she wasn’t that sensitive. Honestly, she kind of preferred if his Rick didn’t use her name, but the fact he was calling her that didn’t bother her in the least.

“Yeah, M-Morty,” Rick said as he stuffed food into his mouth. “Quit being a little—a lil bitch.”

Well, she hadn’t meant for it to come across like that, but couldn’t help the smile that formed when Morty let out a loud sarcastic sigh. It was kind of nice like this, as awkward as it was, it wasn’t hostile, and she thought it was cute Morty seemed genuinely interested in her well-being. After all, she had literally crashed into their universe and had no right to be welcome, but they did so anyway. They could have turned her away and told her to go fuck off, but they didn’t.

She was here, eating breakfast at their table, in their house (or apartment, whatever), and Morty even let her sleep in his bed. It was more than she could have ever asked for, and wasn’t sure how she was going to repay the kindness. So, once everything had calmed back down again, she resumed eating breakfast, never remembering a time when bacon had tasted so good.


 

The dance club was the same as it had been the night before—empty and creepy. Morty stood next to her as he surveyed the area, mumbling things to himself, something other about the light fixture he wanted to fix, while Rick made his way to an adjacent door and complained about cleaning the jizz off the floor. Morticia wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to be doing, so she followed after Morty like a baby duck, hoping she wasn’t annoying him by doing so.

“Don’t worry,” Morty said as he dipped behind the bar for a moment to pull out an armful of empty booze bottles. “We’re not going to make you clean that up.”

He gestured toward a big trash bag which Morticia pulled open for him as he started disposing of the bottles. “Um…” She couldn’t help but feel awkward again. “What sh-should I be doing?”

“Well, you don’t have to do anything, hon, but if you really want, you can just help us clean up the place and get ready for opening hours.” He gave her a cheeky smile. “Won’t be for a while though. We don’t open until late.”

She nodded, though didn’t really understand what late was supposed to mean. From the rare windows she’d seen in this place, the planet they were on seemed to be in perpetual nightfall, so whatever late was supposed to mean seemed subjective. She hadn’t yet ventured outside of the building, but from what Morty told her, there wasn’t much to behold. They were on a small planet, inhabited by a few aliens here and there, but were a one stop kind of deal, with people mostly venturing to come to the club and then they’d go off planet for other things. It was a strange setup, but Morticia supposed it wasn’t any stranger than the shit she’d seen before.

Once they’d cleaned the empty bottles out, Morty pulled the back stock to the front before handing Morticia a pleasant-smelling piece of cloth. “You can wipe down the tables and stuff if you want.”

She nodded, determined to do a damn good job of cleaning those tables. They wouldn’t know what hit them. The bar was the biggest surface in the whole place, and they didn’t have many tables set up, as most of the space was for the dance floor, but she still took great care in wiping crumbs and the like off the surface of the tables. They were sparkling clean by the time she got done with them.

Morty had several piles of trash accumulated at the corner of the bar by the time he was done over there, and she walked back toward him, clutching at the cleaning cloth and wondering what she could do next. “U-um, can I help with anything else?”

Before he could open his mouth and respond, the door next to them flew open and Rick popped out, his pink jacket flared as he walked close to her. “Y-y-yeah, I got something you could do. Follow me.” He headed off toward the opposite end of the room to the door where the huge office lay behind it.

Morticia glanced at Morty for a split moment, not sure if she was supposed to do this, but he only rolled his eyes and shrugged, a sign whatever Rick was going to ask of her would be harmless and she could deny him if she really wanted. She took a breath, bracing herself and wondering what he could possibly want with her as she turned heel and followed him across the room.

He pulled open the door, holding it open for her as she entered the office and he made a beeline for the bookcases. “W-w-we got all our records n shit here. S-s-some are actually books though, don’t—don’t let that throw you off.” As he spoke, he pulled off a random book with a green binding and held it out for her to look at. “Y-you can, I-I-I don’t know, alphabetize these sons of bitches or something. S-s-sometimes we—we get stock records and—and financial records mixed up, s-so if you see anything, like, out of place, you—you can, like, put it in order, hell, I don’t know. Just make it look pretty.”

Soooo...he was basically asking her to be a book keep? She felt the sweat accumulate at the base of her neck when she looked to the shelves and shelves chocked full of books that lay before her. If he wanted her to organize this, there was no way she could do this before opening. Or, unless he didn’t expect that out of her and was just giving her useless work to do. Something to keep her busy and out of the way, so she didn’t have to be in the thick of all the action when people did start coming in.

That was fine, though, Morticia couldn't really see herself out there mingling with customers or doing anything like that. So, she twiddled her thumbs and nodded as he placed the green book back on the shelf, turning back around to face her. She felt scrutinized under his stare and couldn’t look him in the face, feeling a little nervous she was alone with him. Morty had started becoming her security blanket of sorts, so to not be around him, she felt exposed.

“Wh-why are you so jumpy, Girl Morty?”

She jumped at his question, feeling her face flush with embarrassment when she fumbled with her answer, still not able to look at him. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Look, have—have you ever been to Miami?”

The fuck? She finally looked up at him, confused as hell, and it must’ve shown on her face. That was the most off the wall question she’d ever been asked. “N-no…?”

He then turned back to the bookcase and began rummaging around for a specific book. “Sheesh, no wonder y-y-you’re such a nervous wreck. You need some sun, or some—some sand to chafe your skin, and some—some salt water to rinse away all those jittery nerves.” It was then that he pulled back what appeared to be a... photo album? That had been buried in the shelf.

Morticia was so confused as this Rick pulled open a random page before flipping it over and displaying to her a bunch of pictures, all of which showed various scenes of him and Morty on a beach. There were even a couple with Mom and Dad and Summer in them, all dressed in bathing suits. One picture had Mom sunbathing while on her back while Dad sat next to her and attempted to apply tanning oil on himself. And she spotted one picture of Morty and a very tanned Summer building a sand castle together.

“I-I mean, I’ve...been to the beach.” Her sentence trailed off a little when she spotted a picture of Morty sucking on a lollipop, his skin oily with tanning oil and shiny in the light of the sun. She felt her face heat up at the sight of the image, and felt gross she was staring at this other version of herself like this. What kind of weird pervert was she?

“But y-y-you haven’t been to the best beaches, I bet.” Rick closed the photo album before pushing it back into the bookcase. Just what was the point in showing her that? It was so out there, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond, so she just stood there, waiting for him to ask her a question that required a response. He then turned back, giving her an expectant look. “You should go to the beach one day.”

Was this this Rick’s way of...being nice? She stood there for a moment, twiddling her fingers again when she wasn’t sure what to say. The way he’d taken out old photos to show her was reminiscent of something an old grandpa would do, for memories sake, but she wasn’t part of those memories. She wasn’t part of any of this. Maybe him showing her that was a way of trying to tell her he meant no harm, without explicitly stating so. He had all the liberty to kick her out and shove her into space if he wanted, but he hadn’t made her feel unwelcome either.

Despite him being, well, a Rick, she felt no malice from him. Maybe the typical bitchiness that came with them all, but nothing evil. It was weird to feel herself begin to relax in the office then, even while she was alone with him, she knew before she had been afraid to even speak to him, because of what he reminded her of, but that wasn’t fair to him. Just like this Morty wasn’t her. She wasn’t this Morty and this Rick wasn’t like her Rick.

Once she was left by herself in the office, Morticia turned toward the bookcase and let out a sigh. This looked like it was going to be a bitch, and she’d never alphabetized something like this before. It wasn’t like it was a thing at her house. Nobody ever asked her to organize anything other than clean her room on occasion if it got way too messy, but she scanned over the shelves and very quickly found out that everything was in fact, not in order.

She sighed again, feeling overwhelmed before she’d even gotten started. Well, the only way something was going to get done was to do it. Tugging her braid behind her shoulder, Morticia began to pull down books.


 

It must’ve been hours she’d been in that office, shuffling through books, pulling down documents and files full of receipts and shit like that. Morticia felt like her eyes were going to fall out after having read so many book titles at that point, that she had to take a moment to put down what she was holding and stand up, stretch her back, rub her eyes, and let out a loud sigh. This felt like it was hopeless, but it was just menial work. She probably didn’t even need to do it, but Rick was doing her a favor by letting her stay out of the line of fire so to speak in order to do something behind closed doors.

She came upon the photo album again and couldn’t help herself. Seated onto the floor with her back against the bookcase, Morticia started flitting through the pages and saw the smiling, happy faces of Mom and Dad. Even if they weren’t hers, it still gave her a weird ache in her stomach for what she’d done. She wished there was a way she could go back home and see everyone again. Seeing Morty in the photos with their parents gave her even more weird feelings when she remembered how he told her he and his Rick just up and left them.

It had been so easy for them to do, but she still felt guilty for it. In these photos, these perfect scenes of happiness, maybe that’s all they were. Only screenshots of happiness in the moment. She couldn’t imagine this Morty being unhappy with his life, but for him to leave everything behind in favor of running a club, it was something unfathomable in her mind.

But, she wasn’t him. It was still a difficult concept for her to grasp, to come to terms with herself that just because they were the same didn’t make them the exact same people. She would never do what he did. She didn’t have the same hobbies as him, or even the same preference in clothes, decoration.

It gave her a sense of relief to realize how different he was from her after hanging around him for a while. Maybe it was bad of her to think of him like that, just another her, but he wasn’t. He was himself.

Just as she was caught up in her thoughts, Morticia became aware of the office door opening, and the sound barrier around her broke for a moment, allowing her to hear the screeching noises of the crowds of aliens outside, coupled with a loud bass of pounding music. It was jarring, and she slammed the photo album shut, placing it next to her and pretending she hadn’t been snooping.

Morty came through the door, covered in glitter and looking a little burnt out from partying, but he smiled when he spotted her on the floor. “You doing okay, hon?”

She nodded, grabbing a random book next to her to make it look like she hadn’t been slacking off. “Y-yeah. Still trying t-to get things in order.”

Morty rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why he’s making you do that. It’s not like it matters.”

“I-I don’t mind.”

“You let my Rick push you around too much. You oughta punch him in the balls when he starts his shit.”

Morticia couldn’t help but giggle as Morty walked over, nestling himself down beside her until he was on his knees. The overwhelming scent of citrus was present on him again, and she let the scent overtake her. She could get used to it. “I-I can’t do that. He’s really n-not that bad.”

“Whatever you say.” Morty pulled at his hair, taking his headband out from around his head before straightening his hair and fixing it back.

Morticia sat next to him, indulging in his company and the strong fruity scent on him as she thought of something to say. “Um…” There were a lot of things she wished she could have said, but most of it was lost on her as she sat there, struggling with her words. “I-I-uh, I don’t know how t-to repay you for all you’ve done.” She squeezed at her pants leg, feeling the blush take over.

“You shouldn’t think of it as repaying us. Come on.” He stood to his feet, offering a hand for her to do the same. “Take a break from this and let’s go get some food at the bar.”

She took his hand, allowing him to bring her to her feet and she straightened herself out. “O-okay.”

With Morty still grasping at her hand, he led her back out into the loud dance floor with the blaring music. Aliens danced all around her, making her feel a little claustrophobic, but Morty didn’t release her hand as he guided her, almost with expert fluidity, through the crowds and toward the bar. The alien bartender draped his arm over the counter like a stereotypical bartender would as Morty finally released her hand once they were settled down into their seats.

“Hey, give us a hotdog or something.”

Morticia’s stomach growled at the mention of food again. God, she was feeling so famished lately, but it was probably from not eating properly for weeks. “A-and some soda.” She was dying for something carbonated right now too.

The bartender only spent a few minutes rummaging around behind the counter before giving them each a hotdog and a glass of soda. Morticia wasted no time in devouring her food and her soda. Probably wasn’t a good idea to down her soda so fast, as it made her hiccup and burp, but she didn’t care right now. Morty wasn’t as into his food as she was, sipping at his soda and took maybe two bites out of his hotdog, but Morticia had finished her meal in what felt like seconds.

It felt good to eat food like this and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she was here with him, with Morty, and felt safe around him. He gave her a smile once she was done with her food, pushing the plate and glass away from her before Morty took her hand again.

Through the loud music, the bass that pounded through her and felt like it was rattling her very bones, she could still make out his words when he asked, “Do you want to dance?”

And felt the blush gush on her face as she sat there. This wasn’t her place at all, being at a nightclub with all these aliens around, smashing their bodies into each other as they moved to the upbeat music that was oh so loud, but she couldn’t help but feel drawn into Morty’s genuine smile, his gentle grip he had on her hand, and she felt her gaze fall to the floor for a moment, where a pattern of strobe lights was making a design, before she looked back up at him and nodded.

If it was with him, she couldn’t really say no. And he smiled as he stood from his seat and led her out onto the floor, never once being too hasty or pulling her too hard. He coaxed her along, until they were in the most secluded spot in the very corner of the floor, away from most of the crowds where nobody would bump into them. Morty took her by both hands then, leading her into a dance she couldn’t follow to save her life, but he laughed, the lights from above making his glittery face sparkle as he tried once again.

Morticia couldn’t help but laugh back, and laugh at herself as she tried to move with the music, the loud pounding electronic music that she could feel shaking her core, but she probably lacked rhythm. Morty didn’t get frustrated with her when he released her hands enough to give her her own space and let her form her own dance as he started bouncing up and down to the music. Morticia followed his lead, jumping with him and found herself laughing at herself again. This was so weird, dancing with an alternate version of herself from another universe, but maybe she was just thinking too hard about it.

She let herself get lost in that moment, jumping up and down with Morty while he laughed in front of her, when he took her by the arm to twirl her around and she couldn’t help spitting out the ugliest laughs as she turned in a circle to face him again. Morticia couldn’t remember a time feeling like this, feeling as though she were so caught up in the moment she finally let her body do what it wanted as she let Morty lead her, as she danced with him and laughed until she lost her breath.

She wasn’t a dancer by any means, but maybe it didn’t matter in this circumstance. She was positive if it weren’t for her being here, Morty would have danced far more freely, but she wasn’t worried about that. When the song changed, Morticia took a moment to catch her breath, and felt sweaty from having danced so hard. Not that she’d ever danced with anyone like that, but she heaved, bending over to suck in gulps of air before looking back up at Morty who appeared like he hadn’t broken a sweat.

He smiled at her, extending his hand again for her to take, which she did.

It was then that she heard a sound, the most familiar sound she could distinguish anywhere of a portal opening. Morticia flipped her head in the direction of the sound, to witness just that. A portal opening right there on the dance floor. The aliens from around it dispersed, some screeching what she could only imagine were swears in their language as someone stepped out of the portal onto the dance floor.

Her blood ran cold when she watched as a Rick stepped out of the portal, frantically turning his head back and forth as though searching for something. The portal closed behind him and he began pushing the aliens around him out of his way as he whirled around in all directions, seeming desperate. The aliens around him pushed him back, and it looked like a fight was about to break out, but the Rick from this universe appeared on the scene, and even from where she stood, Morticia could make out his loud words as he yelled at the Rick who just appeared.

“H-hey, pal, what’s y-y-your problem?”

There was no fucking way this could be her Rick. There was no way he could have found her this fast after what she did to him, when she was so sure she had killed him. This couldn’t be her Rick. It couldn’t.

But, the Rick shoved Morty’s Rick back, almost pushing him to the floor, and she heard it when he screamed at the top of his lungs, “WHERE IS SHE?!” And Morticia’s chest heaved.

She took a step back, almost tripping over Morty who stood behind her, also watching the scene, but he shifted when she moved, and she whirled around to him, feeling the hysterics begin to overtake her and she wanted to cry as she clung to the front of his shirt.

Morty gripped at her wrists, his face contorted into worry as she stood holding onto him. “H-hon, what’s wrong?”

“Him.” Her words were small, and she doubted he heard her over the music, but she couldn’t muster much more than that in this state. She was about to break down into hysterical sobs and she couldn't fucking deal with this. “It’s him.” She turned back to stare at the fight about to break out, her hands shaking.

Morty looked away from her back at the scene of his Rick recovering from being shoved only to shove the other Rick back and shout at him. “Th-the fuck are you talking about, y-y-you dumbass?!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you cock sucker! I tracked her coordinates here, I know you have her, now where is—” As he spoke, Rick had turned back around to search, and it was then that his eyes landed straight on her.

Morticia stood frozen when he spotted her from across the room, when he stood staring, as though in disbelief for a few seconds that he had found her through a throng of aliens that danced between them, but it was unmistakable. She seized up, feeling as though she had stopped breathing when he stared at her.

She knew it was him. There was no doubt this was her Rick, and she had been stupid to think she could run away from him so easily.

The moment he stood staring at her, looking shocked for a split second as their eyes met, time seemed to freeze, all the sounds stopped, and Morticia wondered if everything really had stopped. But, it was only a second. A small, insignificant second before he lunged for her, pushing past the crowds, tearing through the people in front of him to get at her, and Morticia screamed when she flinched back.

The other Rick had tackled him, throwing himself on his back, and pulled him down to the ground where they proceeded to punch and kick each other. Morticia could only stare in that moment, watch as they wrestled and clawed at each other like animals, but Morty yanked at her arm and she found herself being whisked away from the dance floor, across the room to the door that read ‘Do Not Enter’ above it in big letters.

The sound barrier around the apartment kicked in once Morty slammed the door shut behind them, and pulled Morticia up the stairs and into the hallway. She was crying by that moment, crying hysterical tears and panicking, wanting to throw up and sob at the same time, her entire body completely hysteric as she dry heaved and sobbed in Morty’s hold.

“Quick, where’s the portal gun?!”

She tried to talk, but only sobbed. She couldn't fucking handle this. She couldn’t take this.

Morty let go of her wrists long enough to grab her by both arms and pull her close, his voice, while not fearful or angry, still stern and rushed when he spoke. “Morticia, come on, where’s the portal gun?! We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? It’s gonna be okay!”

Through her blubbering, she managed to spit out, “D-dresser,” and that was all it took before Morty was tugging her along through the hallway toward his bedroom. Just where she left it, the portal gun rested atop his dresser, the coordinates for the Citadel still flashing on the screen below, and Morty gripped it in his hand before pulling the trigger and opening a portal right there in his room and shoving the gun into her arms.

He gripped onto her arms a final time. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise. You’ll find someone there who will help you, okay? You’ve got to get a grip and focus.”

Despite his words, Morticia was trying so hard to stop losing her fucking mind right then and there. She was so stupid to think this would work out, that Rick wouldn’t find her here. She was so fucking stupid to think this kind of life was going to be her future.

She was stupid to think this would last. That he wouldn’t find her eventually.

But, she wiped at her face, nodding to Morty who gave her a quick hug, and a reassuring smile. “Be safe.” And he shoved her through the portal.

Morticia felt that familiar feeling of everything going way too fast around her, before stopping suddenly. With the portal gun clutched in her hands, she toppled onto the cement ground and almost bashed her face on the floor when she lost her balance and fell to her knees, wincing out in pain when her knee connected and she swore between her teeth.

The portal closed behind her and Morticia looked up to find herself in what appeared to be a shady looking back alley. If she didn’t know she was on the Citadel, she could have easily mistaken it for a random back alley in the city, but she knew better. The darkened sky above her and the slums of the view around her gave her the sense she was in an unwelcome place, if not dangerous.

She stood to her feet, still sniffling, still trying to get a grip on herself and stop crying long enough to compose herself and figure out what in hell she was going to do. Her knee throbbed in pain when she put pressure on it, and she flinched, quaking under the pain for a moment, but she couldn’t falter to it. This was nothing. This was like when she was a kid and would fall down all the time, scraped and bruised, but this was nothing.

Hobbling over to the nearby building, Morticia propped herself up next to it and pulled her capri pants leg back to see a nasty bruise forming on her knee. It was only a bruise. She was going to have to make a break for it and start running, because Rick would find her if she hung around here for long. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off the side of the building, and made her way out of the alleyway.

A cityscape lay before her, but nothing unlike she’d seen. If it weren’t for the fact this was the Citadel, she would have mistaken it for a normal city. The only thing that really stood out were the flying cars and weirdly mechanized transportation systems. Even from where she stood, she saw a gaggle of Mortys walking down the sidewalk, chatting as though everything were normal. A crowd of Ricks were stationed in front of what appeared to be some sort of electronics shop, and were chatting noisily while the Mortys minded their own business.

Despite being in a town composed of other versions of herself, Morticia felt out of place just witnessing this. Where in the hell was she supposed to go? Which Ricks and Mortys did she know were going to be helpful to her and be on her side? She had a strong feeling not all of them were going to be like the ones she’d met before, super nice and welcoming. She already didn’t feel welcome in this place. It gave her bad vibes no matter how she looked at it, but maybe she was being presumptuous. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad.

Taking a step from her spot in between the alleyway, Morticia found herself out on the sidewalk, and immediately became aware of the stares she was receiving. It made her shrink in on herself and she knew that they knew she was an outsider here, and didn’t belong. What if they tackled her and called her out for being an unregistered Morty or something? What if she got arrested? She clutched at the portal gun in her hands tighter before heading in a random direction to begin walking, but a Morty suddenly ran up in front of her, stopping her.

“Holy shit, holy shit!” His voice was frantic as he pulled at his hair, tipping back and forth on his feet and he looked about ready to have a nervous breakdown. Morticia was about to ask what was wrong, but he cut her off. “Y-you’ve got a portal gun? A real portal gun? Please, let me have it! I wanna go home! D-d-do a Morty a solid a-and let me go home, please!”

She clutched the portal gun closer to her. Oh fuck, that’s why they were staring at her. She forgot the portal guns were considered contraband in this place and most Ricks and Mortys would kill to get their hands on one. Fuck, she’d been so stupid, why didn’t she hide it before stepping out into the open like that? Panicking, Morticia didn’t respond to the Morty before turning on her heels and fleeing back down the street, the Morty calling after her. She could hear his voice screeching after her as he chased her.

“Hey! This Morty h-has a portal gun! Guys! She’s got a-a portal gun!”

