Chapter Text
Morty’s brain had but one quality that he would consider positive. And it wasn’t the fact his brainwaves made a nice cloaking device for Rick. It was the fact that it could dissociate as soon as reality got too unpleasant. He killed a sentient lifeform? He’d be upset for a while, but will get over it in a few hours, after successful blocking the memory out of his brain. He nearly died? His brain would just call that another day of adventure.
He was naked, tied to the frames of Rick’s bed, while Rick prodded at his entrance with long fingers? He just stared at the ceiling and thought of a flower garden.
“Fuck, Morty….” The old man rasped. He reeked of alcohol, not that had anything to do with why he was doing this, “Even after all these years…still so tight…”
Morty grunted but said nothing else. It wasn’t like Rick would’ve listened anyway. He had learned that unfortunate fact long ago.
Rick peppered his thighs with kisses, trailing until he got to his dick, half hard from the pleasure it received. Morty still didn’t want any of this, but even his own body betrayed him these days. He almost suspected Rick did something to make him hard in the first place, like putting something in his food.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way Rick flicked his tongue at the tip. The way Rick then swallowed it in one gulp, expertly vibrating his throat to give Morty the full experience.
This was how it had been for years now. Morty had long since given up fighting him. Now 18 years old, he wondered what it would be like when he left? Would Rick be done with him? He was probably “too old” now. The thought produced a half bitter smile on his face.
He came without giving it too much thought. He thanked his brain for protecting itself yet again. Rick then moved over so that he was lying right next to him. He took Morty in his arms and held him close. For someone so aloof at times, Rick could be a real cuddler after sex.
“Morty….I’m getting old.”
Though Morty said nothing, his curiosity was peaked. He turned to Rick, who gave him a sad smile. The man had been given him genuine smiles ever since Morty had stopped fighting him.
Rick brushed Morty’s curl out of his eyes. It was getting long, “I’m going to die soon.”
Morty froze up. Truthfully, he had been expecting that at some point too. He had even been counting on it (and he hated himself for that). But it was a shock to hear it said outright. Rick’s words delivered a blow to his gut and he didn’t know how to react.
Rick waited for a response. When all he got was stunned silence, he continued, “I could clone another young body for me, you know? Could do it again and again, every time I get too old. Could do the same for you too, Morty. We could be immortal. Together forever. Would you like that?”
No.
The very idea clawed at his heart and dragged it down to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t do this forever. He couldn’t pretend everything was alright forever.
He couldn’t let himself be raped forever.
Morty didn’t realize he was crying until Rick began wiping his tears away with his thumb. The scientist didn’t look angry, but instead concerned.
“I know….you’re right, Morty. The human mind isn’t meant to go on forever. We’d lose our sanity after a few hundred years.”
A tiny glimmer of hope crossed Morty’s eyes, “So, you’re not going to do it?”
“No, Morty. I’m not. Guess you can say….we’ll have to say goodbye soon.”
Morty hated the relief that passed through his entire body. The weight of the entire universe lifted off his shoulders as soon as Rick confirmed he would die naturally. In just a few years, Morty would finally be free.
God, he was a terrible person, right? Even if Rick had been raping him, how could he be so eager for his own grandfather’s death? Morty tiled his head down as shame, guilt and joy swirled inside him.
Rick kissed his forehead, the sweetest gesture he ever done for him.
“I’ll miss you, Morty.”
“You too, Rick. I’ll miss you too,” Morty’s sobs became uncontrollable. The tears came pouring down like a faucet. All at once, the relief hit him, causing him to have a meltdown in front of Rick.
Rick smiled, no doubt thinking the tears were meant for him. That Morty was sad to see him go.
“Hey, little buddy,” he whispered, “Don’t you believe in ‘true love’ and all that hoo-ha?”
“W—what?” Morty wiped his eyes. Where was Rick going with this?
“You love me, don’t you? You always tell me that.”
He did, but only because he was afraid of what Rick would do if he didn’t. Trembling, Morty managed to nod his head.
Rick said, “Yeah…you believe in all that pansy shit. It’s cute, dawg. You believe that true love always finds a way, right? So, believe this,” and then he leaned in close to Morty’s ear and breathed on it, “I’ll come back.”
Morty stilled, confusion and horror on his face. Rick took no mind of the fear in his eyes. He tended to ignore any sign that suggested Morty didn’t return his feelings. He made himself believe that Morty wanted this as much as he did.
“You can’t cure death,” Morty said more to himself than to Rick. He wanted to reassure himself, “You said it yourself. So how would you….do that?”