Fuck, she had fucked up insanely bad this time. Whirling around the corner, Morticia dove back into the alleyway she had come from and dashed through. When her eyes spotted a small section between the buildings she could squeeze through, she wasted no time in pushing herself between the cracks and out the other side. The small opening led her to another section on the other side of the street and she didn’t let up for a second. Morticia ran and ran like her life depended on it and she was running on pure adrenaline at this point, letting it fuel her, letting it take all the stress and the bad thoughts and the idea that someone was chasing her about to grab her any second only make her run faster as she sprinted across the street, past several more Ricks and Mortys who gave her confused looks as she flew past them, not giving them a chance to catch up with what was happening.

She didn’t stop. Morticia saw a building up ahead with neon lights and posters outside and figured it was some sort of late night business, but she dove into the corners of the alleyway next to it instead, hoping the darkness would give her some cover from anyone who might be chasing her. A large dumpster was seated outside of the back door of the business and she hid behind it, finally stopping to catch her breath.

It didn’t appear as though anyone were chasing her, so she leaned against the building and sucked in air, feeling as though her heart was going to be ripped from her chest. She lost them. She actually lost them. Morticia couldn’t even sigh in relief as she stood trying to catch her breath and gain her bearings. Her chest hurt from sprinting like that as she’d never been a runner, and despite going on all the adventures with Rick in the past, that never seemed to strengthen her muscles.

She took a moment when her chest stopped hurting to crouch down and breathe as she clutched onto the portal gun. It felt sweaty in her palms now from the run and she sat wondering just what in the fuck was she supposed to do now? Morty told her someone here would help her, but maybe he hadn’t accounted for the fact the portal gun itself would be a problem. How was she supposed to find help if everyone was going to try and steal this thing from her? She needed something to hide it in without looking suspicious.

Just as she’d turned to the dumpster beside her, ready to dig around in the trash for something, anything that could help her, she froze when a noise sounded beside her. Someone moaned, as though just roused from sleep, and she whirled around to see that someone was indeed right next to her, hidden underneath a pile of dirty blankets and newspapers. As they pulled themselves up, she saw it was a very shaggy looking Rick who looked worse for wear and she could only assume he was homeless.

“Th-the fuck you doin’?” His words were slightly slurred as though he’d been sleeping off a hangover, and she started at first, her first instinct being to run away, but she held the portal gun behind her back, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“S-sorry, I-I didn’t know anyone was back here.” She tried to inch her way away from him and run off in another direction, but he spoke to her again.

“Oh well, look at you. Been awhile since I-I’ve seen a girl Morty. What’s wrong, sweetie, y-you lost?” And the way he spoke to her made her skin crawl. She felt that familiar urge to vomit rise in her stomach, and took a step back again.

“N-no, I’m just—”

He rose, towering over her and despite his appearance, intimidated her at the same time. “You looking for a new Rick? I need a new Morty anyway. Don’t worry, I-I don’t care if you’re a girl.”

She tried to turn as she inched her way backward away from him. “No, I just…” And as she turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm, making her flinch and wince out in initial shock.

“Don’t be that way, you can—” And he stopped as he pulled her arm back and caught sight of the portal gun. “Holy shit! Y-you’ve got a portal gun!” He tugged on her arm and made to grab at it. “Give it to me!”

Morticia panicked, pulling back on the device as he gripped at the edge to yank it from her grasp. “No, stop!”

“Th-the fuck is a Morty doing w-with a portal gun? Give it to me r-right now, you little bitch!”

When she refused to let go, tugging back away from him, the Rick instead reached forward at her, and slapped her across the face. The impact caused Morticia to stumble, and she almost fell, but she didn’t dare let go of the portal gun. The Rick lunged at her instead, making to wrap his fingers around her throat and he hissed through his teeth.

“Give me the goddamn portal gun right now, or I’ll kill you!”

And something shot across the way, hitting the Rick straight through his head. It looked like a stray bullet, but the moment it made contact, he disintegrated and crumbled into ash right before her. Morticia fell over backwards in horror at the scene, flinching as though she were about to be next, and clutched the portal gun close to her chest. She let out a strangled sob as she couldn’t seem to rip her eyes away from the pile of ash in front of her, at the thought this had just been a person, but the voice that sounded behind her made her freeze.

“Morti.”

The voice was eerily calm, but undercoated with an immense anger she couldn’t even begin to describe. Morticia didn’t have to turn around to see who was standing behind her. She didn’t have to confirm to herself just who had shot the Rick who attacked her. But she did anyway. If she denied this any longer, she was going to lose her mind, but she should have known from the beginning, from the moment she tried to drug him, that it was going to fail. She was going to fail.

She turned, and saw him. Rick stood behind her, a gun held up in his hand, still in the firing position from where he shot the other Rick, and he stared at her in such a way that she should have broken down into sobs right then and there. She should have felt something, like irrational fear from the way he looked at her. That stare that could bear right through her, the stare that was slowly sinking in that this should have become obvious to her from the beginning how hopeless this was. She was stupid to think he wouldn’t track her down. She was stupid to think she could get away from him.

He was always going to win.

Lowering the gun, he began to approach her, and she stood to her feet, shaky, but clutched at the portal gun by her side. She could feel the sting in her cheek from where the other Rick slapped her, and the pain in her knee from where she’d crashed onto the cement ground, but none of that mattered now. Nothing mattered. She couldn’t bring herself to be hysteric she was once again seeing him, once again being scrutinized under his stare, and once again about to be dragged back to whatever hellhole he had in store for her.

“I-I-I gotta say, Morti. Never expected you to have balls.” He let out a fake laugh, but one that was coated with so much sarcasm, all she could hear was the underlying anger that rested beneath it. He was so angry with her, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he pulled the trigger on the gun and shot her right now. “And-and what a surprise I-I get when I wake up to see you’ve stolen my fucking portal gun and bailed. What, did you think you killed me or something?”

She didn’t answer, but she knew it was a rhetorical question. She only stared back, clutching the gun in her hands and letting him rant at her.

“You think I wasn’t going to find you? A-are you really that stupid, Morti? Y-you think you can just—just bail on me and go frolicking around the universe like a dumbass and th-think I won’t be able to—to track you? Did you forget who I am or what?”

He was still oddly calm, even through his ranting, he wasn’t yelling. He hadn’t boiled over yet, but she could feel it. Morticia could feel how close he was to rushing over to throttle her any second now. This eerie calmness he was displaying was only a facade. And he was probably waiting for her to make a move and then everything would explode.

But she didn’t care. If this was how this was going to end, Morticia didn’t fucking care anymore. She’d spent so long being afraid of him, so long trying to get away from him, and when she finally had some happiness in her grasp, he ripped it away from her. He was trying to drag her back down, but she wasn’t going to let him.

If he was going to do this to her, she would fight him and she didn’t care if it killed her.

Morticia took a step toward him and glared at him. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, huh?”

He frowned for a moment, not amused, but it quickly turned into a sarcastic sneer. “Ohh, you’ve still got some attitude left in you. What a shocker.” He took another step forward. “Y-you know, after what you did, I should probably tell Beth everything. She probably won’t like to hear how her daughter got her grandpa drunk in order to spike his drink and touch him in his sleep.”

Her face flushed, but she knew he was lying. He’d been bullshitting her for months now, and she wasn’t going to let him jerk her along. “Like fuck. You’re a-a goddamn liar, and you know it, Rick.”

“Am I, Morti?” He narrowed his eyes, glaring right back at her. “You’re such a—such a fucking stupid kid, I swear to god. You don’t know anything, and—and the fact I haven’t told your mom anything yet—you should be thanking me.” He was upon her now, so close he could reach out and grab her if he wanted, and with him so close, she could practically see the fire behind his eyes, that unmitigated anger he was holding down in favor of this calm front he was holding up.

She wasn’t going to back down from him. When he moved close to her, she only glared back at him and held her stance. “Gee, thank you, Rick for being an absolute bastard. Thank you for drugging me and having sex with me and making me go crazy whenever I’d wake up the next day because I thought I was forgetting to put my clothes on and getting sick. Thank you for making me break up with my girlfriend because you’re a jealous asshole incapable of keeping his fucking hands to himself. Thank you for everything, Rick.”

Her entire spill was laced with utmost sarcasm, and she saw it in his face. The twisted emotions he went through as she spoke, the anger that bubbled underneath that he looked to be trying so hard to keep himself composed and not explode. He grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes as she spoke, and she saw him squeeze the gun in his hands, his knuckles turning white and shaking. She knew he was only getting angrier, maybe even angry enough to shoot her, but fuck it if she gave a single shit. “Oh sure, Morti, b-blame it all on me. F-fucking make me out to b-be some creepy pervert, but I never saw you complain when you came around my cock and called out my name, Morti.”

Her face flushed with shame, but she knew he was only trying to get to her. “You’re fucking insane. Justify it all you want to, but you’re fucking insane, Rick.”

Instead of responding, he made a move toward her, as though he were about to grab her, and she could hear the low tone his voice dropped to as he spoke. “We’re going home, Morti.”

This time, she flinched back away from him, if he did decide to grab her, and held onto the portal gun in case he tried to snatch it from her. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well, th-that’s too fucking bad you think that, Morti.” It was then he placed the disintegration gun back into his coat pocket. What he pulled out instead was something Morticia never thought she’d see again. He produced a capped syringe full of liquid from his pocket and the mere sight of it sent chills down her spine. “I-I’ll even give you a choice, Morti. You—you can hand me the portal gun and we’ll w-walk back through no problem. Or.” He gestured toward the syringe. “I can drug you and drag you back.”

Morticia stared at the syringe in his hand, and he was actually expecting her to make a choice. No goddamn way she would go with him willingly. If he thought she was just going to give up now, then he was fucking stupid. She held the portal gun close to her, almost hugging it, when she glared up at him, at his expectant face, and she wanted to spit on him, wanted to tell him to go die in an alleyway, or go suffocate in space, but instead she opted for, “Go fuck yourself.”

And he didn’t like that. He probably knew she wasn’t going to make this easy, as she could see it in his expression when he squeezed the syringe in his hands so hard, she was sure he was about to break the damn thing, but he only let out a loud, agitated sigh, before glaring back down at her. “Fine. Fucking fine, Morti. You fucking—fucking asked for this.” And he lunged for her.

Morticia flinched back as he made to grab at her shoulders, and she wasn’t sure if he was planning to hold her down first and jam that thing in her neck or brute force his way and just drag her back kicking and screaming. Either way, when he threw himself at her, her instincts took over and she swung out the portal gun at him, bashing it across his face and she saw a patch of blood form on his cheek from where she hit him. Not wasting a second, she turned and ran down the alleyway, pushing herself, letting her adrenaline take over and she didn’t care where the fuck she ended up, as long as she was away from him.

“Goddammit, Morti!”

His hand made contact with the back of her shirt and he pulled, yanking her out of her sprint and almost choking her as she was pulled back and she tripped. That tiny moment she fell over herself was all it took for him to grab hold of her arm and wrestle her to the ground where he straddled her.

“Get off me, you piece of shit, get off!” Morticia flailed underneath him, struggling, not giving up for even a second as she waved the portal gun back and forth, hoping to catch him in the face again and bash his head in.

Rick grabbed her wrist, the hand she held the gun in, and in one quick motion, pulled at her fingers until she dropped it. He held her arm down to the ground, but she still had one free hand. Using all the strength she could muster, Morticia used her opposite hand to punch him in the face, hoping to unbalance him and he would fall off her.

He was unbalanced, if only for a moment, and she took the advantage to scramble out from under him and climb to her feet. Just as she began to dash away from him, he grabbed her ankle, and she tripped again, falling to the ground and almost bashed her face against the cement below her. She fell, hitting against her already bruised knee and she cried out in pain at the spot being subjected to this kind of impact once again.

She felt it when he began to crawl back on top of her, his weight already beginning to hold her down until she felt her body being pushed into the ground, but she wasn’t going to let him do this to her. Morticia whirled around to him, making to strike at him again, punch his face, claw at his eyes if she had to, but as she whirled around under him to face him, he was one step ahead of her. Rick reached out, and in one quick motion, wrapped his hands around her neck. Morticia choked out a gasp, not expecting it when he pulled her up by her throat, only to slam her head back down into the cement.

The impact underneath her as the back of her head made contact with the ground made her teeth rattle and she slammed her eyes shut when she felt as though everything in her head was knocked senseless for a moment. When she opened her eyes, dazed and with a headache already throbbing, she saw black spots in her vision and had to blink them away for a few seconds before she realized Rick was straddling her again, having pulled the cap off the syringe. Her initial reaction was to freeze when she watched him aim for her neck, ready to jam that thing into her, and she gained her senses long enough to reach up and grab his wrist, stopping him.

“No! No, no, no, why the fuck are you doing this?! You fucking piece of shit, I hate you! I hate you!”

He paused for a moment, only a moment to give her a stare, but it wasn’t laced with that anger he’d held before, nor that eerie calmness he was faking, but instead—he gave her a look she thought she recognized as pity. “You don’t get it, Morti. You haven’t gotten it for months, and you still don’t get it.” His grip on the syringe began to shake as he squeezed it. “But, I’m going to make you get it. You’re going to understand even if it takes years. Even if I-I have to keep you locked up in that bunker for goddamn years—you’re going to get it then.”

“Rick.” She knew as she lay under him, her strength fleeting as she gripped onto his wrist, the wrist that was shaking as he squeezed the syringe that held the drug he was going to stick her with. She knew from the beginning this was all pointless, but even still, she wanted to have some kind of hope deep down that things didn’t have to be this way. She wanted to imagine a future without him, a future in which he got bored with her and she was allowed to live her life normally. A future maybe with that other Rick and Morty, even if it wasn’t her thing, she knew it would have been better than this. Anything was better than this. “Please, don’t do this.”

There was no point in arguing with him. There was no point in begging him, when she knew nothing, absolutely goddamn nothing she said was ever going to matter. She couldn’t even drug him and run away without him catching her and dragging her back to that place. Morticia couldn’t even navigate the Citadel and find help. She was so stupid to think this would ever work. She was stupid to think she could have a future without him.

He knew that and she knew that.

Morticia was never, ever going to get away from him.

She was going to die with him.

Without responding to her, without even acknowledging her words, Rick pulled his wrist from her grip before jamming the needle into her neck. It was only a few seconds before Morticia saw blackness in her vision.

 

Chapter Text

The overwhelming feeling of the cold air around her almost choked her when she came to her senses. It was difficult, it was so difficult with the fog in the back of her mind, that heavy state of grogginess she had been used to once before, but now it was there again. That shouldn't have been a surprise, and it wasn't, but she forced her eyes open, fighting through the blur in her vision to make out the ceiling above her.

It was dark, the only source of light being the solutions of green liquid glowing iridescent around her, bubbling and churning. That was a familiar sound, but nothing she was too familiar with at the same time. She knew she was in the bunker. She knew, despite some confusion at first, where he had dragged her back to of all places. It wasn't a big shocker or anything.

But, the cold. It took Morticia way too long to realize she was naked, and only when she attempted to move her arms and lift herself did it hit her that she could not move at all. Her arms were held above her, tied together with a tight leather strap that she could feel had already rubbed her wrists raw, and the pain slowly sank in when she struggled, barely struggled, but the sting was prominent, and she only whimpered a little at the feeling of it.

She wasn't sure what he had done to her, but she wasn't on the mattress. The surface below her was cold and metallic, only making her shiver that much more from being stripped of her clothes, and she could only assume he had placed her onto a table of some sorts. Like a true mad scientist, as though he were going to operate on her. Honestly at this point, she wouldn't be surprised if he did snap and began sticking her with sharp objects.

The haze in her mind wasn't making waking up any easier. As she lay struggling on the table, barely able to move in this position, her arms sore from being forced above her, she became aware of something shuffling from the other side of the room. Her position didn't allow her to lean up and see what it was, but she felt too weak to even bother if she could.

But, she heard his voice. His voice that, once he spoke, sounded raspy, slurred as though he'd been drinking for a while, and still undercoated with that hint of anger she could still make out. "M-Morti..."

Morticia closed her eyes for a moment, feeling that initial creep of her chest tighten at the mere sound of his voice, and she couldn't help but choke on a sob when she did. Even though she knew he was in here somewhere, even though she knew what was coming after what she'd done to him. She didn't have the energy to cry right now, but when she opened her eyes, he was in her vision, having walked over to the table where he now stood over her, a bottle of liquor clutched in his hands.

When Morticia spoke, she was surprised at the sound of her own voice. It was as though the life had been sucked from her, and she couldn't believe how pathetic she sounded, but what did that matter? "Wh-why don't you just kill me?" And she was completely serious, even as she turned away from him, not wanting to look at his face anymore. Not wanting to see his drunken expression, though still very, very intimidating, still very aware of what he was doing.

"Why don't you stop asking stupid questions?"

"I'm not fucking stupid, Rick." Her tone had lowered when she turned to stare him right in the face. He didn't budge. Didn't waver, not even as she glared up at him. He only took a swig from his bottle before wiping his mouth and looked away from her for a moment, before shrugging.

He only paused for a moment before answering, as though unsure what exactly to say. "No, you're not, Morti."

It was then that he set his bottle down, and she felt it when he began to crawl on top of her. Morticia wanted to cry out. There was never a time when this happened when she didn't feel the need to beg and scream for help, to go running to her mom, to try and play on his sympathy to make him stop.

But, nothing would make him stop. She could yell and scream at him all day, she could beg and plead with him, she could scream in his face that he was a fucking pervert, but it would do no good. He wasn't going to listen to her no matter what she said, and she cringed when he had crawled over her, and she could do little but stare up at his waning expression.

The way he looked at her, when he first stumbled into the room, and she knew he was so pissed off, was different now. As he straddled her, hovering over her the way he was, she felt a terrible feeling enter her stomach when she saw his eyes soften, half-lidded, as he stared at her. As he reached up with his hand and ran it through her hair, she seized up below him, expecting him to rip at her hair and scream at her, pull at her roots until she was crying from the pain, or scratch at her face until there was blood.

He only looked at her, his eyes glazed, and Morticia couldn't move an inch when he spoke, so low, it was almost a whisper. "I-I didn't think I was ever going to see you again."

Her heart pounded, almost painfully in her chest, so hard she was sure he could hear it, and she wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry out for someone to help her, someone to save her. Morticia wanted to be saved, but all she could do was lie there and look at Rick as he ran his fingers through her hair.

It was way too soft, and she was scared. He was going to hurt her, she knew it.

"I-I know you don't think about things like this, M-Morti, but y-you know if you don't know how to work the portal gun, it c-could send you somewhere dangerous. You lucked the fuck out when you jumped through that portal and ended up where you did." He tugged a strand of her hair, only hard enough for her to notice, but not hard enough for pain. "You could have died, y-you know."

"So?" Her voice was hard pressed, and she was scared as she lay underneath him while he played with her hair, where he had all the liberty to pull if he wanted, but she didn't know if she cared or not. "Th-there's infinite Morticias, right? Y-you can just get a-a new one. Maybe one wh-who's on board with your creepy bullshit." She knew all she was doing was making him angry, but she didn't give a shit right now.

She saw it in his face, when he frowned, when he swayed a little from the liquor hitting him, but he only gave her a sarcastic smirk, tugging once more at her hair. "Th-the fuck you still on that for? I-I already told you, that doesn't matter--"

"Why? Why doesn't it matter?" She was getting heated, the haze leaving her the more she lay there, and the more she was starting to feel suffocated, but there was little she could do in this situation to fight him other than argue. If he was already planning to hurt her, how much worse could she make it by pissing him off?

"It doesn't matter, because they aren't you."

She felt tears well in her eyes then, but didn't let them fall. She only stared back at him, refusing to let him intimidate her. "So th-that's it? Y-you don't even care how I feel about it? Y-you don't even care th-that th-this is fucked up o-or that you're a fucking creep?"

"Morti." He pulled.

It was such a small, almost insignificant motion on his part, but when he pulled her hair, Morticia couldn't help but freeze underneath him, flinching when he did so, when he looked down at her with lidded eyes and tugged her hair so hard she felt tears come to her eyes from the pain. He was angry, she knew that arguing with him was only going to make him angry, make him hurt her, but while she lay down in this position, Morticia wasn't sure what was worse. This was going to happen to her over and over. She had already accepted that. How many times was she going to have to accept that this was going to happen to her, but how many times was she going to pretend she had a fighting chance, even if her fighting chance meant arguing with him? Even if she pissed him off, even if she was in the right, it didn't matter. Nothing Morticia did mattered.

Even if she got on her hands and knees and begged him, pleaded with him, she knew he wouldn't listen to her. He was never going to listen to her.

"Morti." He repeated her name, his voice coated in a slur of alcohol as he moved into her face, and she instinctually pulled away from him, knowing he was going to kiss her. All he did was grip her jaw with his hand he'd been pulling her hair with, and yanked her back until she was forced to stare at him. "Y-you wanna know something, Morti? Y-you don't know anything, b-but I'm going to tell you something." He moved so close, she could feel the heat of his breath on her, she felt the scent of alcohol waft all around her until she felt like she was drowning in it, and the sight of his lidded eyes staring at her that way--she felt sick. He always made her fucking sick to her stomach, and she reeled back in disgust as he forced her to look at him by holding her chin. "Y-you can call me a pervert all you want. Blame me all you want, Morti. I don't care. You wanna sit there and cry about it? Go ahead, Morti, fucking do it. C-cry about it. Y-you've been living in a sugar-coated fantasy world for too long."

A sob coiled in her throat, but she didn't dare let it out. Morticia was trying so hard not to break down in front of him. Nothing she said was going to matter to him, so what was the goddamn point? "R-Rick..." She couldn't even think of anything to say to him, her voice was trembling so much and she choked on her words.

He only continued to stare as he spoke, his voice low. "I'm not letting you back out of here, Morti. W-we're staying in the bunker until I-I can figure out wh-what the hell I'm going to do with you."

His words only made her begin to shake when she felt that ever-present terror she could never seem to get used to when she was around him. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't know if I'm taking you off planet or not." He shrugged, swaying a little from the effects of the alcohol, but he finally let go of her chin, shifting in his position until she felt his weight on top of her and it was smothering. "Or maybe we'll just go to another universe, huh? With another Beth and your dumbass father? You wanna have to sneak around them too?"

He was insane, he was fucking insane. Morticia felt the horror swell up inside her until it felt like it was going to burst and she choked on her sobs again as she lay underneath him, not able to breathe. "Y-you can't keep me away from Mom and Dad, Rick."

"You had no problems bailing on them before. Don't give me that bullshit, Morti."

Morticia opened her mouth to protest, to say something to him, anything--but he moved into her so fast then, and kissed her, she had no time to say what she had to say. All she could do was writhe in her position with her arms held uselessly above her head, chafing from the burn of the leather as she struggled under him. He pressed against her so hard, even as she thrashed under him, even as her cries of disgust and terror were muffled in his mouth, there was nothing she could do.

It was when he stuck his tongue in her mouth that Morticia did the only thing in that moment she thought to do--she bit him. Hard. Without thinking, without even considering the consequences of doing so, Morticia bit the blood out of him, feeling as he yanked himself off her, screeching in pain as he pulled back, and blood dribbled down his chin.

Moving his hand up to wipe his chin, she saw it in his face--that momentary flash of anger as the pain sobered him up, and then he reached down to her, and wrapped both hands around her throat. Morticia choked, staring up at him in horror as he strangled her, as he yanked her up by her throat only to bash her head against the table, striking an already tender spot from how he had smashed her against the concrete earlier.

"Oh--oh, so you're going to be like this all of a sudden, huh, Morti? Y-you gonna fucking play like this, Morti, huh?!" Picking her back up, he bashed her back against the table, and she could only yelp in pain as he did it over and over. "Y-you don't give a fuck do you, Morti? Y-you didn't care if you killed yourself when you stole my portal gun, did you?! Y-you didn't care if you killed me either, did you? Y-you just don't give a shit, do you?!" He pulled up on her again, smashing the back of her head so hard against the table, Morticia saw spots in her vision and could have sworn she blacked out, but the sound of his voice brought her back to reality. "You don't even know the grief I went through, or what the fuck you even do to me, Morti! Goddamn, you r-really fucking don't know."

"No, I fucking don't!" She was yelling, in as dazed a state as she was from having her head bashed against the table as she could, but she yelled right back at him. "I don't fucking understand anything you do, Rick! I don't understand h-how you can be this way, o-or think what you're doing is okay! I don't want it! I don't want this and I-I never fucking will!"

A long bout of silence fell over the bunker, until all Morticia could hear was her heavy breathing as she sucked in air from being choked, and the bubbling of the liquid around her from the containers of solutions. Rick sat above her, staring down at her, having released his hands from her neck, and she was prepared for another onslaught of violence, for him to slap her, scratch her, or choke her again, but he just let out a loud sigh before he spoke in a strangely calm, low voice. "You're going to understand one day, Morti."

Morticia choked and felt as though everything inside of her was hurting. He was hurting, sitting on top of her. Her stomach hurt. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt and she felt like crying when it even hurt to talk to him. "Rick, wh-why does it have to be this way?" She couldn't hold back any longer, and felt the tears fall down. She hadn't meant to cry in front of him, hadn't wanted to--but she always did. It never fucking failed that Morticia broke down crying in front of him every single time. But, she couldn't help it.

"Y-you're the one who's making this bad, Morti." He let out another sigh, and he sounded so, so tired. "If you'd just listen to me."

"Why can't you just leave me alone." She was crying, her vision blurry as she sobbed underneath him, as she let out those horrible emotions she was trying so hard to bite back down. "Y-you don't have to do this."

"You know that's not an option, Morti." She felt it when he picked himself up, when he began fitting himself between her legs. Morticia could do little but focus on his movements, on what she knew would happen to her, and what he would do.

"Wh-why?" The ceiling above her was clouded over by her tears, and she could feel the chill even more prominently when it hit her wet cheeks. She cried as Rick picked her up by her legs, shifting himself until she felt him press against her crotch through his clothes. There was no point in fighting him. Every time she struggled, the leather bindings on her wrists stung when it chafed, and only added to how pointless this all was. Even her babbling was pointless. There was no point in talking to him. "Rick--I..." Her words failed her when she choked, when she heard him pull down his zipper, and the sound sent that wave of fear through her until she shivered from it. There was no point in saying what she had to say, even when she felt him grind up between her legs, it sickened her. "Rick..."

There were plenty of questions Morticia wanted to ask him. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever be honest and just tell her the truth, because she wondered if the truth would hurt less than his passive aggressive bullshit that he spewed to her. But, deep down, Morticia knew the answers to her own questions. There was no point in asking her grandpa why he was doing this to her when she knew it was because she had seduced him by accident, he got the wrong message, and developed some weird feelings toward her because of it. She thought if this was a crisis he was going through, a passing cheap thrill he would get over once he was done with her--maybe--

Maybe she could even forget about it one day. Maybe if he fucked her and got bored with her, she could put it behind her. But, she knew that wasn't true. Morticia knew even if he tossed her away, she would always know deep down what he was really capable of.

She just wished he had stopped when he realized she wasn't worth this much trouble, and thrown her away like a piece of trash. Because hearing him talk about taking her off planet, ripping her away from her family, all the while he grew angry with her for running away and even expressed relief that she was safe--she wasn't sure if there was any other possibility than being with him.

She couldn't run away. She couldn't open her mouth and tell Mom out of fear she would abandon her and tell her this was her fault, she couldn't tell Jessica, because that wasn't her problem to deal with. She couldn't even drug him and escape without him finding her and dragging her back here, stripping her naked and tying her down to a table where he was grinding against her and she could feel his erection press into her every second that he did this.

Morticia didn't know what to do.

When she argued, he only pushed back. When she cried and begged, he only called her stupid and insisted he was right about everything. When she fought him and ran away, he only dragged her back, no matter what.

She didn't know what to do.

And as he gripped her thighs to steady himself, he said nothing to her. Morticia could only lie there, grit her teeth, and try not to focus on the pain when he shoved himself into her, not bothering to prepare her. And maybe he wanted it to hurt. Maybe this was her punishment for thinking she could get away from him.

And it did. It did hurt. Morticia cried out underneath him at the initial pain, feeling like he'd just ripped her in half, even though he had done this so many times before, but he always took some precautions and pleasured her beforehand, or at least prepared her before doing this. Having him go inside like this--she choked on her cries when he pulled back out, so rough. So erratic and desperate, as though he wanted her to cry more.

He wasn't giving her the chance to catch her breath before going back in, and it wasn't any better. She felt like all the air was sucked out of her when he did so, when she tried so hard to focus on breathing, but he didn't give her that chance. She lay underneath him, suffocated by his weight when he moved on top of her as he went inside, when he pulled her knees up so far, she felt like she had curled in on herself, and it was only making it that much harder to breathe.

When he pulled back out, and it still hurt, Morticia couldn't take it anymore. Her voice was coated with pain and she winced, but she cried out, "R-Rick! That hurts, it hurts!"

"I know."

And she could only choke on her sobs as she slammed her eyes shut, feeling the tears well up at his words. He knew, he knew he was hurting her, and he was doing it on purpose. There was no remorse in his voice, no sign of guilt or hesitation. He was fucking her to hurt her, and he knew it.

Morticia could only grit her teeth and bear it as she writhed under him, when he pulled in and out of her so roughly, purposefully, and she was scared he was going to rip her insides open. There had to be blood. There was no way he hadn't ripped her and made her bleed from being so rough. She tried to close her eyes and imagine something else, but it was impossible.

He began to grunt above her, and it sickened her that he was getting off to this. That hurting her like this, ripping her insides and tearing her apart was getting him off. Her tears only continued to fall, but there wasn't a goddamn thing she could do about it. No amount of struggling was going to fix it, and it only caused her more pain. If she struggled, she chafed the binds on her wrists and it stung.

All she could do was lie under him, smothered, and wait until he finished. He couldn't do this for long. If he wasn't going to bother with pleasuring her, then he wouldn't have to focus on her, and finish. Morticia sucked in air, trying to focus on breathing and not him. She opened her eyes then, focused on the ceiling above her, the way the shadows from the iridescent green liquid coated the walls and cast an eerie glow around her.

This was never going to stop. She had to accept that. Even lying here like she was, being suffocated underneath him while he grunted above her, pushing into her harder and getting faster each time he did so, Morticia knew it was all hopeless from the start. Maybe she even knew that before trying to drug him and escaping. Even if she dared have some small hope he wouldn't come after her, it damn sure didn't make a difference now. After all the lengths she went through just to gain some sense of--

Some sense of freedom. She didn't know what she wanted anymore. Did she even want to tell Mom and have her be on her side? Morticia wanted to when this first started happening. She wanted to break down crying to her mother, to have her hold onto her, cradle her like when she was a little girl, and tell her everything was going to be okay. Mom would protect her. And it was the fear that held her back, the fear of Mom blaming her.

But.

Even if she didn't, even if Mom found out and was on her side, even if she believed her and told Rick to never darken their doorway again--would that really be what she wanted? She would have easily said yes before, because fuck him, she didn't care what happened, but.

As she lay there, being fucked mercilessly into the table by him, as he gripped her legs for support until he dugs his nails into her, hard enough to pierce her skin, Morticia had to wonder if this was for the best. If he took her off planet and nobody ever saw her again, would that really be better than having people know that...that she'd had this happened to her?

Morticia wasn't sure which was worse. What was she supposed to think? She felt so stupid lying there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore Rick's moans below her as her tears welled up and fell.

Nobody would have to know how disgusting she was. Nobody would have to find out she'd been fucked by her grandpa. Nobody, not even Mom, would have to know the truth. Morticia didn't have to face that conversation if Rick did as he said and took her away.

But, that wasn't right. Morticia was supposed to cry for help, to run screaming for someone to save her, to tell Mom what a creepy bastard her father was and what all he'd done to her. But, she was humiliated at the same time picturing that conversation. What in the hell did she ever think she would tell Mom? How could she ever broach that topic, even in secret, without feeling humiliated it had even happened in the first place?

Rick made her ashamed. Even too ashamed to feel she deserved to hate him anymore. If she couldn't get away with drugging him and escaping, then maybe Morticia really was stupid like he always told her she was. Maybe she didn't know anything.

Maybe she should start listening to him.

Something terrible began to happen. As Rick thrust into her over and over, the pain she felt before vanished, and Morticia felt a creeping, familiar feeling begin to swell beneath her as he fucked her. She wanted to wriggle away from him to make him stop, but there was no denying the longer he moved in and out of her, the more she was starting to like it. Or maybe like was too strong of a word.

She lay there, limp beneath him and tried to ride out the pain of him doing what he was doing, because the pain would eventually stop, she knew that. But, she didn't expect it to turn into this. If this had to hurt like this, she wanted him to get it over with, but he was dragging it out, maybe even on purpose. Morticia couldn't help it when he started feeling good inside of her, and she choked on a moan.

Of course he heard it, he spoke down at her as he moved back and forth, his voice breathy and still slurring, but unmistakable as he taunted her, "O-oh, s-so you're into this, huh, M-Morti? N-never took you f-for a masochist, b-but, hell, I-I always knew you were a little p-pervert deep down."

Her face flushed at his words and she was humiliated that he was doing this to her. If only he would get it over with and spare her this torture, but she knew he wouldn't. Morticia couldn't respond to him, and only avoided his gaze as he continued fucking her.

"Y-you're the one m-moaning for me over here, but you wanna f-fucking bitch at me that I'm a pervert? A-and like fuck you don't want it, look at you. I can feel you, Morti." He only continued mocking her as he increased his pace, and it hurt at first, but Morticia was too far gone with it. The pain felt good too, and she hated that it did. She couldn't help it. She wanted to move with him, to match his rhythm, but he would only mock her for that too.

Morticia didn't know what to do. It was starting to ache how badly he was making her want this, how badly he had hurt her before, and how awful that pain was starting to feel good in the worst way possible. Morticia had never felt anything like it and it was scaring her. But, she couldn't deny that it felt good. It felt so good, and it was bad. Why did it feel good even when he hurt her like this? It didn't make any goddamn sense.

Maybe he was right. She was a pervert. Morticia had never hurt herself when she masturbated, so she'd never known that something like this could feel good. Anytime she would do this to herself, she was always extra careful, always liberal with her lube, and if she had a dildo handy, was too afraid to put it inside her if she thought it was too big. But, she didn't know.

And he was taking complete advantage of her like this as he moved, as he went too fast and it hurt--but only for a moment, and Morticia had to bite the blood from her lip to keep from moaning at this feeling he was creating on purpose, just to humiliate her. Everything that he was doing to her now hurt, and she wanted to cry at it, but she didn't even know if she had the right to anymore.

Morticia choked on a moan again as he pushed himself way too hard into her, and she couldn't look at his face, didn't want to see what was no doubt a smirk on his face when he spoke to her, "Yeah, I-I know. You like that, Morti? I-I know you do, y-you can't lie to me. I see it on your f-fucking face. Y-you close yet?" He had yet to touch her or show any signs of touching her, but she knew he was going to ride this out until she came with him.

The shame built up on her face and she could feel her orgasm building. It was that familiar feeling of hitting her peak, and she was almost there, but he stopped suddenly, and she almost whimpered underneath him. She almost asked him why would he stop, why would he deny her that, but when she looked at his face, saw the smile that made her skin crawl.

He leaned in close to her face when he spoke. "Y-you wanna come, Morti? I-I'll let you come, even though you don't f-fucking deserve it after what you did." As he spoke, he enunciated his sentence by pulling back out of her for a moment, only to go back in and hit the spot that was making her toes curl and she almost moaned again when he did so. "But." And then he gripped onto her thighs, almost so hard that she felt like his nails had jabbed through her flesh. "Y-you gotta do something for me." Morticia felt her stomach flip as he continued, the nausea rearing its ugly head. "Y-you've spent this whole t-time bitching and moaning about this, but we both know you're just denying it. I-it's okay if you're too shy to admit it, but you've been downright lying to me, Morti."

She froze when he spoke his next sentence, feeling a chill run down her spine and her chest seize up.

"I'll let you come if you admit you like it."

She immediately went to shake her head no, because no way would she admit that to him, but he shifted from his position, purposefully making it hurt until she yelped out in pain.

"And if you keep lying, then we'll just have to stay here until you tell the truth."

The heat collected in her face and she had to look away from him, away from that smirk on his face, as he sat inside of her and refused to move, refused to give her release. She was going to say no, she wanted to sit there in silence until he finished, but he wasn't even going to let her do that. He couldn't just let this hurt and get it over with. He could just leave her alone.

And then, he released her thigh, taking his hand to gently pinch the side of her face as he spoke. "Come on, Morti, don't be embarrassed. I-It's just us here. Now, tell your grandpa the truth, okay? I'm the only one listening."

That was the problem. Morticia felt the tears that had stagnated in her eyes begin to fall then, silently down her face as she looked off to the side of the wall, at the random container full of green oozing liquid that glowed. It was pointless of her to think of things like, why would he make her say something so horrible, why would he force her to say something she obviously didn't want to say--but no matter what she thought of in an effort to save herself from this insanity, she had to be honest with herself first.

And it was easier to admit that Rick was always going to win. No matter what she did, how hard she fought, how loud she screamed, or what she said, he wasn't going to let her go. It was easier to tell herself this now than to lie and think holding onto hope that she would be saved would do her any goddamn good. There was no hope. Not anymore.

She sniffled, the tears still falling, and he took the thumb he was pinching her cheek with to wipe at her face. "C-come on, Morti, you can do it. Just say you like it. Tell grandpa you like it."

And he was always going to push her to get what he wanted. There was no reasoning with him when he was always going to justify this and Morticia sighed to herself. If she started listening to him now it would save her a hell of a lot of heartache down the road. If she followed his rules and stopped thinking so hard about this, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

All she had to do was not think about it, even though it was so hard. Even though her face was full of shame and humiliation when she opened her mouth to speak, when her voice cracked as she spoke. "I-I-I li...like it." But, she got it out. It was over and done with.

"See, Morti? Aren't things much easier when you're honest?"

But, even as he started thrusting into her, once again making that feeling below her rise and she felt like she was going to explode, she had to look away from him. If he made her look, then she would have no choice, but he must not have noticed. He reached back over to grab her thigh and moved into her in such a way that she felt it hurt, but it only intensified how she was feeling now. Morticia was so close, and she moved with him, moved to hit that spot over and over, and she felt it climbing. It was almost there, and she was rising further and further, until she felt it. It peaked then and she cried out when she came all around him.

It was both the worst and best orgasm she ever had. Morticia rode it out for as long as she could, feeling wet and hot all over when that feeling of blacking out took hold of her, and she felt as though she had passed out on the table from the intensity. But, Rick was still going, and it brought her back from reality long enough to realize he had gripped hold of her thighs way too hard, so hard that she cried out from the pain when he came into her, and she felt it. She felt him come, felt it when he pulled out and his cum was dripping out of her.

It made her want to throw up, but she lie there, absolutely spent and felt as though her entire body was sore. Everything felt horrible. Now that she was coming down, she could feel the damage he'd done below her, and felt the sting between her legs and the ache it caused. Her arms were almost numb above her, and when he reached up to undo the strap, they flopped uselessly beside her for a moment as she gathered the feeling back in her limbs.

Her wrists were burned red from being chafed, and it stung just to look at, but she held her hands close to her, trying not to focus on everything that was hurting. This was nothing, she had to keep telling herself that.

Rick stood off her and she heard his heavy breathing as he composed himself, and Morticia was able to lean herself up off the table, but felt the headache that came with that almost instantly. He had bashed her head multiple times into the ground, it was no wonder she had a splitting headache. Her body was aching all over, and she could already see bruises forming on her thighs from where his hands had been.

She sat on the table, worn out, beaten up, and fucking spent. Morticia didn't even have the energy left to cry anymore, not as she watched Rick fumble with his pants and fix himself back up. His back was to her, and she shivered on top of the table, now feeling the chill in the air get to her.

She felt bad. Everything hurt, everything ached, and everything stung. When she looked down at her burned wrists and her bruised thighs and the mess he'd made between her legs, she choked on a sob.

It suddenly hit her in that moment that he had the power to do this to her whenever he wanted. If he wanted to hurt her this bad, beat her up and tie her up every time until her wrists were burning, he could do that. He could fuck her until it hurt, and maybe she would come because it started to feel good, but she didn't want it. She didn't want anything like that to ever happen again.

Morticia started crying again, her shoulders rising and falling with each heave she took as she sobbed. She didn't want him to be violent with her like this anymore. She was sorry. She was so sorry.

Morticia reached out to grab his sleeve, and pulled him back, even though her grip was weak, her arms were sore, but she didn't let go. "R-Rick..." Her voice was hoarse as though she'd been screaming for hours, but she couldn't help but cry into him when she pulled him by his sleeve until he came back to her. "Rick, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sobbed, hiccupping and wrapped her arms around him when he came close, until she buried her head into his front. "P-please, don't do that ever again." She never, ever wanted to have an orgasm like that ever again. Not like that. Not with him. Not with anyone.

She sobbed, not caring if it was him, not caring that she was holding him so tight as though he would float away from her, but she had no other choice. Morticia needed comfort, and as fucked up as it was, would take any kind of comfort she could afford. Even if it was from him. Even if he chose to comfort her, hug her back, Morticia would take it.

And she felt it when his arms wrapped around her in return, when he pulled her close, and she felt so warm in his hold, when she held him even tighter and sobbed into him even harder. When he moved his hand up to gently stroke her hair, and he shushed her quietly, and it only made her cry more.

Morticia never meant for this to happen. She never meant to seduce him, or for things to end up this way.

She wanted to say she was sorry.

Morticia wished she could go back in time and stop herself from ever thinking things would end up differently than this. Because, there was no point. Mom didn't need to know this about her dad. Nobody needed that on their minds. If his plan was to whisk her away to a faraway planet where everyone back at home would slowly forget her, then Morticia found herself thinking that it would be better than having to face the truth.

Because everything hurt.

Being with him hurt. Being away from him wasn't an option, and she had no choice but to accept this one way or the other. She was going to have to start listening to him.

And, as she sat there, sobbing into his front, clutching the back of his coat so hard as though he would disappear, she wanted to tell him too. She was sorry she ever seduced him. She was sorry she never listened to him when he always knew what was best.

The tears stopped, but Morticia didn't let go of him. She didn't want to. He continued to pat her back and rock her back and forth on the table as he stood there letting her hug him, and she felt emotionally spent from crying so much, but everything hurt so much. Morticia never remembered a time when her body felt this broken, when her skin stung to the touch, when the spot between her legs ached so bad, she didn't think she could stand up anymore.

She didn't want to move. Didn't want to think about it.

And if she was going to have to be honest with Rick from now on--she clutched his coat tighter in her hands as she moved her head away from his front and instead, placed her chin on his shoulder--then she may as well start being honest right now.

"Rick, I--" Her chest ached. It felt like everything she'd fought so hard for was crumbling down around her, but what did that matter anymore? There was no freedom from him, or denying what he did to her. She couldn't lie to herself anymore that things were going to end up differently when they weren't. Morticia closed her eyes, feeling her face burn.

She just didn't want him to hurt her anymore.

And it would hurt so much less if she said this now.

With her body spent, and her emotions exhausted, Morticia gripped his coat a final time before whispering, "Rick, I-I love you," into his ear. Her face burned in humiliation, but that didn't matter now.

She felt him start below her, and he pulled her away from him for a moment, his expression shocked, but he gripped onto her arms and she felt him shake. It wasn't harsh like before, but she could feel him trembling. When he moved into her then and kissed her, and she sat there, still holding onto his sleeve, allowing him to kiss her, allowing him to move into her as he did so, and when he moved back, his voice was breathy. "S-say it again."

There was much less hesitation this time, but no less shame. "I-I love you, Rick."

He kissed her again, and she could feel the desperation in the way that he did so, she felt it when he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her so close to him, she felt smothered again. But, he broke away, and she saw his lidded eyes, the small blush on his face, and the slight smile as he replied to her. "Grandpa loves you too."