“Just believe in true love like you normally do, you little Romeo,” chuckling, Rick rubbed his fingers in Morty’s hair, petting him fondly.
28-year-old Morty had been free from Rick for a glorious five years. The horrible memories never left him, but if he closed his mind just tight enough, he could almost forget. He felt like he was recovering: slowly but surely.
He even found someone special to be with. Amy. They had married and became pregnant with their first child.
That was why Morty sat in the waiting room, nervously tapping his knee. The tv showed an old western movie that some elders were enjoying next to him.
He stood up as soon as he saw the doctor coming toward him. The middle-aged woman gave him a solemn stare, her sad voice making him nervous.
“Please come with me, Mr. Smith.”
“What’s wrong…?” Morty asked as he followed her. The woman sighed, before turning to look at him, shame evident on her face.
“Your wife didn’t make it.”
Morty heard her words. But he couldn’t register them. He only stood, dumbfounded, while the doctor waited for him to collect himself.
“She….” Ever so gradually, it clicked, “She’s gone?”
“I am truly sorry, Mr. Smith.”
“Oh god…..”
“The birthing went smoothly at first. But then we ran into unexpected complications. We saved your son, but your wife….”
“I….” Morty leaned his back against the wall. He covered his face with his hands and took in a deep, shaky breath. Amy had been his best friend. Ever since Rick’s death, Amy was there to make him feel a little less lonely. Rick had treated her like trash since his dying day, but Amy never held a grudge against him.
She had acted like an angel her whole life. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to die like this, especially without ever seeing her child.
You killed her, Morty’s irrational thoughts came at him at full force, You made her pregnant and she died in childbirth.
He refused to let those thoughts inside his head for long. No, Amy had been so happy when she found out she was pregnant. And she had loved Morty dearly, just like he loved her. She wouldn’t want him to blame himself.
She would want him to hold their son. To give him the best life possible.
Morty steadied himself.
“I want to see my son.”
The first time Morty saw the baby, he couldn’t believe his eyes. His son had been blessed with a full head of hair. Light-blue hair. The baby looked at Morty with wide eyes, his beady blue eyes inspecting him closely. It didn’t look like a normal expression a newborn would have.
Morty took him in his hands. He could feel his own shaking as he held the boy in his arms. This baby was the last memory of Amy that Morty would ever have. But Morty knew he shouldn’t be feeling sorry for himself. The poor kid would have to grow up without ever knowing his mother.
Morty vowed to do his best to raise him right. He would be two parents in one, so that the kid would never feel alone.
“What would you like to name him?” asked one of the nurses. It snapped him out of his daze.
He thought for a moment. Morty’s dad had been pestering him with not-so-subtle hints to name him Jerry. But naming your son after your father….that would feel weird. Of course, he didn’t like the thought of hurting his dad’s feelings either. Jerry was good at making him feel guilty.
Morty thought of a name that would make the most sense. It wouldn’t be Jerry, but if his dad asked, Morty could make the excuse that his name inspired the one that Morty chose.
“Tom,” he said, “Tom Smith.
It was incredible. In just six months of age, Tom learned the word ‘Daddy.’ By one year old, he could form simple sentences. Three months later and he was speaking fluent English, asking Morty all kinds of questions about the world.
“Daddy, what’s that? And that? And that over there? And that!” he would point at any object that piqued his interest. And Morty was all too happy to teach him. He only had to teach Tom the word once, and Tom remembered it forever.
Morty thanked his lucky stars that his son didn’t end up with his learning disability. Somehow, Tom got his grandma’s intelligence.
But Morty didn’t know the full extent of his genius until Tom was three.
“Dad!” Tom said. He had stopped calling him ‘Daddy’ a while ago, “Look what I made!”
Morty looked from his phone, expecting to see a drawing or something made from paper. But he froze when he saw what was in Tom’s hands.
Using a thimble, scrap metal and rubber bands, Tom had created a robot. It was even walking around on its own two feet, without Tom moving it! Morty hadn’t seen anything like that in years. He stared at the object with wide eyes, mouth agape.
Tom paused, “Don’t you like it? I think it’s cool.”
“Tom, it’s amazing. It’s just like Rick.”
“Rick…..” Tom looked at him, “Who’s that?”
“Um…your grandma’s dad. He’s not around anymore, but he was the best scientist in the world,” and my rapist since I was 14.
“Where did he go?”
To hell, I hope. I hope he’s burning there right now, getting raped and not enjoying it and being forced to pretend that he is and---
“He died and went to heaven, son.”