 

Chapter Text

Ugh.

That was a good way of putting it once he started to come to. Ugh. His vision was blurry once he opened his eyes to meet the floor below him, the cold hard metallic tiles that he recognized immediately to be that of the bunker. The side of his face was numb when he realized it was planted firmly on the cold ground below him and how long he’d been out, he couldn’t tell. When he finally gathered his senses enough to lift himself from the floor and sit up, his head was spinning, and he wondered how drunk he’d gotten to end up in the bunker of all places?

He was used to passing out drunk in the garage, or—more appealing—his bedroom, but he never usually went down into the bunker unless he had a good reason to. Sitting up on his bottom, Rick rested a hand against his head as he felt a headache pounding against his skull. What in the fuck happened? He felt so unusually groggy and sick to his stomach and generally awful. He must’ve really gotten hammered last night.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to get plastered like this, but he had no recollection of what in fuck happened. He had to think. Think, what had he been doing? He remembered sitting at his desk making those nanobots. He remembered flying off to space earlier to buy special precision tools just for that. He remembered sitting at his desk screwing in things and concentrating before Morti came in and—

Fuck. That’s right. He straightened himself up a little, feeling nauseated as he did so. Morti came in and acted like she was all interested in his work before she asked him for a drink. No. She begged him for a drink. Which was unusual for her to beg him for alcohol as Morti wasn’t usually the type of person to show all that much interest in drinking, but…

Holy shit, did he remember that look on her face when she gripped his arm and pleaded with him, when he gave in so easily to her, because it was Morti, how could he ever say no to her when she was looking at him like that—and touching him like that? He may have bent over a little too easily for her, but it didn’t matter now. He’d even gotten a little excited about it.

Having a drink with Morti. He would have lied if he hadn’t said that wasn’t a fantasy of his to sit down with her one night and get hammered together. He often wondered if the booze would loosen her up where she wasn’t so shy around him and he could get more adventurous with what he did. Maybe even have sloppy make out sessions or something like that. Hell, it was such a dumb thought, a fantasy more like that of a teenager’s, but Rick couldn’t help some of the things he thought of when he was around her. She made him irrational.

But.

The more he sat there, that weird fog hanging over his head, the more he started recognizing just what was happening. He’d been drugged before, so this feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him. But, there was no way Morti had drugged him...right? She wasn’t that intuitive. Where would she even get the drugs from?

Unless she’d rummaged around in the garage and went through his things for something to poison him with. It was asinine to think Morti had tried to poison him, but Rick couldn’t deny the feeling of how heavy his body was, how groggy and foggy his head felt and how sick to his stomach he was. And she’d been the only one with him last night. When he left the room, she could have easily put something in his drink and like the unsuspecting moron he was, he drank it all down without a second thought, because he would never think Morti capable of something like that.

But here he was, hardly able to stand to his feet because of this, and growing angrier by the second. Just what in the fuck did she think she was doing, drugging him like this? She could have killed him—and a thought hit him. What if that was the point? Would Morti really try and poison him on purpose? No, no, he knew she wasn’t capable of that. But, he didn’t think she was capable of this either. If Morti knew she’d killed him, it would eat her alive and she’d be stricken with guilt. No, Morti hadn’t done this to him to kill him. She was a... she wasn’t that kind of person.

Gripping the side of the wall for support, Rick eased himself off the floor and stumbled, almost falling back down. God dammit, this was going to be an ordeal getting off his ass and making it up through the house. Just what the hell was Morti thinking? He bet she was in her room, so proud of herself for spiking his drink, or doing whatever in the hell teenagers did on weekends.

Fuck this, there was no way he was going to be able to crawl up the bunker, out the garage, and into the house just to confront her and yell at her about this. Reaching into his coat pocket, he grabbed for his portal gun. Morti would be sorry she ever touched his stuff, let alone did something so stupid as to mix drugs into his drink like—

His hands only grabbed lint in his pocket. The portal gun wasn’t there.

Rick almost stumbled to the ground again, pulling open his coat to search through all his pockets. He knew he had it in there, where the fuck was it? Surely, he didn’t drop it somewhere, right? But, no amount of searching yielded any results. The portal gun was gone.

Fuck, what the fuck was this? Had he lost it somewhere? Did he leave it in the garage before coming down here last night? Or maybe—

He stopped himself, leaning against the wall as a wave of dizziness overtook his senses.

She took it. Morti took it. He remembered now. He remembered lying down on the ground, fucked up out of his mind as she rummaged through his clothes and took it before jumping through a portal. Morti stole the portal gun from him.

Rick heaved in a gulp of air, feeling the panic replace his anger. What the fuck, why in the fuck would she do that? She didn’t know how to work that goddamn thing! He never taught her about how to enter the coordinates properly on that. For all he knew, Morti had typed in some random coordinates, jumped through, and gotten sliced up in the blender universe. She could have jumped into the vacuum of space and suffocated by now.

Rick felt his breathing turn shallow. Morti could be dead. His Morti could be gone, and his chest was stricken with panic when he stumbled his way over to the ladder, gripping and climbing his way up. Fuck, he needed to sober up fast. He needed to find her. He needed to know if she was still alive or not. There was no telling where she ended up, and he could have lost her for all he knew.

Rick didn’t want to think about that.

With great difficulty, he swung himself up over the entrance to the bunker and planted himself back on the floor of the garage, losing his footing for a second and almost stumbled to the ground. Goddammit, he was still shaky on his feet, and he felt like a goddamn idiot that he couldn't even walk right. In one motion, he reached over to the safe that sat on the floor under his desk, the one that housed most of his liquor. He pulled a bottle from it, one that wasn’t alcohol, but was an alien concoction he only kept for emergencies. With one gulp, he felt himself sober up, the nausea gone, but the fog still in his mind. That’s all he needed. There wasn’t much he could do other than wait out the hangover, but for now, he could stand to his feet without falling over, and the first thing he grabbed for on his desk was a tracking device.

He typed in the numbers from his own portal gun, waiting with his breath held as the tracker beeped a few times before showing him a blinking red dot. The coordinates read that the portal gun was located in another universe, but the red dot itself brought him an immense amount of relief he never thought possible.

If the portal gun was still showing up on the tracker, that meant Morti was okay. For now, anyway. Just because his portal gun was showing up didn’t mean Morti hadn’t dropped it or lost it somewhere and she herself was in danger while the gun lay unattended on the ground somewhere.

Still.

Rick pocketed the tracker before he reached under the desk to push a button. A small beeping sound resounded off the wall before a secret slot opened behind his tool counter. A combination lock sat behind it, to which he quickly typed in a series of codes before the door swung open and he pulled out a pretty ratty looking portal gun.

He’d stolen this thing a long time ago from another Rick who didn’t know what in the hell he was doing with it, as his math was all kinds of off and he was opening portals that disintegrated people the moment they walked into them. He tinkered with it in his spare time, not finding use for a second portal gun, since he always kept his attached to his skin and never let it out of his sight. There was no use for a backup, but now.

He popped open the compartment before diving for his precision tools. Now he was going to have to fix this damn thing in order to go after Morti. If he fucked up, he was going to be the one jumping through a death trap. But, he wouldn't fuck up. He knew what he was doing.

As he sat down at his desk, Rick removed several pieces of the inside compartment of the old portal gun and set to work. He was going to be here for a while and he couldn’t afford to waste a single second. Every minute he spent here was a minute Morti could be in trouble out there.


 

“Dad?”

Rick was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice Beth enter the garage until she placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, not expecting it, and almost dropped his screwdriver as he turned to see her jerk her hand back to herself, as though she had touched fire, and he couldn’t help but notice her worried expression. “What, Beth, w-what?” He didn’t have time for this, he was in a hurry.

But, she looked on the verge of tears before she spoke. “Have you seen Morticia? I can’t find her anywhere. W-we, I mean, me and Jerry saw her last night. She said she was going to ask you for help with her homework, but I don’t think she ever went to bed last night.”

He frowned. That fucking manipulative little bitch. So, she planned this whole thing out? Did she plan to bail on her parents from the start too? What in the fuck? The more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off, and he clenched his hands around the screwdriver, fuming. How dare Morti do this to him. How dare she go through his things, steal his stuff, and then make off with his portal gun after lying and manipulating her way around like that? What the fuck was she thinking? Was she even thinking?

“Dad?” Beth was giving him an expectant look, and he had to meet her gaze before he gave away the fact he was angry, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend he wasn’t. “Do you know where she is?”

And he didn’t know if he fucking cared right now. If Morti was going to pull this shit, then he wasn’t going to waste the time covering for her. If she was going to bail on her parents, she obviously didn’t care about them. She didn’t care about him.

Turning back to the portal gun, he twisted in a screw before replying, “Yeah, she’s gone, Beth.”

Beth started for a moment, staring at him like she didn’t understand him and crossed her arms, the look on her face only intensifying. “What do you mean gone?”

“She ran away.” He replied without hesitation, without looking back up at his daughter, as he continued working on the portal gun. And even as Beth took a step back from him, sounded as though she were about to start crying, he continued, not looking up at her once. “She bailed on you, sweetie.”

“No.” Beth sounded taken aback, but he barely paid attention to her as he continued working, not letting up for a second. “That’s not right. Why would she run away? It makes no sense.”

“Trust me, Beth.” He stood from his seat, closing the little compartment on the portal gun and watched as the bulb on top flared to life. This was as good as it was going to get. It was a slop job at most, since he was in such a hurry, he couldn’t perfect the details like he wanted, but it would get him to where he wanted at least. That was enough.

He finally looked up to see Beth still standing there, teary eyed before him and silent. He knew his words only hurt her, but he didn’t care right now. He had to go find her and bring her back if it was the last thing he did. Morti could still be in danger right now and he was just wasting time.

He at least tried to be somewhat reassuring to her, even though Morti didn’t deserve this type of mercy from him. “Look, wherever she is, I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t worry.” Even though he didn’t believe that himself. “I’m going to go look for her, okay?”

And without waiting for Beth’s response, he shot open a portal before hopping through.

The sounds around him were disorienting. What in the fuck happened? Rick was used to portals popping him out in weird random places, especially if he didn’t plan his coordinates properly, but this was just—

He walked out into what appeared to be a dance floor, and the pounding music made his bones feel like they were rattling inside of him, and he already felt like he had a headache from that resounding bass. The flashing lights made him blink in confusion for a second, and it took him a few seconds to realize he was in a club of some sorts. At least an alien dance club, that much was for sure.

As the portal closed behind him, he looked down at the portal gun to see the light fade on top, and swore under his breath. He knew it was a shitty job, but for it to only have enough juice to get him through one dimension was less of an impact than even he predicted.

But, all he had to do was find Morti (if she was still alive that is), take back his original portal gun, and he could get the fuck out of this place. Rick whirled around, pushing past the dumb fucking aliens who were slamming into him, as if on purpose, and he pushed back as he waded through the crowd. How in the fuck was he supposed to find her in a place like this?

Some of the aliens started swearing at him in their language as he pushed his way through, but he didn’t give a shit as he started his search, trying to see desperately through the flashing strobe lights any signs of his Morti. A particularly rowdy alien shoved into him and he shoved back, but someone called out behind him before a fight could break out.

“H-hey pal, what’s y-y-your problem?”

A Rick appeared behind him, one he could only assume was this universe’s Rick, and puffed out his chest to him, but he was in no mood for his bullshit, and only shoved him too. He wondered if his stance was just for show as he stumbled to the ground, not expecting to be shoved, but Rick didn’t care. If a Rick was here, then that might mean…

He was desperate, and angry, the longer he stayed here, not knowing if his Morti was alive or not, he grew angrier, and he shouted at the Rick below him at the top of his lungs, “WHERE IS SHE?” Because what if this fucker had her? What if Morti landed in this universe and this fuckface took her for himself? He looked like a shit stain. Just by looking at him, Rick could tell he was into shit like that. Fuck, what if he’d done something to her? He could feel his chest quaking at the thought, but didn’t dare break his stance.

“Th-the fuck are you talking about, y-y-you dumbass?!” The other Rick scrambled to his feet, trying to recover from being shoved, and only yelled back in his face. He recovered quickly, and shoved back Rick who almost stumbled himself, but he didn’t falter.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you cock sucker! I tracked her coordinates here, I know you have her, now where is—” He stopped.

When he spoke, he had whipped around to search back through the crowds of aliens, and he was prepared to fight his way through if he had to. He was prepared to pummel this other Rick in order to get information out of him if he had to do that.

But.

That moment he turned around, his eyes landed on a couple standing off to the side, as though they were purposefully trying to avoid the crowd. They would have been insignificant to him any other time, and he didn’t know why his gaze landed there in the first place. But. He saw her. Even though she was dressed in clothes she didn’t normally wear, and she had her hair pulled back, she was staring right at him.

He knew. Nobody had to convince him otherwise this was his Morti. He could tell by her face alone, the way she looked at him, her eyes wide, her mouth held agape, like she couldn’t believe she was seeing him.

He knew.

And he was overcome with so many feelings in that moment. He had woken up on the floor thinking she was dead, thinking Morti might have jumped through a portal and been killed immediately. He’d had a knot twisted into his stomach all fucking day at the thought of her being off on her own like this, in possible danger. Maybe lethal danger, maybe she had fallen victim to another Rick. He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know. His mind had been a blur all fucking day with the possibilities of what could have happened to her.

And to see her like this before him, standing next to a...a Morty? Made his blood boil. How dare she do this to him? How dare she steal his things and do this to him and make him think she was dead? How dare Morti cause him so much grief like that, just to be fucking okay like this?

He clenched his fists.

When he got his hands on her, he was going to fucking show her. He would show her how stupid she’d been to abandon him like this. He wasn’t ever going to let her out of that goddamn bunker again, and fuck it if she, or Beth, or Jerry, or anybody had anything to say to him about it, he didn’t fucking give a damn.

Rick lunged for her, pushing through the crowds, and he could hear it when Morti screamed and held her hands up to her face in horror. Fuck it, he would shoot every alien in this goddamn place if he had to if it meant getting to her any faster. Just when that thought had pushed itself into his head and he had half a mind to reach into his coat pocket for the disintegration gun he brought with him, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso before he was shoved into the ground and someone crawled on top of him.

The other Rick had tackled him, and the moment he felt himself hit the floor, Rick whirled around in his grip to punch his fucking face, almost knocking his sunglasses off. “G-get the fuck off me, you piece of shit!”

“Like hell!” The other Rick punched back at him, managing to sock him in the jaw, and he felt when the blood gushed from his busted lip.

He reared back to punch him again, but Rick jabbed him in the stomach, causing the other Rick to double over instead, clutching at his middle before he not-so-gently kicked him in the balls. The other Rick doubled over, now coughing and cradling his crotch while moaning in pain as Rick crawled out from under him, hands still clenched into fists. “That’s right, you motherfucker! Bet i-it’s hard to see with those s-stupid fucking sunglasses on, huh? Why don’t you take the goddamn things off when y-y-you’re in a fucking building, huh?!”

The other Rick couldn’t answer as he was still cradling himself as he sat hunched over on the floor, moaning in pain, but Rick ignored him, turning instead to the spot where he’d seen Morti before, but wasn’t surprised to see her no longer standing there. The Morty was gone as well. A quick scan of the room gave him the view of a door off to the side, one with a large sign on it that read ‘Do Not Enter’ and was slightly ajar. Wasting not one goddamn more second, Rick charged after the door, pushing past aliens in his haste and he didn’t give a single shit who pushed him back.

He tore through the door where a staircase met him and flew up them, gripping the railing as he tripped in his rush. A sort of strange apartment met him once he was at the top, and Rick reached into his coat, pulling out the disintegration gun as he did so. They had to be up here somewhere, and he was going to fucking find them.

As he made his way down the hallway that housed all the doors, he spotted one that was open that led to a bedroom. Shoving his elbow against it, he swung the door open and the scared expression of the Morty met him as he pointed the gun straight at his face. He held his hands up like this wasn’t his first time having a gun pointed at him.

Rick didn’t hesitate. “Where is she.” He demanded. He didn’t ask.

Morty slowly shook his head, but Rick cut him off before he could even open his mouth to spout whatever bullshit he was about to spew.

“Don’t even fucking lie to me, y-you little shit stain. I-I have a tracker. I can track her coordinates wherever I want.” He moved closer, not daring to point his gun anywhere else.

Morty didn’t move, his gaze focused strictly on the barrel of the gun pointed at him, and he looked terrified. Rick wasn’t above shooting a Morty if he had to. He had absolutely no qualms about killing this little fuck, and he might even do it for fun if he felt like it. If he was pissed off enough.

Once he was close enough, he grabbed a fistful of Morty’s long blonde hair and yanked it up, making him cry out in pain before sticking the gun right up to his jaw. “Y-you’ve got a portal gun, don’t you? Tell me where it is.”

Morty didn’t say anything.

“You think I-I-I won’t shoot you? Y-you think just because you’re a Morty, I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out? Please.” He yanked on his hair harder, hoping he pulled his roots out. And Morty hissed through his teeth in pain as he could do nothing but take it. Rick could see his eyes watering with tears from the pain and it gave him a sweet sense of satisfaction. “But, you probably don’t care, do you?”

Still, Morty said nothing, but stared at him in terror as Rick refused to let go of his hair, but he removed the gun from his jaw, holding it off to the side.

“Fine. I won’t shoot you. But, the second your Rick runs up here to rescue you after h-he’s gotten back on his feet, I’m going to shoot him instead.” As he finished his sentence, Rick slowly extended his hand toward the bedroom door, his finger on the trigger of the gun, and he gave Morty a hard stare who only looked at him with silent horror. “Tell me. Or h-he’s going to die.”

Morty opened his mouth in hesitation, but closed it again, as if he wasn’t going to say anything. He looked completely frozen with fear, and Rick watched as tears fell down his face as he only yanked is hair harder with each passing second.

The door below them slammed against the wall, and there was no denying the sound of the other Rick shambling up the stairs. He was coming, and Rick only stared at Morty again before turning to the entranceway and prepared to fire the gun.

No! No, don’t kill him, PLEASE!” Morty screamed at him, reaching up with both hands to grip at his coat sleeve and he pulled. “I-it’s in his bedroom at the end of the hallway in his dresser! Don’t kill him, please don’t kill him!”

“Ugh.” Rick released his hair, purposefully shoving him as hard as he could until Morty stumbled to the floor and fell to a crumbled mess on himself. “S-stop begging so much, you’re fucking p-pathetic.” He didn’t even wait for a response before he moved back out into the hallway, and was met with the other Rick. Not wasting a second, he pulled the gun back up and pulled the trigger.

The blast hit a potted plant behind him and disintegrated the entire thing, but it made him freeze. The other Rick stood shocked, but he didn’t move.

Rick held the gun up before moving down the hallway. “One move and that’ll be your head, asshole.” He made his way into the bedroom at the end of the hall and wasted no time in digging through the dresser. Underneath a pile of flamboyant underwear, he found the portal gun and pulled out his tracker.

The coordinates were familiar to him. The blinking red dot signified Morti was at the Citadel, but...why the fuck would she go there? Ugh, he didn’t have time to worry about this. Typing the coordinates into the portal gun, he put away his tracker, gripped his disintegration gun, and opened a portal into that dick’s bedroom before jumping through.

He should’ve shot them. Both of them. But, he could always come back later and do it. Right now, he had to focus on finding Morti, and it was going to be a hell of a time if she was in the Citadel. He fucking hated that place, despite the times he talked about wanting to take her there on occasion and brag about her to the other Ricks. That was just a passing fantasy of his, but to be here on bad terms was...well, not good.

He stepped out into the cemented streets, and was immediately aware of the stares he received when a random nervous Morty eyed him—or more specifically—eyed the portal gun. Rick pocketed that right away before picking out his tracker to get a more accurate reading of where Morti was. If she hadn’t gotten mugged by these freaks yet, she was going to have a hell of a time keeping hold of that portal gun. That shit was like candy to these people. He wouldn’t be surprised if she got robbed the second she landed here.

As he was trying to figure out where the blinking red dot was coming from, the nervous Morty sidled up to him, and spoke in a shaky voice. “U-u-um, excuse me?”

“What.” He didn’t have time for this shit.

“Y-you have a p-p-portal gun?”

Ugh. Instead of responding, he turned his back on the Morty and continued concentrating on his tracker.

“Please, I wanna g-g-go home.” It was when the Morty grabbed his sleeve from behind did Rick whirl back around to him, pulling the disintegration gun on him with his finger right on the trigger. The Morty backed away in fear, his eyes wide and his hands held up so that Rick wouldn’t shoot.

“I’ll do you one better.”

Maybe he should kill one of them, just to relieve some of this stress. What the fuck did he care if he shot a random Morty? He was miserable anyway. He didn’t want to live on the Citadel with a bunch of other people like him and be forced into this life like this. The fuck did he care?

Nobody would care if he shot him either. Even as he stood there with his gun held out, the Morty looking as though he were about to break down into hysterics, he could see the others in the background walking by as though nothing were happening. Maybe they didn’t care either. Nobody was stopping him.

Rick rolled his eyes when his tracker beeped. He didn’t have time for this bullshit, he had something to do. Maybe one day he’d come back here and kill a bunch of them if he got pissed off enough, but right now, he just didn’t have time. And if his tracker was accurate, which it was, then Morti should have been no further than a couple of streets away from him.

Not bothering to look back at the Morty he just pulled a gun on, Rick took off running in the direction the tracker was leading him, following the red dot. He only hoped none of these sickos had gotten their hands on her and stolen the portal gun. Or worse. Just decided to take her. She was a rare commodity in this place after all, and he knew some Ricks would love to get their filthy hands on a Morticia.

It made his blood boil thinking about it. Thinking about another Rick putting his hands on his Morti. Ugh, it sent a whole wave of unpleasant shivers up his spine. He couldn’t think about something like that as he knew he would kill the bastard instantly if that ever happened. But, he probably wouldn’t use the disintegration gun. Probably something more along the lines of blunt trauma.