“Oh,” but there was a hint of doubt in Tom’s voice. He couldn’t already be questioning the existence of heaven, was he? Then again, he did just create a robot.
Morty realized that his son was probably going up to have the same level of genius that his grandfather had. Knowing that, Morty knew he had to make sure to nurture it. While at the same time, he wanted to keep Tom from being as cynical as Rick used to be.
The upcoming years were going to be a lot of work.
The passing years became intense. Morty didn’t know when he lost control of his son, but Tom had become a force to be reckoned with. He created a spaceship and flew away to far off planets. Morty tried to stop him, knowing full well how dangerous that could be. But Tom would not be swayed. And no amount of begging, arguing and threatening could stop him.
Morty couldn’t lock him in his own room. Tom could easily get through that too. All Morty could do was pray that Tom made it back safely from his adventures.
When he heard the spaceship parking outside, Morty released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Tom came in, gulping down a strange soda that couldn’t have possibly been from earth. Where he was getting the intergalactic currency, Morty had no idea. By now, the boy looked just like a mini Rick, a fact that Morty refused to acknowledge too much.
“Tom! Do you know what time it is?” Morty demanded loudly, crossing his arms with a stern look in his eyes. It used to do the trick. It used to scare Tom. Now Tom barely acknowledged it.
Tom belched without excusing himself, “Gee, Dad. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
Why did his rebellious teenage phase have to start at age 10? Morty’s glare grew more intense.
“Look. I’m already letting you go on adventures even though it gives me a heart attack every time you do it. The least you can do is come home at a reasonable hour.”
Tom belched again, then dropped his can on the floor. Before Morty could get onto him, Tom zapped the can with his laser can, until nothing but dust remained.
“It’s not like I have school tomorrow, Dad. I graduated already. So, what gives? Why do you care when I’m home by?”
“You need your sleep.”
Tom made a pfft noise and rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms defensively, “The average human wastes a third of their life sleeping. Do you realize how far societies would be right now if we didn’t need that bullshit? I’m in the process of making a drug, you know? Still working on all the deets, but as soon as it’s finished, I’ll never need to sleep again.”
This was going too far. Tom was talking about creating drugs and using them on himself with complete indifference. Didn’t the child realize how dangerous that could be? This is where Morty had to put his foot down.
“You are NOT injecting yourself with strange chemicals, young man.”
“You know I’ve been doing that for the past year, right?”
Morty’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Tom laughed, disdain in his eyes.
“Yeah…bet you didn’t know that about me, Dad. Bet you thought I would’ve gone to a bunch of strange planets without taking the proper vaccinations. Really, it never occurred to you that there would’ve been alien illnesses I needed to avoid? Face facts, Dad. You’re a dumbass. And I don’t need you.”
Crash. That was the sound of Morty’s heart breaking to pieces. He could only look at his son in hurt, wishing to have that bond he had with him when Tom was a baby. When Tom still looked up to him. What wonderful, short years those had been.
For a moment -the slightest moment- Tom appeared remorseful. But any guilt on his face was gone in an instant. He shook his head, mumbling how embarrassed he was to have a stupid dad, and walked away.
A year later, Tom had pretty much made a habit of adventuring full time. Morty never knew when he would see him next. There were times when he would go an entire week without seeing him.
Sometimes Morty found Tom lying in his bed, fast asleep. It was the only time Morty got to kiss him goodnight, as he pulled the covers over his tired son. At least Tom never followed through with that insomnia drug he had talked about.
Tom brought home money too. A lot of money. He had been selling priceless materials he found on other planets to the US government. Tom was so proud of himself that he wanted to provide for the family. He told Morty that he didn’t need a job anymore. Tom was shocked when Morty declined. He seriously thought Morty would just let himself be holed up at home, letting Tom bring all the bacon, as if Morty was little more than a pet dog.
Morty may not have needed his job at the convenience store, but it kept him from going insane. Staying busy was the only thing keeping his mind from worrying about his son. As a matter of fact, he spent more time working now than ever before.
When he clocked out at 9 am, he realized that he had worked a triple shift. As he was getting himself some coffee from a nearby café, another patron looked over his shoulder.
“I got to start watching my caffeine intake,” he said.
“Pardon?” Morty inspected the man behind him. He was about his age, with a sweater and scarf. That, combined with his glasses, made Morty think of ‘hipster’ when he saw him.
The man smiled, “Because you make my heart palpitate.”
Morty couldn’t believe his ears. Did someone just throw a pick-up line his way? He never thought that would ever happen to him again. Morty smiled, his face burning with pleasure.
“Wow. Didn’t think someone would come onto an old guy like me.”