The red dot on his tracker beeped again and he knew he was close. She had to be around here some goddamn where. He was so close. Just where in the fuck was she? He could feel panic well up in his chest again at the idea of finding the portal gun lying on the ground, but not his Morti.

He rushed past what looked like some kind of night club, and he almost passed the alleyway next to it, but something caught his eye. He heard yelling down the alley, the voice of a Rick, and he turned, stopping in his tracks.

Even with her back to him, he knew it was her. Morti was down the alley, pulling the portal gun away from what looked like some gross homeless Rick who was yelling at her, demanding she give him the portal gun, but Morti refused and tugged back.

It was in that moment, as Morti struggled with him, that the homeless Rick reached up and slapped her, screaming at her face, “Give me the goddamn portal gun right now, or I’ll kill you!”

Rick pulled the trigger and a beam shot from the disintegration gun. The Rick was reduced to a pile of ash in milliseconds and he could hear Morti’s cries of distress clear from where he was. Even from where she was, he could see her shaking, could hear her cries of horror as she sat staring at the pile of ash in front of her, and he called out to her.

“Morti.”

She turned.

That moment he saw her was like some kind of strange fantasy—as though it weren’t really happening. He felt his chest swell up then at the sight of her face, her beautiful face. Even if she looked worse for wear, or tired, her cheeks flushed, he never got over how fucking beautiful she was.

He thought he was never going to see her again. To have her here in front of him, to see her get slapped by another Rick, that made his temper flare, but he was more angry at what she had done. She had abandoned him. Abandoned her family. She manipulated her parents and lied to him. She stole his things and she could have died.

Morti could have died.

He would never forgive her for that. He would never forgive her for what she did to him, for running away from him, for causing him such pain and making him think she was dead. How could she do that to him? He almost let his emotions through right then and there, he almost broke down in front of her, showed weakness, but he clenched his fists and spat sarcasm out at her instead.

Morti was going to pay for what she did to him. Even if he had to keep her in the bunker for the rest of her life, he wasn’t going to let her pull a stunt like this ever again. She wouldn’t be able to leave him. If she was so quick to abandon Beth and Jerry, then he would just take the plunge and keep her there forever if he had to.

Because, it didn’t matter now. She was alive. He was so happy she was alive. He was so relieved she was here in front of him, alive, she was alive.

And god damn, did he love her. He loved her so much he would rather lock her up to keep her from running away from him anymore. He would rather keep her down in the bunker and watch her grow up than to ever see her leave him again. He would lie to Beth for the rest of his goddamn miserable life if it meant he got to keep Morti with him forever.

He didn’t care. He really didn’t fucking care.

Because if he got to keep her with him, keep her safe, keep her by his side, then that was all that mattered.


 

When he awoke that morning, Rick felt a strange sense of ease engulf him. He may have been in the bunker, curled up on that ratty mattress he kept on the floor for the times he slept in here to complete some work, but he felt so warm tucked under the covers today. He knew it was because of her.

His arms were wrapped around Morti, whose back was to him, but he had pulled her in close until she was pressed so far up against him, he could feel the dip in her back. She breathed slow and steady next to him, a sign she was still asleep, and he took a moment to bury his face into the back of her hair. She always smelled so good, no matter what. That fruity scent that surrounded her made him feel like he was drunk off it sometimes, and he inhaled her scent, getting lost in the feeling.

How could his Morti be so perfect? He often thought about why he thought of embarrassing things like that, because he could remember a time when he thought about abandoning her for a Morty, but. He couldn’t do that. He just never realized how lucky he was back then. But, he was so, so lucky to have her. He was so lucky to be here, curled up in bed with her, sharing her warmth like this, and drowning in that fruity scent on her.

God, he loved her. The more time he spent around her, the more he could feel it. And maybe it was because she had run away before, but he thought he had gotten a little clingy with her now. They had spent an awfully long time together, to the point when he left the bunker, he was always surprised how much time had passed. Rick didn’t bother keeping track of the time down here. There wasn’t really a point.

He carefully leaned himself up, fixing himself out from around Morti so as not to wake her. After all they did last night, he wouldn’t be surprised if she slept all day. He really kept her up, even despite her protests that she was sleepy, he had been desperate for her company, and wanted to keep going. Not that she argued with him much once he insisted he wanted to keep going. Morti was starting to bend over backwards for him more and more.

Even the demands he’d make of her now, which were like pulling teeth before, were simple. All he had to do was say, “Kiss me,” and Morti would open her mouth for him. All he had to do was tell her to sit in his lap and Morti climbed up onto him without question. If he asked her to touch him, she asked where.

Sometimes when he came back, she would even greet him once he climbed down the ladder and hug him as though she missed him. It was such a drastic change from how she normally was. There wasn’t much hesitation with her anymore, and no matter what he demanded of her, Morti usually listened to him.

Once he’d climbed out of the mattress, he pulled his clothes on before climbing the ladder and making his way out of the bunker. Being as quiet as he could, he lowered the trap door on the bottom of the garage before locking it. He had to always remember to lock it, no matter if Morti was asleep or awake. No matter what she did, he never failed to lock up behind him, keep his portal gun in the garage and away from her, because he didn’t trust her anymore. But, he knew she understood.

It looked like early morning when he climbed his way out, the sunlight peeking in through the garage windows making him squint and he walked through the entranceway toward the kitchen to grab some breakfast. Sometimes he could get away with grabbing an actual cooked meal for her, but he usually opted for a box of pop tarts or something he could just take with him to avoid suspicion. But, nobody really questioned him if he hoarded food to take into the garage with him anyway.

Beth usually insisted he stick around and eat at the table with everyone, but lately, she had stopped doing that. When he walked into the kitchen that morning, he was surprised to see her seated at the table, a bottle of wine next to her that looked almost empty.

She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been up all night crying, her hair was disheveled as though she hadn’t washed or brushed it in days, and she tapped at the edge of her wine glass with her fingernail as Rick walked in, swaying a little from side to side, but she perked up when she saw him. He noticed immediately the dark circles under her eyes.

“D-Dad?” Her speech was slurred. She’d obviously been up all night drinking. Again. She made to stand up from the table, but stumbled and had to grip the back of her chair to keep from falling over. “Dad, have you—have you seen Morticia? I’ve been up all night calling the neighbors asking if anyone’s—anyone’s seen her, but nobody’s…” She trailed off and he watched as tears filled her eyes. “Nobody’s seen her.”

He shook his head as he headed for the cabinets on the other side of the room. “No, sweetie. I haven’t seen her since last week.” He popped open the cabinet door before grabbing a box of pop tarts, the strawberry flavored ones, and closed the door back.

Beth’s choked voice came again behind him. “I-I knew something was wrong with her, Dad.” He turned then, and saw as Beth gripped her chair, her tears finally falling as she sobbed quietly in her spot. “She’d been acting so strange for a long time, and—and I thought it was hormones, you know? I thought she wasn’t getting sleep, or it was that breakup that happened, but—” She lifted her face to him and he could see how swollen her eyes were, how red with tears they were in that moment. “But, she quit coming out of her room. She quit talking to us. She—she stopped smiling. I-I knew something was wrong, but—but I thought she needed space.” Reaching up, Beth held her face into her hands and began sobbing into herself. “I’m a horrible mother. I should have helped her.”

Clutching at the box of pop tarts in his hands, Rick walked over to her before patting her on the shoulder. “You c-can’t beat yourself up about this, Beth. Trust me when I-I tell you that wherever she is, she’s fine, okay?”

“You don’t know that.” Beth clung to him, gripping his sleeve as she sobbed and sobbed into him. “She could be out there dead in a gutter. Or—or someone could have kidnapped her.” Beth hiccupped before clinging to him and crying into his shirt. “I just want to know if she’s safe.”

Rick awkwardly pat at her back, still clutching at the box in his other hand. “She’s safe, Beth. Y-you gotta believe me, okay? Morti’s smart. Give her a-a little credit.”

Stepping away from him, Beth wiped her face, her eyes bloodshot as she swayed from either side before gripping the back of the chair. She nodded slowly before seating herself back down at the table and poured the rest of her wine into her glass. Rick took the opportunity she wasn’t attached to him to make his way back to the garage.

“I wish…” Beth’s words came out slurred and slow as she took a gulp of wine. “I wish she would have told me. Am I—am I such a bad mother that my own daughter couldn’t tell me what was wrong?” Tears fell down her face again and she once again placed her head into her hands, crying silently at the table.

Rick didn’t know what to say to her. No matter how much he comforted his daughter over the past week, she was an absolute wreck. They all were. Every time he saw Jerry, he was like a zombie in front of the tv, more so than usual, but he wouldn’t even respond to him if Rick insulted him, something that used to give him joy to see what amazing comeback Jerry of all people would come up with, but he was only greeted with silence.

Summer had stopped hanging out with her friends. He couldn’t remember the last time she came out of her room, and every time he saw her, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days either. But Beth. Beth was destroying herself every time he saw her and every time he saw his daughter doing this to herself, he felt that pang of guilt enter his stomach and Rick had to back out of the room, turn his back on her, and leave. He couldn’t handle seeing her like this. He didn’t know what to say anymore.

He had a thought of erasing all their memories. It would be simple. He could make them forget all about Morti, and it would be much easier on everyone. But, he couldn’t erase her from the world. There were people asking about her at school, and a couple times he’d come out of the garage, he even saw Jerry talking to the police. They were taking this runaway thing seriously, and it was beginning to develop in a way he hadn’t really planned.

But, he had considered taking Morti to another universe where they could really escape all this. He wasn’t one for all this drama, and plopping them off at a fresh new start would be amazing. Seeing a new Beth who wasn’t destroying herself would be great too, but he had already begun thinking too hard about it when he thought about leaving this Beth behind to not just Morti, but him leaving as well. It would destroy her.

He hated admitting that he felt guilty about that thought. Even though he was lying to her, he didn’t want to just up and leave if it meant Beth would destroy herself once they did. He could ignore it and not think about it all he wanted, but he didn’t know why he stayed. Maybe he wanted to see how it played out. Maybe he enjoyed the thrill of lying and sneaking around to some degree.

He could always bail if things got too serious. Rick had his ways. He wasn’t completely unprepared in case something went wrong. He felt safe as he unlocked the trap door and climbed back down into the bunker, hugging the pop tarts close to him. He didn’t have anything to worry about for now. And for now, he could keep living this way with Morti down here if he wanted.

Once he approached the mattress, he was surprised to see Morti still tucked away under the covers, as though she were freezing. It looked like she was shivering in her sleep too. It was odd, because usually she was up right after he left, taking the opportunity he wasn’t there to hog the bathroom and change her clothes and stuff.

“Hey.” He called to her gently as he brushed her bangs to the side and grazed his fingers over her forehead. Immediately, he could feel the heat radiating off her and he dropped to his knees, placing his hand on top of her forehead. Shit, she was burning up. “Morti?” He shook her awake, and watched as her eyes slowly opened.

“Mmm?” She looked so tired, and just from where he was sitting, saw how pale she was. No wonder she hadn’t gotten up yet. When she saw him, she tried to sit up, but failed as though she were too weak. “H-hey...Rick.” Her voice was hoarse, and she shivered again as she retreated back under the covers.

“Y-you’re burning up.” He felt the guilt shoot into his stomach again. Did he do this? He remembered how she complained she was tired last night, and he still insisted they fuck a few more times. Goddamn, he had pushed her when she was sick. He was too focused in the moment on what he wanted, and not about how she felt.

Fuck, he really fucked up this time. He felt terrible.

Morti only curled herself back under the covers and shivered again. She closed her eyes, and he thought she drifted back to sleep right then and there, but she rolled herself onto her back. “I-I don’t feel too g-good.”

“I know.” He stood to his feet, trying to remember if he had anything in his arsenal that would help her. Sure, he could raid the cabinets in the kitchen for Tylenol or something, but he wasn’t sure if he had anything for sickness. Plus, he wasn’t sure if his concoctions could qualify as helping her or not. He hated seeing her like this, so weak she could barely move, but he moved back up to the garage and began rummaging through his things.

Some kind of fever reducer. He had something like that, he knew he did. Rick didn’t often make medicines, opting instead for more mechanical work in his spare time, but it didn’t mean he didn’t dabble in the area when he wanted. He opened one of his drawers and spotted a vial of red liquid. Picking it up, he wondered if this would do any good. It wasn’t a fever reducer, it was more for physical wounds, but a fever meant infection, right? He could always try it, it definitely wouldn’t hurt.

Picking up the vial, he grabbed a nearby needle and he made his way back into the bunker before closing the trap door behind him. Morti’s breathing was shallow as he walked over quietly next to her before crouching down on his knees and pulled the covers back. She was still naked underneath, having not gotten up to wash herself or change her clothes, and he could feel the heat come off her, even as she shivered under him.

She opened her eyes once again when he took her arm. She only looked over to him weakly as he held her arm out. “Shh.” He spoke gently to her, shushing her before he stuck the needle into her arm and flushed the red liquid into her. Morti flinched at the pain, but barely moved. “I-it’s okay, it’ll make y-you feel better, okay, baby?”

Morti nodded, closing her eyes again as he removed the needle from her and discarded it to the floor before tucking her back under the covers. Once again, she began to shiver, and he moved his fingers to her hair to brush her bangs from her forehead. Morti shivered under him as he stroked her hair, pulling it behind her ears and out of her face.

“D-don’t worry, Morti. You’ll be okay.” He suddenly had an idea as he sat there playing with her hair. “Hey, how about I get a little tv for you? You’d like that, r-right? I know a planet that sells small flat screens y-you’d like—and I-I can hook it up to your cable from in here. I-it’s a lot better than earth tvs. You can watch cartoons. H-how’s that sound?”

Silently, Morti nodded, her eyes closed. And he patted her hair before he stood up.

“I-I should get you some water too. O-oh, and there’s pop tarts if you want.” He gestured toward the box he’d left on the floor next to her. “A-are you hungry at all? I know pop tarts k-kind of suck, but I can g-get you McDonalds on my way out i-if you want.”

Morti’s reply was weak, but not unheard. “N-no...I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” Rick stood to his feet, grabbing the needle and pushing the pop tarts closer to her in case she got hungry for them later. “I’ll go get you water, a-and then I’ll be back with a tv.”

Morti nodded to him before turning over on her side and faced away from him, curled up into the covers as she continued shivering. “O-okay...thank you.”

After leaving her a bottle of water, Rick exited the bunker, closing and locking the trap door before pulling a mat on top to cover it up should anybody walk in and discover the door on the floor. Once he’d discarded of the needle and vial, he climbed into his spaceship, opened the garage door, and flew off to get Morti a tv. He wondered if he should buy her some toys too. Morti wasn’t exactly a Barbie kind of person, but she might appreciate a teddy bear to cuddle up with.

He kind of half smiled at the idea of Morti hugging onto a teddy bear while watching cartoons. She was fourteen, but he knew she still liked watching Cartoon Network and Disney channel like a little girl. Just because she was a teenager didn’t mean she’d grown out of her childish habits just yet. Maybe that was a good thing.

Because he thought it was kind of cute actually.

Chapter Text

The tv beside her droned on and on as Morticia lay on her side, her arm tucked underneath her head. The volume was turned down, even though she didn't remember turning it down, but even at the low volume it was, felt too loud for some reason.

She had fallen asleep again watching television. Waking up to that thing beside her was disorienting now, even though it had only been maybe two days since Rick brought her a tv to watch down here in the bunker. No matter how many channels she flipped, how long she sat staring at the cartoons in front of her, she only zoned out and fell back asleep. Morticia never remembered a time when she was so exhausted in her life. Each and every time Rick came to her side to check her fever, he swore between his teeth at the fact it wasn't going away.

She had a constant fever for about three days now, and he was only pumping her full of strange red liquid, insisting it was going to work, but eventually bringing her Tylenol when that didn't do jack shit for her. Even sitting up to swallow the pills made Morticia feel like she was doing exercise. Her muscles didn't want to cooperate with her, and she was in a perpetual state of feeling sleepy, groggy, and like her body had given out on her.

She lay on her side, too tired to even roll onto her back. Her chest felt heavy and ever since yesterday, she'd started coughing. The cough only made her chest hurt more, until that felt like a chore in itself too. Whenever Rick brought her food, she couldn't even smell the scent of it without feeling queasy and had to refuse, despite how adamant he was that she eat something.

With the tv droning on beside her, Morticia nodded off to sleep once again, not sure if she dreamt of anything or not. Her entire body hurt. Her chest hurt, her limbs hurt, she couldn't move or lift herself up anymore. Even while lying down, she felt spent of all her energy, never feeling this tired in her life.

"Morti?"

The sound of Rick's voice roused her from sleep and she opened her eyes agonizingly slow to see him crouched down next to her, having placed his hand against her forehead. His palm was cold against her, and it almost felt kind of nice. Morticia sighed to herself at the feeling, wanting to revel in the small things, even if it had to be something like this.

"Fuck." He swore through his teeth again, and she could see that pained look on his face as he dug through his coat pockets before fishing out the bottle of Tylenol he'd started keeping on him. "Wh-why the fuck isn't your fever going away? Wh-why the f-fuck aren't you getting better?" He looked worried. She could see it in his face. Even in as exhausted a state as she was, with no energy to move, barely any room to breathe in gulps of air, and using every last drop of willpower she had to keep her eyes open, she could see how frustrated he was.

He looked scared.

"Y-you need to eat, Morti."

Just the mere mention of food made her stomach curl and she closed her eyes before responding. "I...I can't."

"I know you can't, but y-you have to." As he spoke, Rick pulled a plastic bag beside him, one she knew was full of cookies and snack cakes that he'd been pushing on her for the past few days. A whole full cooked meal was out of the question, but he was trying so hard to get her to eat anything--even if it was only sugar.

But, even if she wanted to eat, Morticia didn't have the energy. It didn't matter what he pushed on her, how small of a meal, how delicious, how easy to eat--it didn't matter. She couldn't do it.

"R-Rick, I can't..." She closed her eyes again, wishing he would leave her alone. More than anything, she just wanted to go back to sleep right now.

She heard him sigh above her, a frustrated, if not resigning sigh. But, he backed away from her, pulling the plastic bag with him. "I-I don't understand." His voice was soft, as though he were talking to himself more then than to her. "I've pumped you full of so much medicine. Why aren't you getting better? Tylenol isn't doing f-fucking shit for you." His tone, while soft, wavered and began to shake as he spoke.

As she lay curled up under the blanket, freezing, Morticia felt herself drift off to sleep before hearing the last of Rick's words.

"I-I'll be back soon."

And she drifted off again.


 

"Morti?"

His voice, while soft and baritone, brought her from sleep. Morticia couldn't remember what she dreamt of, nor did she know how long she was asleep, but she opened her eyes to see him standing above her now. The tv flickered behind him, still playing an array of cartoons she never bothered to watch. The colors were like a blur of motion to her, and she couldn't even see what it was.

But, Rick bent down to her, pulling a black bag that dangled from his shoulder down to the floor before he pulled out several tubes of solution and needles. "Y-you're going to be okay, M-Morti. Don't worry."

And it wasn't as though she had the right to question him. As he began filling the needles with random amounts of solution, until the liquid turned a milky white, he fished her arm out from under the covers before sticking the needle into her.

It stung, but Morticia didn't even have the energy to flinch at the pain. She'd never felt so weak before, and even upon awaking, even having slept so much, all she wanted to do was sleep some more.

Rick fixed a few more solutions into an array of needles before placing them back in the black bag, before he grabbed her a bottle of water. "Drink some of this."

She shook her head. "I...I can't."

"You have to, Morti."

Her throat was parched, and even though she was thirsty, she would have been lying if she'd said she wasn't craving water right now, she just didn't have the energy to lift her head to drink.

He knew that. He had to know that.

With a gentle motion, Rick gripped at the bottom of her head, lifting her until he'd leaned her up enough that she was in his arms, and he held the water up to her, as though he were feeding an infant. She would have been humiliated, but Morticia lay limp in his arms, not even having the willpower to feel the shame she should have felt at what he was doing to her. Not like it would have mattered. And really, she should have felt grateful he was coddling her so much, right?

She should have been grateful he was taking care of her.

With more energy than it should have taken, she reached up to take the water from him, to at least give herself that kind of pride back, to feed herself, even as he held her up enough to get it down her throat. Morticia drank as much as she could, feeling sleepy from the medicine he'd shot her up with, and with the bottle almost drained, she couldn't take it anymore. It already made her feel full, and she knew if she took anymore, she would only vomit it back up.

She shook her head, pushing the bottle of water back to him. "N-no more..." and felt her strength waning once again. Her head fell limp against him as did her body as she gave into the feeling of the drugs working their way inside of her and she almost fell asleep right there in his arms.

Taking the water from her, Rick set it down to the floor next to them before he pulled her close to him, and he tightened his grip on her. "I-I know you feel bad, Morti, but you're going to be okay. I promise." With her in his arms, her consciousness fading with every passing second, Morticia felt it take her all at once as he buried his face into her hair, she felt him kiss the top of her head, and cradle her, rocking her back and forth in his hold as she let the feeling overwhelm her as she fell asleep.


 

Since time wasn't very relevant down here, Morticia wasn't sure how long she slept when she awoke next, but the first thing she was aware of was how silent it was in the bunker. The tv had been turned off, and Rick was nowhere in sight, though the plastic bag full of sweets had been left next to her. Ugh, she didn't know if she could stomach those things, even now. But, the more important thing was that she needed to pee.

Lifting herself from her spot, Morticia spent a great deal pulling her body out from the mattress. It was like she weighed a thousand pounds, and once she got to her feet, wobbled a little bit, but she made her way to the bathroom nonetheless and did her business.

Even though it was small, nothing like the bathroom in the house, the bathroom down here was sufficient. It had a small walk in shower, a toilet, all the essentials. Rick had even brought her shampoo and supplies down for her. Morticia knew it had been awhile since she'd showered, and was aware she was gross, so she decided to take a quick shower. Her energy was waning, but she had already gotten up to pee, she may as well clean herself off before going back to bed.

The process took a long time as Morticia ended up sitting down in the shower, not able to stand anymore with how much strain it was putting on her, and slowly washed her long hair, sitting under the hot water until it ran cold. It definitely felt much better once she'd washed the grime off her body afterwards and she stepped out to the steam filled bathroom.

Grabbing a towel, she dried herself off, ruffled it through her hair and wrapped it around her body. She'd been curled up naked in a blanket for the past few days, and wasn't particularly fond of the idea of dressing in her old clothes. Rick was going to have to get her more clothes from her room at some point. Or, she figured she could wash her old clothes in the sink. They would be clean at least that way.

But for now, she just wanted to go back to bed. She still felt weak and sleepy from the drugs he was pumping her full of. Whatever it was, it made her exhausted all the time, even more so than when she was weak from sickness.

When she opened the door, she froze when she saw that Rick was standing there, and he wasted no time in whirling around to her, looking surprised she had left the bed for once. "Wh-what are you doing?" He didn't sound angry, but he definitely sounded accusing. He always did.

Morticia always flinched under his tone, no matter what he was saying to her, and she felt her shoulders bunch up as he scrutinized her and she had to look off to the side. "I-I felt gross, s-so I showered."

"You don't need to be pushing yourself, Morti." When he made his way over to her, Morticia could only stand there as he held his palm up to her forehead and felt her temperature before his face fell. "Y-you're still warm. G-go back to bed."

"Okay..." And there was little she could do but obey him. As she shifted past him and back to the mattress, Morticia unraveled the towel from around her before tucking herself back under the covers. She always felt so vulnerable to be naked, but at least she wasn't covered in grime anymore. That was something at least. The moment her head hit the pillow, she felt her exhaustion take over, and wanted to fall asleep again, but Rick had moved next to her, and was digging around in that black bag again for a needle. Morticia perked up a little as he removed a syringe filled with the milky substance. "Wh-what even is that?"

"I-it's like a super antibiotic. I had to go to another p-planet t-to snag this shit, b-but it'll work, trust me. I-if you've got an infection, th-this'll knock it out in like two days."

She watched as he fitted her arm out of the covers, sticking her once again with the substance and it stung, but she bit her lip to keep from flinching. This was nothing compared to some of the shit she'd been through. The moment he flushed it into her, Morticia felt sleepy again and closed her eyes as she fell back against the pillow to relax.

He pulled the needle from her. "D-do you want the tv on?"

She shook her head. She was too tired to do anything right now, much less watch cartoons.

"Okay." She could hear it when he let out a small sigh, but then he fit his fingers through her still damp hair and gently ran through her roots. "Just rest, M-Morti."

She drifted off to sleep then, the feeling of his hands in her hair still prevalent.


 

The bunker was dark when she awoke, and an eerie silence overtook her. The tv was off, and she spotted the plastic bag of cakes still settled next to her, nothing inside opened, nothing eaten, and the tubes of green liquid that were always around her cast a soft glow around her.

Everything was silent, and it felt like time had stopped. But, that was only her imagination. It was strange to think that time stopped in this place, but Morticia had no concept of it down here. She hadn't seen the sun for days, maybe even weeks at this point, and she slept all the time it felt like ever since she'd gotten sick. It could be the middle of the night, or it could be morning. She didn't know. But, it didn't matter.

Something warm was wrapped around her, and one movement when she went to roll on her side gave her the feeling of someone behind her, curled up with their arm wrapped around her. She froze initially, like she always did, when she knew it was him. Rick had sneaked into the bed with her at some point, and was clinging to her from behind, having fallen asleep, and she felt suffocated being pulled up against him like this.

With him behind her, coupled with her own body heat, and her still present fever, she felt too hot. She was sweltering and needed to get out from under the covers. Now.

Moving just so slightly as not to wake him, Morticia tried to pull his arm out from around her. Even in his sleep, he only tightened his grip around her, pulling her closer, and she felt suffocated against him, felt it when he wrapped his arm around her so tight, her chest felt constricted, and she wanted to let out a sob as she lie there, way too hot under the covers.

She was going to have to wake him. There was no pushing him off unless she woke him up anyway, and trying to wriggle her way out from under him was out of the question. She was so hot like this, and Morticia just wanted relief, she wanted to breathe and to cool down from this.

"U-um..." Her voice was too small. There was no way he'd heard that, but she moved again, feeling him move behind her in his sleep as well, his arm only tightening its hold on her. "R-Rick?"

"Hmm?" He mumbled as he was roused from sleep.

"I-I need to get out from under the covers." Her face flushed at the thought, because that would mean her naked body was exposed, but it was useless to feel embarrassed about that. At least it would cool her off. At least this meant her fever was coming out, but goddamn, was it uncomfortable. Blushing only made her feel even more hot and suffocated like that, and she waited, not expecting him to move, or at least expecting him to go back to sleep.

But, he removed his arm from around her, and she scrambled out from under him, flipping the covers off her and allowing the cold air to cool her off as she sat up. Fuck, she was so hot, she was sweating, and it felt like she'd just run a mile. Her heart was pounding and she breathed heavy as she sat there, trying to calm down and cool off.

At her sudden movement, Rick leaned up from his spot beside her, rubbing at his face and moaning as he fought the sleep away. "S-s'wrong with you?" Even while half awake, he sounded somewhat annoyed with her, but that was his constant emotional state anyway. He sounded annoyed no matter what.

And she tried to ignore her pounding heart as she calmed down, relishing in the cold around her as it took over her entire body. "S-sorry. I-I was r-really hot." Saying it that way was embarrassing, but there was no other way she could word it.

His palm came to her forehead in that moment, and it was cold. So cold, she found herself closing her eyes to that feeling, because it felt so good. Any kind of coldness she could get right now, Morticia wanted it, even from him.

"Y-you're still warm. Th-this thing's really kicking your ass, huh?"

When he removed his palm, she looked down to her hands that clenched on the blanket that she was working back up to her legs. "I-I feel better though." And that was the truth. Ever since he'd started giving her that antibiotic, even though it made her exhausted afterward, she could feel her energy returning a little more each time. Maybe soon, she'd be able to eat something again.

"Really? Th-that's good."

As Morticia worked the blanket back around her, now cooled off, and feeling a little cold now from it, Rick reached over before she could cover herself completely and gripped her wrist, stopping her.

She froze and looked up at him. He'd begun tracing small circles into her wrist, and Morticia could feel it when the rock dropped into her stomach, when the familiar feeling of her chest seized up and it never failed to scare her--no matter how tender his touch was, no matter what he said to her. It always, always scared her.

"I was thinking..." He trailed off as he continued rubbing circles onto her wrist, moving his hand down until he was cupping her palm, and fixed his fingers in between hers, making small movements with the pads of his fingers, gently stroking her hand as he did so. "That planet I-I visited to get those medicines. I-i-it's not so bad, Morti. I-it's really bright and--and colorful, and--" He looked up at her, and she felt herself shrink under his gaze. "We could be alone."

So, he was still on this whole taking her off planet thing. He hadn't talked about it for a while, mostly because of her sickness, but the times he did mention it, he was always indecisive. Always going back and forth, always talking about how they weren't ready just yet, or how he'd have to go through a lot of trouble for a move if he decided to do this.

But, she knew it was because of Mom. Morticia knew he was struggling because of her. Whatever he was telling her when he walked out of the bunker, she had no idea. Whatever Mom thought of her now, or didn't think of her, Morticia didn't know. Mom probably thought she was dead for all she knew. Rick probably told her everything and Mom had abandoned her. But, there was no way for her to know that.

Still, the thought of him taking her off planet made her heart sink, and she could feel it. Morticia felt it when she had to look away from him, her eyes down casting to the blanket wrapped around them both, when tears filled her eyes. Going off planet meant leaving everything behind.

Everything.

Every single one of them.

It wouldn't even be another universe then, with a new Mom, Dad, Summer, a new school, and a new Jessica. She would be alone with him, and there was nothing she could do about it. If Rick decided this now, if he packed them up right now and whisked her away to another planet, Morticia could do nothing to stop him.

She knew that. She knew what her position was, and that position was nothing. Her words held no weight, her thoughts had no bearing whatsoever, and her feelings didn't matter. This was all Rick's decision, and whatever he said--it went.

She hadn't meant to cry. It just happened. Over the past week, Morticia felt as though she'd been grieving for everything, grieving for the family she knew she'd never see again, even while down in the bunker, because nobody knew she was here. As far as she knew, she had no idea what Rick was telling them, but she knew they believed whatever the fuck he said. They probably thought she was dead.

As far as she knew, she had no family anymore. No friends, no life, no future. There was no going to college, or getting a job, or succeeding in life. Not when this was her life. Not when Rick was her future.

Her tears fell, and she didn't notice as she sat staring at the blanket, until she felt Rick grip her hand so hard, and his voice raised next to her. "H-hey, what's wrong?"

And it wasn't even angry. His voice had no indication that he was annoyed with her, or pissed off. He had no reason to grow angry with her when she sat there crying, but the feeling of his hands gripping her own, his fingers linked into hers, and when he gripped too hard, that pressure brought her back.

The feeling of him hurting her flashed through her mind and she remembered him holding her down on the table until he tore his nails into her flesh, until he fucked her so hard, she was bleeding afterward and couldn't walk, until he mocked her and there was nothing she could do. Just from how he squeezed her hand too tight, Morticia was brought back.

And she panicked.

She fucking panicked at the thought of him doing that to her again, because she dared defy him. She dared cry about it when he wanted to take her off planet. Morticia didn't have the right to argue with him, or question his decisions. Morticia had no fucking right to feel this way, and she straight up panicked when she shot her head up to meet his gaze, her insides frozen with fear.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Rick, I'm sorry!" She blubbered like an idiot, with the only thing on her mind being how he squeezed her hand too hard, and how that might lead to him pushing her down into the floor to fuck her so hard that she was bleeding and crying.

She was scared, and she did the only thing she knew was going to satisfy him and stop him from getting angry at her, should he choose to do so.

Wringing her hand from his grip, Morticia reached up with both hands, grabbed his face, pulled him forward, and kissed him. She was desperate, so fucking desperate in the way she kissed him, but she panicked, she was so terrified of him lashing out at her for crying like that, for daring to act like that in front of him.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, but she didn't give him a chance to speak as she hovered away from him for a moment, only to spew out, "I-I didn't mean to, I'm sorry." And kissed him again.

Please.

She just didn't want him to do that again. She didn't mean to cry about it. She didn't mean to mourn for her family or for Jessica. She didn't mean to think about it too hard, and she was so stupid to think anything could ever be different when nothing ever would.

He pulled back from her, reaching up to grab her wrists to stop her gripping his face and Rick looked so taken aback, but she could see, even with the green lighting etching the side of his face, the blush coating his cheeks. "H-holy shit, Morti."

She couldn't look at him in her shame, and she felt the heat overtake her body. Maybe from her fever, but maybe from her shame too, and she held her head low at her pathetic display of desperation. "I-I wanna go there." She bit her lip, biting back any tears that would have come, but she stopped them. "W-with you."

"God, d-don't do that to me." He tensed in front of her, and she felt the way he continued to hold onto her wrists that he was shaking a little. "I-I don't want t-to push you when y-you're sick, but f-fuck, y-you're making it so hard."

Her shame felt like it was coating her entire body as she refused to look at him. "I'm sorry."

"Just go back to sleep, okay." Finally releasing her wrists, Rick moved himself back under the covers as Morticia sat there, trying to focus on breathing. She felt so stupid she had done that, but she straight up panicked, and she didn't know what else to do.

Honestly, what else was there for her to do? Embarrassed, she pulled the blanket back over her body and leaned herself back down, trying to relax. The thought of him taking her away to another planet was taxing, both to her mind and body, but it wasn't something she could afford to waste energy worrying about.

It would be better if she tried not so hard to think about it.

But.

That was hard. It was so hard. It sounded so impossible, being taken away to an alien world where she would be alone with him, but she knew he was capable of it. Whatever goals he was going to come up with, Rick would find a way to reach them. He'd find a way to make it work, no matter what.

And really, she didn't have the right to think about her family anymore, because he was right. She had bailed. Morticia bailed on them, on everyone. Before when she thought escape was an option, when she'd been so stupid, so fucking stupid, she didn't hesitate to bail.

So, she didn't have the right to mourn for them.

It was her fault.

This was all her fault.

And Morticia didn't deserve to feel this way anymore. She was going to be alone with him until he got bored, if he got bored, and that was the way things were going to be. It was how it was always going to be.

She closed her eyes, just as he moved to wrap his arm back around her, pulling her close, and she felt his warmth envelop her again.

This was the way things were meant to be.


 

"It's low grade."

Rick removed the needle from her arm once he'd flushed the white substance into her again. The sting that came with the antibiotics going into her never failed to make her want to flinch, but Morticia refused.

He had felt of her forehead again, and ruffled around in his black bag before fixing vials of liquid and medicines. "Christ, finally, I thought your fever was never going to go away."

She nodded. It had been days at this point, but she was finally feeling better. As she sat up, bringing the blanket with her to hide her naked body, she eyed the plastic bag that had been sitting next to the mattress untouched for so long at this point. "U-um, I want a cupcake..." Her mouth watered at the mere mention of the word.

Rick seemed surprised, but he pushed the bag toward her as he continued closing up things inside of the medicine bag. "Help yourself. E-eat all you want. I-I'll get you some real food later."

Morticia grabbed the plastic bag and dug out a box of snack cakes. Tearing open the plastic wrapping, she bit into it, relishing in the strawberry filling and could already feel that pit in her stomach screaming for more. She ate another, and tore open another plastic wrapping for more.

"Glad you got your appetite back." Standing to his feet, Rick pulled the black bag on his shoulder before turning to make his way up the ladder. "I-I'll be back. I'll bring you Wendy's or something with substance." He stopped for a moment, turning back to her. "Y-you want soda?"

She nodded, still chewing on a cupcake before reaching over to turn the tv on.

"Okay. I'll be back." And he climbed up the ladder, shutting the trap door behind him.

After swallowing what was left of the cupcakes, Morticia reached for the pop tarts and began to devour them. They were the strawberry flavored ones, and she practically inhaled that tangy flavor as she turned on cartoons. The bright, sometimes pastel colors let her get lost for a while and she didn't think. Didn't worry about it. Didn't stress as she drank the water next to her, and snacked on the pop tarts.

She even smiled at the over the top humor as the characters on screen got into dumb situations that they only do in cartoons. Well, sometimes she wondered if life were like a cartoon sometimes, when she thought about the shit she'd gotten herself into. Certainly, she never thought she'd one day travel around the galaxy visiting alien planets or meeting other versions of herself, but.

There were a lot of things she never planned to happen. Maybe Morticia was always doomed from the start, if doomed were the appropriate word. She could remember struggling as a child in school, her parents worried about her grades all the way through elementary school, as she struggled to read and write. But, maybe that was normal too. What kid didn't struggle?

It always made her feel stupid, but maybe she was judging herself too much. Maybe it was normal to suck and maybe it was normal to feel bad all the time. Nobody had it perfect. Maybe even Jessica's life sucked, even though she was perfect and beautiful and made straight A's, and could get anybody she wanted.

Morticia sighed as she brought her knees up to her chin, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as her mind wandered. The cartoon droned on in front of her, and she giggled a little at the stupid situations and wacky sound effects. She hadn't watched cartoons since she was--hell, when was it. When she was probably twelve. She'd wanted to prove she was grown up and that only little babies watched SpongeBob and looney toons. Only kids played with Barbie dolls and owned stuffed animals.

But, as she sat there, curled into herself, smiling a little at the tv, she couldn't help but feel like a little girl again. Maybe she should have indulged a little more. Maybe she shouldn't have tried so hard.

Because, she didn't know what was going to happen when Rick took her off planet. It was odd to think of living in a house with him, with nobody else around them. That was so strange, but if that's what he wanted, then he was going to make it happen. He could seclude them in the middle of the woods where nobody would find them if he wanted.

He'd promised her some bright and colorful planet, that apparently had super medicine, so she was taken care of if she ever got that sick again. But, that implied other beings lived there if there was medicine, unless he created it himself? She didn't know.

But...she gripped the blanket that had dropped off her shoulders before pulling it back up. Morticia couldn't help it either.

She couldn't help but wish it would have killed her. That Rick hadn't gone through so much trouble to give her medicine.

If only he'd left her to die.

Her chest tightened.

She wished--

Morticia wished it had killed her. She wished the infection overtook her body and killed her. But, that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to think of things like that.

She rested her chin on her knees, having finished off the pop tarts, her cupcakes, and the carnage of plastic wrappings lay on the floor around her as she continued watching cartoons, her smile faded. It wasn't fair to think of things like that.

There was no point, and she tried to think of something good, even if it wasn't good. Something like a pastel colored planet with grass like silk. A sky with colors that faded into each other to be something beautiful Morticia could look at all the time. Rick would probably berate her for that if she ever said it out loud, but--sometimes a fantasy was just a fantasy.

Her thoughts trailed off when she heard the trap door open and turned her gaze away from the tv. Rick was back faster than she thought, as she wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there in the same position, wrapped up in the blanket watching cartoons, but the same show was still on. It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes at the most, maybe even less than that.

She perked up at the idea of him bringing her fast food, and her stomach growled with the potential thought of stuffing a cheeseburger in her face after not eating for almost a whole week.

But.

The door hung open for way too long, as though he'd opened it and forgot to actually climb down, but Morticia watched in silent horror as not Rick--

But Mom.

Mom began to climb down the ladder, and the moment she saw Morticia seated there, curled into a blanket on the mattress, watching tv with wrappers all around her, she saw as her mom's expression fell from shocked, to staring blankly at her.

There was a long moment they sat staring at each other, neither saying a word, and Mom looked at her as though she were a ghost, as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing, before finally opening her mouth, and she sounded hoarse and exhausted as she spoke. "M-Morticia...?" She stumbled back for a moment, and reached up to cover her mouth in shock. "H-honey..."

Morticia stood from her spot, the blanket falling around her for a moment, and exposed her naked body, but she gripped it to cover her decency once again, not able to break the gaze with her mother. Was this even real? Was she just having a fever dream and it was conjuring up some insane scenario like this?

The moment she moved to stand up, Mom rushed over to her, and Morticia didn't have a chance to say anything to her before she wrapped her arms around her and held her close, almost squeezing her too hard as she hugged onto her, and Mom began to sob above her.

"Honey, honey, oh my baby, honey--" She babbled above her, and Morticia couldn't help but begin to cry as she felt her mother shake above her, and she hugged her back. "A-are you real? H-he told us you ran away. Oh, Morticia, w-we've spent weeks looking for you."

Her mom's words were consumed with grief, and she could practically feel the sorrow in her tone as she held onto her like Morticia would blow away in the wind, and all she could do was grip her back, cry in her hold and shake her head. Would it be a lie for her to say she didn't run away? She bailed on them before. That wasn't a lie.

Mom ran her fingers through her hair and she only clung to her harder as Morticia cried into her chest. This was surreal. Was this even happening? This couldn't be real. There was no way her mother was actually here right now, holding onto her, crying into her. "M-Mom..." Her voice was small and insignificant, but she wasn't sure what to say. What could she say?

Pulling away from her, Mom looked at her face and pulled her hair behind her ear. "Why are you down here? Honey, what happened to you?" Her voice was fraught with worry, and desperate as she gripped Morticia's shoulders, as her eyes were red with tears, and her face was pale with what was no doubt weeks of grief. Her mother looked exhausted.

Morticia couldn't open her mouth, not even now, not even in her mother's hold, naked, with nothing but a blanket wrapped around her to cover her, having been found in what was honestly the worst possible way her mother could have found her. There was no denying this anymore. There was no excuse she could come up with to deny this.

Mom knew.

She gripped her shoulders, and Morticia could see it in her expression as her face contorted from relief at finding her daughter, to horror. "Morticia, what has he done to you?"

And she froze. All she could do was cry. All she could do was sit there and sob into her mother's arms as she knew the words Morticia didn't have to say, she knew what Rick had done. Morticia couldn't even say it.

But, she didn't have to.

Mom clung onto her again, patting the back of her hair as she hugged her, and shushed her as she cradled her, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, honey. I love you, Mom loves you."

She let herself be taken in by that warmth, by her mom's touch, and cried into her, letting it all out. There was nothing she could say, but what good would it do?

Her mom sat cradling her, rocking her back and forth, and Morticia wanted to get lost in this feeling. She wanted to cling to her mom and never let go. She wanted to be brought back to the house and saved. She wanted Mom to save her, please, take her away from this place--

But.

"Beth?"

His voice came from behind them and Mom whirled with Morticia still in her grip to face Rick who stood in front of the ladder. He was frozen, and even from where Morticia stood wrapped in her mother's arms, she could see that look on his face.

And he was terrified.

When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was unusually small, so uncharacteristic of him. "B-Beth, what are you--"

But, she cut him off, and Morticia almost jumped when her mother screamed back at him. "No, DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" She clung to Morticia harder and she felt her begin to tremble around her. "Dad, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Rick held his hands up and Morticia could already see him trying to think of an excuse. "You're overreacting, sweetie, ju--"

"THE HELL I AM!" It was then she let go of Morticia who clung to the blanket around her to keep it from falling as her mother closed the distance between her and Rick, and pointed a threatening finger at him. "YOU TOLD ME SHE WAS GONE. YOU--YOU HAD US ALL WORRIED SICK SHE UP AND RAN AWAY. YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME, DAD!"

Morticia watched with her breath held as Rick shrank back from Beth, who was screaming at him. She had never heard her mother scream like this before, this angry, this hysterical. But, he was strangely calm, if not a little shaken as he responded, his expression not waning. "Okay, I lied. I-I admit it, okay. I've had her the whole time, y-you happy?"

Beth covered her mouth with her hands and Morticia could hear her begin to choke on horrific sobs. "What did you do to her?" Her voice had dropped to a fearful whisper, one that even made Morticia shiver at the sound. "Dad, what the fuck did you do to her?"

"I didn't--"

"Don't GIVE ME THAT SHIT!" Morticia watched as her mother reached out, and punched Rick across the face so hard, that he stumbled, almost falling to the side, but he cradled the spot she'd hit, glaring across at her.

"Goddammit, Beth! Y-you're overreacting!"

"Like hell!" She didn't break her stance, only holding her fists up again as though ready to punch him a second time. "How could you do this? Dad, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Her mother began to break down into tears then, sobbing hysterical, angry tears. "I-I let you into my house, and you do this to my daughter?" She brought her hands up once again to cover her mouth in horror, even as Rick held his hands up to her.

"Look, sweetie, I know you're upset with me, but listen. I can make this all go away, alright?" As he spoke, he reached into his coat pocket, and Morticia watched with horror as he removed a gun. It wasn't like the portal gun or the disintegration gun. Was he going to shoot her mom? No, he wouldn't do that, she knew he still cared about Beth, but she only watched in horror as he pulled the trigger, right as Beth was about to scream back at him, no doubt to berate him more, but a flash of light shot from the gun and Morticia shielded her eyes, feeling her stomach leap at the thought that Rick had just shot her mom.

But, she opened her eyes, only to see Beth lying unconscious on the floor, no blood, no signs of injury, no indication that she was hurt. It looked as though she were merely sleeping.

Without wasting a moment, Rick moved over to her, and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the ladder. "W-wait, Rick!" She looked back to her mom, still worried she was hurt. "Wh-what did you do to her?"

"She's fine. Sh-she'll wake up with a headache, but I-I didn't hurt her, okay. Stop worrying." Once he tugged her up the ladder, Morticia found herself in the garage.

It had been so long since she'd been out of the bunker. The light from outside indicated it was early morning, and she even heard the chirping of the birds as the early morning sun rose above the trees. It was cool, and she could see the grass on their lawn was damp with dew.

Rick pushed her toward the ship, and it was packed full of duffle bags, boxes, and other assortment of items. It looked like he'd been packing for a long time.

"M-My fucking fault there, I-I was a fucking idiot and left the g-goddamn mat off the goddamn door. Th-the fuck's your mom so snoopy for? Sh-she's been so hammered lately, I didn't think sh-she still had it in her to f-fucking go digging through my shit for any damn reason."

Morticia could say nothing as she stepped into the passenger side of the ship, pulling the blanket over her to hide her decency as Rick pulled himself into the driver side and slammed the door shut. As always, Morticia clicked her seatbelt on, but it probably wouldn't make a difference. Rick revved the machine to life, and the whole thing vibrated below them, springing to life. He turned to her before flying out of the garage.

 "I-I erased Beth's memories. Sh-she's going to wake up, she'll be a little confused, b-but she won't remember coming down there and finding you. S-so don't worry about it."

Like she had any right to worry about that. Morticia only nodded, looking down to her hands as she clutched at the blanket around her when the ship took off the floor and they were soon in the air. She didn't bother looking out the window at the house, at the place they were leaving behind. It would only hurt more if she did.

She wasn't even sure if she felt relief when Beth found her. Because, what could her mom possibly do against him? It wasn't like the moment Mom found her that Morticia was going to magically be saved. Rick wouldn't make things that simple for her.

But.

She did feel something.

Maybe something good even.

When Mom didn't abandon her. She'd been looking for her the whole time, she'd been devastated to find that out about her dad.

She didn't turn her away. Mom had tried to protect her.

It made her sad.

It made her so sad as she sat there in the ship, as Rick flew them off planet to wherever he was taking her, and she felt her heart breaking at the thought of leaving it behind, that he hadn't even given her mother the decency of remembering those horrible things.

But, maybe that was a good thing too. The thought of leaving Mom with something that horrible on her conscious, she knew that would kill her. Mom would never forgive herself. Nobody needed that.

Not even her.

Morticia closed her eyes, feeling the vibration of the ship below her as they flew out of earth's atmosphere and into the depths of space.

There was never hope before, but maybe that was okay. She was sad. Morticia couldn't afford to think of being saved anymore, because she didn't deserve that.

Rick pulled a bag into her lap, breaking her away from her thoughts, and she looked down to see it was fast food. "Th-there's some Wendy's. Y-you need to eat something."

But, she wasn't hungry anymore. Even though that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for her to do this to herself, to feel awful all the time, to torture herself with those thoughts anymore.

Morticia couldn't do it anymore.

She didn't want to be this way. Didn't want to think this way. It was exhausting to always be this way, to always think this way. And she just couldn't do it anymore.

She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Pulling the bag open, she nibbled on a French fry before looking out the window at the array of stars and asteroids they passed by.

The feeling inside of her hurt, and it was probably always going to hurt. Maybe it would never go away, but maybe it was okay it was never going to go away. She didn't know. Morticia didn't want to spend the rest of her life dwelling on what could have been--or what her life could have turned out if only she'd done this and that differently, because it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

She sighed, and tried to focus on something good.

Mom hadn't abandoned her. Before Rick erased her memories, she clung to her, she held her, she cried for her, and she protected her. Maybe it was good to focus on something good like that--no matter how fleeting. No matter how little it mattered. Or even if it didn't matter. It mattered to her. That meant the world to her, to be held by Mom like that and cradled and for a moment--everything was okay too.

She nibbled on another fry.

It wouldn't do any good to cry, because she couldn't. Morticia wanted to expel the bad thoughts, the bad emotions, but she already had. And it did no good. All that there was to do was to accept it.

And maybe that was all she could do.

 

Chapter Text

Things weren't bad.

It was difficult to say whether or not it was good though. But, it wasn't bad. Maybe that wasn't the right way to put it. Maybe she was confusing things again, but. Sometimes she often sat lost in her thoughts and could sigh in a kind of way that resembled...maybe content?

Morticia wasn't sure anymore.

Things were different, that much was obvious. She was no longer the type of person who often questioned her actions or her thoughts, because there was no longer anyone there for her to worry about disappointing. Mom wasn't there. She didn't have to stress over the idea of her thinking she was disgusting--even though she'd seen with her own two eyes that possibility of Mom finding out about her, and how she stood up for her. Morticia was content with the idea that even if Rick hadn't taken her memories, if it had to happen all over again, there was no doubt in her mind Mom would take her side once again.

Something like that was so foreign to her back then. She'd been so scared for so long about what Mom would think of her--what she would do, that she was eaten up with the guilt of both not being able to tell her, and of the idea of telling her. There was always a lingering fear deep down in the pit of her stomach that held her back, forced her into silence, because she was too afraid of being told she was disgusting. Maybe that didn't matter anymore.

She often thought about what would have happened had she told Mom. Just up and spilled her guts to her. But, maybe nothing would have been different after all. No matter how many times she played the scene over and over again through her head, or how many alternate routes she imagined up--it always ended the same.

And the ending was that Rick won.

Without a doubt, even if she worked up the courage once before to tell somebody, she knew now the consequences of that action. And that was that nothing would change. It wouldn't have mattered if she had done something differently, or kept her mouth shut. It really didn't matter in the end.

Had Rick chosen to wait until she graduated high school, or three days down the road, he would have still taken her away to this...place.

Morticia never spent too long thinking about it. If she did that then she probably would drive herself insane with all the what if scenarios she could have concocted that wouldn't have even mattered in the end. Really though, sometimes she sat by the window, looking out at the pastel colored trees that resembled giant wads of cotton candy, with dangling fruit that glowed at nighttime, and sighed to herself.

This thought of being taken off planet was such a scary thought to her before. Maybe it still was. She honestly didn't know anymore. But, she sat staring as the sky descended into darkness, as the plant life that only opened for the daytime sky closed in on itself and the insects emerged, all glowing different colors as they hovered around the red grass and the glowing fruit trees and the constant gentle breeze gave everything a continuous flow of movement. It could have been considered peaceful. Morticia felt content while watching from the window. Sometimes cable didn't matter, her comic books didn't matter, and even her video games didn't matter all that much. But, she could enjoy the small things sometimes, even if it was only looking out the window at an alien planet.

This wasn't scary anymore.

Life moved on, and so did Morticia.

No matter how often she sat in place, lying on the couch, feeling as though her brain turned to mush as she watched random cartoons on tv, and felt like she didn't move for days, time continued to turn. It was a strange concept once she realized, when she walked into the bathroom one day and realized just how long her hair had gotten then. How tired she looked in the mirror that day. How the clothes she was wearing were getting a little too tight.

And growing up wasn't something she thought of as something that hit you all at once. It just happened gradually because it isn't meant to be noticed. But, standing there in the bathroom, her hair too long, almost at her butt, her clothes tightening around her developing figure, and the realization that she had been on this planet with Rick for two years hit her too hard.

She was sixteen.

She shouldn't have grown an inch. She shouldn't have gone up a cup size with her bra. She shouldn't have started getting curves and having her hair go crazy on her. Her face shouldn't have started getting more angular as she lost her baby fat around her cheeks. She wasn't a person who had been living on an alien planet for two years with her grandfather. She wasn't someone who had slowly adjusted to actually living with him for this long until that had become her life.

She didn't recognize herself in the mirror. Not this. This couldn't have been her.

Morticia clutched the edge of the sink and cried for a long time that day. It wasn't even something she could have explained had anyone asked her why she was upset. Because she wasn't sure why seeing herself this way was upsetting. Growing up shouldn't have been upsetting. It felt like she was wasting away for some reason--even though she was healthier than she'd ever been before.

Rick took good care of her. He always made damn sure the moment Morticia so much as sneezed in his presence, he had medicine ready for her. She couldn't remember the last time she was even sick. And the food on this planet was more than enough to sustain them both. The fruit was rich and full of vitamins, always at the ready if they ever ran out of junk food, and it tasted as though a full course meal had been eaten. Morticia could taste so many flavors in just one fruit.

It was strange to think of this planet as a place to live when they first came here. It was colorful, full of that pastel palette Morticia imagined up before, but it didn't disappoint her on that end. It really was a beautiful place, and the house they lived in was just that. A house. A regular, non-assuming, suburban-ass house. The fact Rick had found a planet with weirdly earth-like houses on them was the weirdest part of all. Morticia wasn't sure why it was so strange to her, considering the things she'd seen before, when she would go to bed at night in a normal bedroom, to wake up to a sun that sometimes shown pink if the clouds were positioned blow it, or blue.

It was a colorful world to be on, and once she got over the initial culture shock so to say, she got used to it. Going outside to the plant life was her favorite, because she could sit and observe the flowers for hours. She'd already seen everything her planet had to offer, but to see trees the size of skyscrapers, and blue leaves with pink crystal fruits dangling off them, she felt as though it were a dream. This was the type of world that existed in a fantasy.

And of course, at the end of the day, she returned to the normal, unassuming house they lived in. Maybe it was good that Rick wanted them to live in a place like that. Morticia wasn't sure she could handle living in a palace, or an alien resort, or anything too out of the ordinary. A regular house with tv, electricity, plumbing, and all of that worked oddly well on this planet. She could have her moments of normalness and go out to the fantasy world when she pleased.

Maybe Rick even brought her here because he knew she would enjoy exploring the forests and the fields that were always so colorful, sometimes interchangeably. Maybe he took too long to find a planet, because he wanted to find one Morticia would love. It didn't have to be about how far away it was, or how safe they would be. It wasn't as though anyone would find them.

No vicious predators loomed around them, and there was hardly any life on the planet at all, save for them, and the insects.

That too became normal.

Waking up every day, when it first happened, when she first knew he had purposefully given them a bedroom together, and that was going to be her bedroom as well, was hard. She tried to fight for a room of her own, but he wouldn't even listen to her.

That might've been the hardest part, waking up next to him every morning, but even Morticia had gotten used to that too. It was something that was going to happen, and she had gotten to the point where--okay, it happened. It was going to keep happening. There was no point in wasting her energy being scared every time she knew when she opened her eyes that he was always going to be there.

Just no point.

So, she accepted it. And it stopped being scary at some point. She didn't know when, as time slowly became a construct she didn't have to worry about in a place such as this, but waking up next to him, when she used to find that her heart pounded in her chest and she would break out in a cold sweat--it stopped. Everything stopped. It was the normal morning routine to roll over, see Rick beside her, sigh to herself, and get up from bed to start her day.

Morticia didn't know if she was even allowed to feel scared anymore. There was no point, no point in thinking she would be saved, and no family to go running to for comfort. Rick was the only person who supplied her with company.

That took a lot of getting used to. Even though back in the day she spent quite a lot of time with him on adventures, to be living alone with him on a secluded planet all by themselves, not only was she expected to submit whenever he wanted to fuck, but the times she found herself going through problems, something stupid even, like confusing emotions or something as simple as needing her hair cut--he was the only person she could go to.

It was weird to go to him after they spent a long night together, after he'd taken his time with her to be gentle on those rare occasions he wanted to take things slow, and wake up next to him to ask him to cut her hair for her. It soon became normal, and maybe that was the worst part of it, to see it as a normal part of her life to sit down in a chair in the bathroom, while Rick scooped up handfuls of her hair, and snipped it off until it fell into piles on the floor. And still, when Morticia looked in the mirror, it still hung past her shoulders.

Those normal mundane things like watching tv with him, or eating dinner with him, weren't so scary anymore. When Morticia thought she had the right to think anything would be different and this wasn't her life now, she had to take a deep breath and sigh.

It never failed that she felt disgusting, but maybe that was her fault. In the times he came to her, touching her gently, leading her down to the bedroom to hold onto her and kiss her and fuck her into the bed sheets, she clung to him, scratching his back and moaning his name and relishing in it every fucking time he made her come. Never did that pang of guilt leave her when she hated herself for liking it.

She tried so hard not to think about it, to ignore those guilty emotions that were eating at her, that never went away out of the two years she'd spent alone with him.

And she tried. She tried so, so hard to be good for him.

Those times he left to fly off planet for reasons unknown to her, and she was left alone, she did little else but watch tv and sit on the couch for hours on end. But, she made sure that the moment he opened the door, passed the threshold, she was there to greet him. Clinging to his sleeve and hugging onto him as if he would be blown away, she held him tight and told him she missed him.

He always hugged her back, smiled, and kissed her.

Morticia didn't know what was wrong with her. It wasn't like she could ask him for advice on things like that, things like when she would walk into his study at night, knowing he was working, but dressed herself in one of his shirts, her panties, and a pair of socks. She knew he liked that, but always confused herself why she went out of her way to do something he liked. Maybe it was because she grew anxious when he hadn't touched her for a while and the fear that it meant he was angry at her caused her to take the plunge herself.

Morticia wasn't sure why she did it.

Even if she climbed in his lap, interrupted his work, and kissed him on the face, she always felt like she was doing something wrong. But, not doing anything made her feel like she was doing something even worse. There was no winning.

And no matter how often she did that, clung to him, whispered in his ear that she loved him, she could feel the trembling of his body, could feel his erection digging into her just from the way she sat in his lap, and he never, ever turned her down. Morticia knew when she entered his office what was going to happen, but somehow, she felt that knowing he was going to treat her this way was better than sitting around, not knowing if he was angry or not.

She confused herself sometimes, but she tried not to worry about it. After all, it didn't matter, did it?

There was no more hiding or feeling scared someone would stumble in on them when they did this. Rick could pull her arm while she was retrieving fruit from the fridge and do it right there in the kitchen if he wanted. Morticia had no right to protest and she knew the consequences if she ever did refuse him what he wanted.

It was so much better just to let it happen, and she could even enjoy it sometimes. It didn't have to be bad, and he was right. Morticia was the one making it bad.

And maybe not being around the family was a good thing. Morticia couldn't remember the last time they had a fight, or when he berated her. Even if she asked him for advice on stupid things, twiddling her fingers and afraid he would call her stupid, he would shrug, and answer. It was almost like being here put him in a much better mood. Maybe because he also didn't have to worry about placating Beth or sneaking around the house all the time.

It became normal.

Morticia could even find those small moments when she'd ask something stupid of him, for some sense of normal, something mundane to do--like watch a movie. He would pat the spot next to him on the couch, ushering for her to sit next to him, and she did. They would watch a movie while she snuggled up next to him, reveling in his warmth and feeling a strange sense of comfort when he wrapped his arm around her.

It was okay because it was normal.

And even though Morticia cried in the shower sometimes, that was okay. If she had to leave the room because Rick kissed her too hard, so hard she couldn't breathe, and it scared her for a moment until she instinctually pushed away from him, she had to catch herself and push through, because that was normal.

Even at night, lying in bed with him, she clung to his shirt while staring at the patterns in their blanket and held onto him for a few moments. She always felt as though she were compelled to say something to him, but when the time came, she never knew what it was.

So, sometimes she settled for, "I love you," and let that be it. And when Rick pulled her into him and hugged her tight, Morticia could feel the ache in her chest. It had to be good though. That feeling was something good and he was good to her. He loved her and she knew that she loved him too. It didn't matter if she still cried sometimes, or if she felt scared when he got a little rough with her from time to time. He wasn't hurting her.

Time moved on. Morticia moved on.

She was outside picking flowers when they came. When she had been in a better mood that day, not a great mood, but a favorable one, and even dressed in that blue dress Rick got for her, she didn't want to waste the good weather outside by sitting inside all day. And the flowers were bloomed in the daytime sky, looking so beautiful, looking so colorful as she walked through and enjoyed the scents around her.

When the portal opened and she stared across from her, with the pile of flowers in her arms as they stepped through, when the Rick with the pink sunglasses cocked his gun and held it up to his chest and she recognized him immediately. His Morty pulled his glasses back through his hair, his eyes wide when he saw her, when he recognized her, and she couldn't help but notice how much older he looked.

It had only been two years, but he was taller than her, and his voice was deep when he ran to her, wrapping his arms around her and exclaiming her name, mumbling over and over, "We found you, we found you."

Morticia didn't know how to react. Her flowers had all but tumbled to the ground in a heap and she held onto Morty, not sure if he was even real or if her mind had conjured up some messed up dream world she was in. When that scent of citrus coated her senses and she felt like it had engulfed her brain, she almost sobbed into his arms.

He was so beautiful. He was older, taller, and she even noticed his hair was longer, but he was real and that made him beautiful. Morticia hugged onto him, hoping that this wasn't a figment of her imagination as she relished in that scent on him, of his familiar presence, this other her she hadn't known for very long, but also whom she felt she knew everything about, because he was her.

He knew how she felt.

The other Rick walked toward her, and she wasn't sure how to react to his presence either, but he only said one thing to her. "Where is he?"

And she couldn't answer, but she didn't have to.

The door of the house from across the field snapped open and she could hear her Rick exclaiming from where he was, no doubt swearing once he saw the other Morty and Rick there on the planet.

The first thought to cross her mind was that he was going to kill them. Morticia always assumed he had before, and she tried not to think about them too often, because what was the point of thinking of these other versions of them if they were dead? Not knowing their fate would eat at her, and she still felt as though she were dreaming as she watched her Rick cross the field, reaching into his coat pockets for some kind of weapon.

But, the other Rick only pushed his sunglasses up, aimed his gun, and fired in his direction before he had even reached them. Something shot from the gun, not unlike a beam or a laser, but it was something that stunned him without him even having gotten close, and Morticia watched as her Rick tumbled to the ground.

She clung to Morty, fearing for a moment that he was dead, but the other Rick only walked over to him, raising his head up by the roots of his hair to show that he was still alive, although limp and unable to move. He blinked in rapid session, unable to talk, unable to move a muscle, and only darted his eyes back and forth frantically.

The other Rick pulled a different gun from his pocket, this one more reminiscent of a disintegration gun, but Morticia could not have known for sure what it was. The other Rick looked up at her as he put his finger to the trigger. "Where d-do you want me to shoot him, sweetie?"

And she felt the horror engulf her. Morticia only clung to Morty, tearing her eyes away from the scene, and felt the sobs pour into her body. She wanted to bury her head into his chest and not have to watch this. She wanted to reach out, stop him, and say don't hurt him. But, that wasn't right. She was so confused, not knowing what to do as she stood there, as she couldn't look at her Rick crumbled onto the ground, unable to move as he sat at the mercy of this other Rick who placed the gun to his head.

"M-Morty, take her into the house, will you?"

She wanted to protest. She wanted to tear herself from Morty's arms and stop his Rick from shooting him, she felt compelled to fling herself in front of his body and protect him, but at the same time--she didn't want to let go of Morty. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her toward the house, and she let him. She clung to him, hoping he was real, hoping this wasn't some dream she was going to wake up to in a sweaty mess with Rick next to her complaining about how restless she was.

Because, there was no way this was real.

Morticia was so confused as Morty led her into the house, shutting the door behind him and sat her down on the couch. His smile was genuine and she missed that smile so much. She missed his kind eyes and the way his cheeks sparkled with that pink glitter he always wore, and she only clung to him more, hugging onto his arm like he was her lifeline.

"Hon, I'm so sorry we took so long, but we..." He trailed off for a moment, but only to swallow as he looked down in guilt. "We couldn't find you."

How could she have known someone was even looking for her? She wanted to cry, but it felt like all the emotions she had experienced up to this point meant nothing. The tears were stagnated, the fear had fallen so deep, she couldn't even afford to feel it anymore, and all she felt as she sat there sitting next to Morty was...nothing. Not even relief. Not even happiness. Not sadness. Not anger. Morticia felt numb.

"Rick had to--had to build his portal gun from scratch because your Rick took it and--I mean, that took a while, because he's not as into the whole science thing as most Ricks, but then we had to actually track you down, but--but, we've been looking for so long." The only thing she could hear in Morty's voice was agonizing guilt. But, she had no idea someone was looking for her this whole time.

That should have made her happy. She only gripped his shirt harder as she hugged onto him. Why didn't that make her happy? What was wrong with her?

When his hand came to her hair and he brushed his fingers through, Morticia wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Nothing was coming and she only hugged him harder and he gently brushed through her hair. "I'm sorry, hon."

She shook her head. There was no reason for him to apologize to someone like her. She didn't even know, she had no idea someone was looking for her this whole time, but what could she have done if she had possibly known that? It wasn't like Morticia could have done anything.

A sound came from outside. Muffled, as though the space around them had been sealed off, but there was no mistaking the sound of the other Rick's gun going off, and Morticia clung to Morty even tighter, feeling her nails dig through the fabric of his shirt and pierce her own skin.

He patted her back. "I-I know this is silly to ask, but are you okay?"

Morticia shook her head. She had no idea what to say to him. She was supposed to be grateful he was here, she was supposed to be beside herself with joy that someone had been looking for her this whole time, that someone out there cared enough to come and find her.

But.

She only clung to him, and felt her tears stagnate in her eyes, refusing to fall. Her body felt numb, and her emotions were null, but she still felt pain for some reason. "I-I..." Her words were quiet, almost a whisper, but didn't go by unheard. "I...loved him." She squeezed Morty's shirt tighter. Maybe she had only been telling herself that for so long that she started to believe it. Maybe she wasn't grieving. Maybe she was.

Morticia didn't know.

But, Morty only patted the back of her head, pulling her close to him as he hugged onto her and rocked her back and forth. "You didn't love him, hon. It's okay to say so."

But she had been saying those words for so long, that they must have been true, right? He must have loved her to bring her to this planet. He must have loved her enough to take her away from everyone and give her everything she could have ever wanted.

The words felt empty. No matter what she said, Morticia knew the words were just words, having said them so often that they were true, and they felt true to her, she knew it in her gut, just like she knew the way the blood ran through her veins, she knew she had loved him. Maybe she was grieving for him, or for herself. This place had become home to her in the past two years and to see it from the perspective she was now--that this was all there was and there was nothing.

Morticia felt nothing.

Morty brought her up from the couch, never once letting go of her hand. He was always touching her in some manner, whether it be letting her cling to his shirt, or holding onto her hand, but they both rose to stand once his Rick entered the door, and there was no mistaking the splatter of blood on his clothes.

He looked apologetic, but there was nothing he could say to her. Morticia only looked to the ground, away from him as he pulled out his portal gun and shot a portal in front of the tv. Morty took her hand, leading her through until she stepped out into the familiar place she recognized as their apartment. It had only been a short while she'd stayed in this place, but there was no mistaking something like this. It felt like a lifetime Morticia had spent in Morty's overly saturated bedroom with his pink curtains and his ugly colored wallpaper, but it was so familiar, and she almost collapsed onto the floor once they walked through.

Rick excused himself immediately, exiting out of the bedroom to what Morticia could only assume was to change out of his bloody clothes. He was too nice. He didn't want to expose her to that more than he had to, and she was alone with Morty in his room.

She finally got a good look at him, and she still couldn't believe this was really him.

It was like he hadn't changed a bit, but he was still so different. His hair was longer, freshly bleached where she couldn't see his dark roots, but he had colored random sections blue and pink to match his clothes. His face was the same, if not more angular, and he smiled at her in the exact same way he always used to.

Time moved on for him as well, but Morticia couldn't believe he had spent this whole time looking for her. Him and his Rick, having only met her for a short while, spent all this time building their machines to track her down. And she was here.

Morticia was here, in his bedroom once again, holding his hand and feeling that warmth she remembered so long ago when she first fell into his universe.

If this were a dream, she no longer cared. It was something she'd spent so long trying not to worry about, but now being ripped away from that life she had cemented herself to, the life she had built with her Rick, because she was so sure things were going to be that way forever, but things changed. The routine was broken, and she didn't know what to do with herself.

Morticia was lost.

What was she going to do without him?

Her tears finally spilled, having hung in her eyes for so long, and once they did she felt all her emotions break loose. Morticia cried. She clung to Morty's shirt and hugged him so tight, she knew she was squeezing the breath from him. She held onto him as though he would blow away, as though he really were a dream going to be ripped away from her, and she would only wake back up in bed with Rick once again.

She cried for Rick. For the person who took her away from everything she knew, and who she both hated and loved and now felt lost without. He had ruined her life and yet created a new one for her, so now that it was gone, there was nothing left for her. Morticia cried for the family she had abandoned so long ago, now wishing she could go back to them, but wishing she could stay with Morty, because--she just didn't know what to do.

She mourned him.

She mourned herself.

Morticia cried and cried into Morty's shirt until all her emotions were spent, until every last drop was drained from her, and she could cry no more.

The whole while, Morty patted her back, brushed his fingers through her hair, and rocked her back and forth, shushing her gently, allowing her to cry, and whispering comforting things to her like, "It's okay, hon, you're going to be fine. Everything will be okay, hon."

She wanted to believe him so bad. She wanted to believe Morty was real, and this was real, and that her reality didn't have to be seclusion with only her thoughts to keep her company. Morticia wanted to lose herself in Morty's comfort, in his presence as he stood wrapping his arms around her until she felt so safe with him, and she wanted to believe what he said was true.

Time passed, and she hadn't left his bedroom once that day.

He let her borrow his pajamas, but since he was bigger than her now, they were falling off her, but she could say that only made them more comfortable. When dinnertime approached, she didn't want to admit to him that she couldn't look at his Rick, but he understood. It wasn't his fault, it was difficult for her to explain, but she didn't blame him.

It was a foreign concept to think that he had shot her Rick, and that he no longer existed. Just like a dream, it felt like a fleeting idea that had come, but was about to be ripped away from her any second. Morticia was on the edge, waiting for the moment she opened her eyes and woke up in bed next to him again, sighing as she realized this had only been her imagination.

Morty brought her soup, and they ate together on his bed as he told her stories about the random adventures they'd been having at the night club while she'd been gone. She knew that he was only trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't take her mind off of anything, and she felt bad she couldn't even smile at his stories. She was a horrible person not to stay engaged, but he knew it wasn't full proof.

It was just noise after all. Noise to bring some sense of normal to what this meant now.

Morticia finished her soup and sat at the foot of his bed as he curled up next to his pillow, having put the trays off on his dresser. He seemed on the fence whether or not he wanted to speak up, but he finally sighed to himself and spoke in a gentle tone. "Hon?"

Morticia looked up at him. It was odd how she felt so numb earlier, cried until she felt exhausted, and now only felt numb again. She was numb and tired and it was like no other emotion had ever even existed for her until that point. Maybe this was all she ever knew.

He continued once she made eye contact with him. "Y-you don't have to talk about it, okay? You don't have to do anything, b-but I have to ask." He bit his lip and looked off to the side. "D-did you want to stay with us, or do you want us to take you back to your family? We'll be glad to take you in. It's your choice."

Her choice.

Morticia felt like she never had a choice to begin with. Nothing had ever been her choice and she was so used to following orders that to be asked something--she looked down at her hands. It felt like no matter what she said to him, it was going to be a wrong answer, and something bad would happen. If she chose to stay with him, something would inevitably go wrong and shit would hit the fan. But, if she went back home, would her family even accept her?

She couldn't even imagine what had happened once she left. What if the family had been torn apart by their leaving? What if they had moved on from this and if she showed back up, it would only pull them back in a slump?

She remembered how Mom stood up for her and tried to protect her when she found her down in the bunker, when Mom was so angry at what had happened to her.

Mom loved her, she knew. That only made going back worse, because she couldn't be sure if that love had destroyed her mother or not. Part of her wanted to go back and see them again, to let them know she was safe, but she couldn't bear it if they had broken as a family because of this.

"I-I..." Her voice was hoarse and exhausted as she continued staring at her hands, and she felt the tears come to her eyes once more. "I d-d-don't know what to do..."

"You don't have to make up your mind right now, it's okay." Morty pulled back the covers and snuggled himself down under the blanket before he patted the spot next to him, ushering for her to do the same.

Tentatively, Morticia climbed across the bed and crawled under the blanket with him. Already, she could feel a warmth from him that she hadn't felt in a long time. He felt comforting, but she wasn't even sure if that's what she needed right now. With her head laid down on the pillow, she felt ashamed as she couldn't look at him, as she allowed his citrus scent to overwhelm her and calm her down, but she closed her eyes as she spoke. "Wh-what if they don't want me back?"

She didn't even have to clarify for him to know she meant her family. "Don't be so hard on yourself, hon. I know that it's scary because you've been away from them for so long, but y-you've got to remember that they love you. They're always going to love you. If you want to go back, w-we'll take you, and if you don't like what you see, we'll bring you back here."

He snuggled in next to her, until she felt so warm she was overtaken with sleep almost instantly. His bed was so soft and he felt so warm next to her. So safe. His words lingered in her mind as she drifted off.

"It'll be okay, hon."


 

When she looked into the mirror, Morticia didn't recognize herself. Her face was pale, sunken like she hadn't eaten food in days, and she felt disgusted at this vision of herself she was seeing before her as she brushed her hair to her reflection that morning. Washing her face only did so little for her other than bring her from her groggy state, and she couldn't help but notice the bags under her eyes that were almost too prominent.

She looked exhausted.

In that blue dress she wore, she felt like once she stepped outside of that door, the pastel plains of the planet were going to meet her, but she was instead greeted with the neon palette of Morty's bedroom.

He had dressed in what she could have considered something 'normal' for once. He'd picked out a blue t-shirt and some jeans, and she couldn't help but feel he looked so odd dressed that way. She knew it was because of where they were going, and had it been any other time, she would have laughed at him. But, she just couldn't bring herself to do that today.

She'd already pinched herself multiple times that morning to assure herself she was still, in fact, awake. It was a strange feeling to think that Rick was going to appear in a portal any second and come dragging her away again.

She couldn't believe he was gone. That was the part she was having the hardest time dealing with. He had always been there before, almost an omnipresence in her life, to go from that to--not existing--was fucking with her. It was an unreal scenario in which she couldn't see actually happening, and in which she was still trying to come to terms with. Morticia still thought she was dreaming.

Morty looked at her and smiled, and pulled his braided hair behind his shoulder. "Are you ready?"

She shook her head. Morticia was nowhere near ready for this, but if she put it off any longer, the unknown would only eat her up inside more than the knowledge of what happened at home ever would. She had to know. She had to know what Mom and Dad would think of her, if they even cared if she showed back up at their doorstep.

Morty put a reassuring hand to her shoulder as she walked close to him and gave her a gentle smile. "I know it's easier said than done, but d-don't worry about it, okay? You can always stay with us."

She nodded, although it was a solemn nod.

He roped his arm around hers and held her close to him. "I'll be there with you, okay? You won't be alone." And he shot open a portal in his bedroom.

Morticia knew once she stepped through that portal she would be back at home, and she clutched at Morty's arm tighter, because...part of her didn't want to see what was on the other side. All the horrible thoughts came crashing down and she worried for what had happened in that time she'd spent away from them. What if they weren't even there anymore? What if they somehow came to despise her?

But, she also knew those kinds of thoughts didn't matter. Morticia had spent so much of her time thinking about the what ifs and the possibilities to the things she knew nothing about. If only something had been different for this scenario, or if only something had gone different, then she wouldn't even be here right now. But, that didn't really matter to think of things like that.

All that mattered was to go forward.

Tugging onto Morty's arm, she took a step through the portal, and the sight of her own house sitting before her brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly swallowed down the thought of crying. The first thing she noticed was how unkempt the front yard looked. The grass was tall and going crazy, the patch of flowers her mother once took care of now only sat as an abandoned spot of dirt in the ground, and there was random furniture placed on the front.

The place was a mess.

When the portal closed behind them, she squeezed Morty's hand and he gave her another reassuring look. She knew she didn't have to go into that house if she didn't want to, but Morticia knew if she didn't now, she would regret it later.

She took a breath, and let go of Morty before she opened the front door.

The inside of the house wasn't as much of a wreck as she'd previously thought. It was definitely in a state of neglect as she could see stacks of food on the couch and the television buzzing with a random program. Wine bottles lay in disarray to the floor, and she almost choked on a sob to see the place like this.

But at the table, she noticed her mother immediately, sitting hunched over in her position, a wine bottle beside her as she had apparently made her way through half of it, and she perked up when the front door opened, looking over at Morticia.

Her mother's eyes widened, and Morticia froze, not sure what to say, or how she was going to react to her, or if she would even recognize her. Mom looked more of a wreck than the house did. Her hair was unbrushed, her face pale and she had bags under her eyes, but when she saw Morticia standing there, she saw her eyes shine with tears, and her mother broke down crying.

"No..." She could hear her mumbling as she crossed the room to the table, and Mom sobbed quietly. "Don't do this to me again."

"Mom?" Morticia touched her shoulder, still not sure what she should do, or what she should say.

Mom looked up at her again, the fresh tears coating her cheeks, and she grabbed Morticia's arm, squeezing just a little. "Are you--are you real? Am I dreaming? I've dreamt about you so much, there's no way you can be real."

Morticia reached down to hug her, feeling her emotions stagnate once again. She couldn't cry, or grieve, or feel happiness in this moment. All she could do was hug her mom tight, tighter, as she tried to convince her mother she wasn't a ghost.

Mom hugged her back, and she felt the weight of it come crashing down, as she felt the weight of those past two years in her mother's embrace when she cried into her, when she cried for her, when Mom's hug was painful, but that beautiful kind of painful Morticia was so glad to be feeling right now. She didn't care if this kind of thing hurt for the rest of her life, but she knew now that she was so glad to be here.

She heard the noise of the portal opening and closing outside as she and her mother hugged onto each other and cried for what felt like hours.


 

Only a few months had passed when Mom decided they should move. The old house had too many bad memories, but Morticia didn't dare complain about it. In the time she had been away, her mother informed her she and her dad actually got divorced, and he lived in some crappy apartment out in the city, but Morticia honestly wasn't too upset over that fact. If her parents' constant arguing when they were together was any indication a divorce was imminent, then it could only do them a bit of good to spend time apart.

Summer had left for college about a year ago, but was planning to visit with the knowledge that her sister had turned up out of the blue. With the whole moving to a new house, Mom was planning a party of sorts, to lighten up the mood, even though they downsized at a new house. It wasn't even out of the city, and once they showed up to the small little white house on the corner of the suburbs, Morticia felt a strange feeling wash over her as she and her mother moved in box after box.

It was a new neighborhood, new faces, but still the same old city. And even though the house was small, it was cozy. Morticia still got her own room, and her own bathroom she didn't have to share with anyone, unless guests came over.

Dad even showed up to help them move around boxes and set up furniture, and he stayed overnight a couple times, where they got to eat dinner at the table together. They both knew what had happened, save for Summer. Nobody wanted to burden her with that knowledge, but Morticia told her parents what happened and what had been happening the past two years.

They were horrified, to say the least.

She was worried her father would spring that 'told you so' bullshit to her mom about her father, but she was shocked when he held his tongue. He knew she didn't need that right now, and tried to keep things as normal as possible at the dinner table. And even though it was strange to think of her dad as not being there anymore, he was still within the city, where she could go visit him anytime. It wasn't like he was gone forever.

The house was set up nice, or at least it had furniture inside of it. The weekend Summer came back was the weekend things got loud again. It was just like old times, except in a new place, but that didn't stop Summer from falling all over her sister, hugging her, crying when she first set eyes on her, and getting emotional like she was prone to do.

Even though Morticia didn't get along with Summer all that great, it still warmed her inside to see her sister react in such a way to seeing her again. Like she really missed her. They even took the weekend to go hang out together, get ice cream, and walk around the mall as Summer talk about her college life.

School felt like such a lifelong ago Morticia had to worry about, that she wasn't sure how much longer she could put off not having to set foot in that high school again. At first, she didn't want to go back at all, wishing she could go into some private program somewhere to get herself caught up, but Mom insisted she go back, if not with some special course help, she could get herself caught up with extra help and still maintain a social life. She knew her mom was only worried about her making friends and getting her life back on track.

Morticia couldn't blame her for that.

The first day she stepped back into that place, with her books weighing her backpack down, she couldn't help but feel worried about people's reactions. It was a strange circumstance to go missing from school for two years, only to show back up randomly and get placed right back where she left off. She felt dumb, but that wasn't her fault.

And then there was Jessica.

She thought that of all people, Jessica would have forgotten she existed, but the moment she laid eyes on her, she ran over to her and hugged her on the spot. Morticia was taken aback, not sure how to react, but only knowing Jessica had held onto her tight and was mumbling things to her, asking her question after question, and she could do little but stand there and cry like an idiot in the middle of the hallway.

It wasn't the best decision, but her first day back, she skipped class so she could be alone with Jessica. They played hooky while hiding out in the girls' bathroom, locking the door so nobody would disturb them, and Morticia broke down crying to her. She didn't think she would ever see her again, but here she was, two years older, already beautiful before, but now even more so.

She apologized to her for everything. Morticia couldn't tell her the truth, she didn't think she was ready for that, but she gave her a half-assed version of it, only for Jessica to hold onto her and bring her close, telling her it was okay. She never blamed her for it and that she always knew something was wrong.

Time moved for her too. Life here hadn't forgotten about her. Morticia was ripped away from life here, but Jessica never forgot about her. Her parents never forgot about her. Nobody blamed her for what had happened to her, and life was different, and it was difficult, but she felt so comforted sitting there in Jessica's arms, being held by her, wanting to catch up with her so bad, wanting to hear all of Jessica's stories about the past two years. She wanted to hang out with her again, and get coffee, and go shopping. She wanted to be with her again, without the fear of being ripped away.

Morticia wanted to start rebuilding her life.


 

She got caught passing notes in class, but that was okay. It was just a sappy little note to Jessica that day that the teacher snatched from her hands before crumbling up and throwing in the trash. It was embarrassing, met with a few giggles from her classmates, but nothing Morticia couldn't handle.

When she and Jessica parted ways at the lockers that afternoon, Jessica gave her a cheeky smile before turning down the hall to leave. They had made plans earlier to go to a frozen yogurt place this weekend and Morticia couldn't think of anything she'd rather do than go get frozen yogurt with Jessica. Even if she had a ton of homework to catch up on, that could wait till after frozen yogurt.

The house was peaceful when she returned that day, flopping her backpack onto the floor and feeling the ache in the back of her spine and knees, but a strange scene took her by surprise when she came into the family room. Mom was seated on the couch with someone chatting over what appeared to be coffee, but knowing Mom, she had spiked her drink with something to give it some kick, but the face of their guest made Morticia start.

"Hey, hon." Morty gave her a wave, as he took a sip from his coffee and Mom whipped around to her before waving, if not being a little too zealous in the action.

"Hi, sweetie! You've got a visitor! He's--he's so handsome, by the way." Mom made a loud snorting laugh before slapping Morty on the shoulder, causing him to flinch and laugh awkwardly. "I can't believe you're my son in another universe. Like, that's so weird. You obviously didn't get your fashion sense from your mother."

Even from where she stood, Morticia could see blush coat his cheeks as he looked off to the side. "Y-you'd be surprised..." And another awkward laugh. Finally, he stood to his feet, setting his coffee down on the table and waved off to Mom before stepping over to Morticia. "Thanks for the latte. We'll be in Morticia's room."

Mom nodded, swaying a little as she took a swig from her glass.

Once Morticia grabbed her backpack again, she led the way down the hallway to where her room was and gestured for Morty to make his way in, which he did, and he made a small laugh at the sight of her room. It was a little messy, but it was the polar opposite of his room with his neon colors and ugly color scheme. Morticia's room was pretty plain, but that was okay. It matched her personality at least.

Morty settled down at her desk, being careful not to knock over the cans of soda that were starting to accumulate. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh at your room."

Morticia shook her head. "D-don't be, it's pretty lacking, I-I know." After setting her backpack down, she looked over at him and gave him a little smile. "It's good to see you."

"You too! How's life?"

She shrugged, settling down onto her bed. "It's moving, I guess." Her cheeks flushed as she thought about her plans for this weekend. "I-I'm going on a-a date with Jessica. G-gotta fuckton of homework to do a-after that though."

Morty scoffed. "Ugh, that's why I bailed on high school. No more homework. Just club life. You know, we had an alien come in the other night who got so drunk, he thought Rick was his wife and kept trying to come onto him. It was hilarious."

Morticia giggled. "Oh my god, really?"

"Yeah, you should've seen him. He was cussing and punching the guy left and right and the alien was just like, calling him darling and he was so drunk, he didn't even realize he was getting the shit kicked out of him."

Morticia giggled again, looking off to the side as she fiddled with the blanket on her bed, listening to Morty tell her stories about his life and what he did. It was so adventurous and exciting compared to what she did, which was go to school and stress about homework--but honestly, she would have much rather done that than do what he did. That kind of life just wasn't for her.

"Um..." She squeezed the blanket underneath her when Morty finished with another story and he perked up. It was awkward to say this now, but it was something she'd been wanting to say for the longest time, and never got the chance to. Things had been so hectic lately, and she didn't think to in the moment he first rescued her. "I-I meant to tell you." Her cheeks flushed red when she spoke, feeling awkward, and she wasn't sure how to say it without sounding embarrassing, but she just said it. "Th-thank you for wh-what you did. Wh-what you and your Rick did for me." She looked up into his eyes. "I-I don't know how to repay you. I-I thought...I thought I was going to die there."

Morty had given her her life back. He didn't have to go out of his way to look for her by any means, but he chose to do so. They both did. Neither of them had to waste time and energy going on a rescue mission just for her sake. They could have not thought about it, forgotten her measly existence, and let her rot on that planet.

But, they didn't.

She was here now, she was in a new house, living with her mom, slowly building her life back together because of them, and she wasn't sure how she could ever repay them. Never had she ever met a pair of people like them, with such an outlandish lifestyle, but also so willing to help her just because of that.

Sometimes she still had a hard time convincing herself this was real. It'd been several months now where she was waking up to both this new yet old life, trying to make it through the day and not remember the horrible times with him. That was never going away. Rick was gone, but yet he lingered around her in a way she was never going to forget.

But, that was okay. Sometimes it wasn't okay, but that was okay too.

Morty smiled at her, that soft, genuine smile. "You're welcome, hon." It might have been a strange thing to say, because Morticia was grateful, so grateful to be back home living with her mother, getting to visit her father, and seeing her sister on occasion, but she could smile now, even though those bad times. She could smile for this life she had, even if it wasn't perfect, it was her life.

Morticia was on top of the world.

End