The man smiled back, “What? I could’ve sworn you were 20.”
“I could swear you’re full of shit.”
They laughed. With a twinkle in his eye, the man took out his hand. Morty shook it.
“Name’s Alan.”
“Morty Smith.”
“Morty, eh? You don’t hear that name too often.”
“Believe me. There are a lot more Mortys than you know,” he chuckled at his inside joke. He grabbed his coffee and let the man through so he could order. When Alan was done, he turned back to him.
“So how come I haven’t seen you here before?”
“Don’t normally come here,” Morty answered, “I usually get coffee at home.”
“What changed your mind? If you don’t mind me asking, I wanna know who or what to thank for getting to see your handsome face.”
Morty was quickly falling for his charms, “Then thank my overtime. I was falling asleep at the wheel. I didn’t think I could make it.”
Alan’s smile turned tight, as if he registered it was a joke, but he was still concerned.
“Oh. Glad you didn’t. You work overtime a lot?”
“Yeah….I’m a single dad, so I’m used to it,” Morty shrugged. He figured if this man was getting any ideas, he might as well tell him about Tom straight out of the gate.
Alan’s eyes lit up. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, giving Morty a nod.
“Got kids, huh?”
“Just one. An 11-year-old son.”
“I’m good with kids,” Alan said, then after a beat added, “I mean….I don’t have any myself. But I got a niece. She’s a sweet thing. I babysit her from time to time, mostly when my brother has to do some business traveling.”
The conversation dropped a bit awkwardly after that. The two stared at each other, a little uncomfortable. Both wanting to continue but not knowing the next topic for their small talk.
“So….” Morty said finally, “I guess you’re a regular here, huh?”
“Oh, I love this place. I’m kind of a coffee addict. Plus, this café is close by the pest pizzeria in town. You’ve been there?”
“No. I’ve seen it on the way over, but it looked like just an ordinary small business.”
“Oh, you haven’t lived if you hadn’t eaten their goat cheese, pine seed and arugula pizza. You should go sometime. I’d even treat you to the first one. It will get you hooked.”
Morty suppressed the urge to chuckle. This guy was like hipster incarnate, just like Amy had been. She would chew Morty’s ear off during movies about the artistic expression the director used for each shot. The slightest tilt of an angle made all the difference in the world, she once said.
He wondered if Alan liked to dissect movies as much as she had. He then wondered if Alan liked heist movies, and Morty’s mind was transported back years ago when he wrote a script, only to decide his dreams weren’t worth it. What had made him lose his passion so suddenly, he would never know.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Well….” Alan fumbled a bit. Then he straightened himself back with renewed confidence, “Yes.”
“I’d love to go out with you.”
Morty hadn’t look himself in the mirror this often since the first time he had dated Amy. He kept on changing his outfit, giving himself a rating out of ten, before doing it all over again. It took a full hour of him messing around before he decided on a simple yellow shirt and blue jeans.
Familiar, but comfortable. Simple, but it suited him so well. Morty decided to bring out his special cologne and dab a little on his neck.
“Dad? Dad!” Tom’s voice made it clear that he needed help. Right now.
Morty went full on paper bear mode. He nearly dropped the bottle of cologne in his haste to see what the matter was. He had been prepared when he saw a slug monster wriggling in Tom’s arms, while Tom tried to hold it down. There was a cage next to Tom. But the slug’s struggles were making it impossible for Tom to put him in there.
“Oh, shit!” Morty exclaimed. He grabbed hold of the thrashing head.
“Careful, Dad. It has sharp teeth.”
The slug nipped at Morty’s side, but he managed to dodge it. Morty’s terrified screams echoed the walls, along with the slug’s constant roaring. Tom made no noise aside from the occasional grunt of frustration.
“Grab onto its antenna and yank, Dad.”
For a horrible second, Morty was transported back in time. This was all just like what he and Rick used to do. Morty would be screaming, terror filling him up, while Rick remained in command as he impatiently told him what to do. He never had any compassion for how scared Morty was.
Morty obeyed Tom without question, just like with Rick. Once he yanked, the slug slumped over until it was dead still. Tom smiled. He put the thing inside the cage and closed it shut.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll grind this fucker up for some hardcore medicine later. You had just helped me get rid of hangnails forever. Thanks.”
“Tom, what the FUCK was that? You can’t bring home a damn alien into my house.”
Tom stood up, giving him a knowing smirk. God, that look….Just like Rick. Morty felt like he didn’t even know him anymore.
Just how Rick-like was he going to get? Morty shuddered to think.
“Dad, I’ve been paying the mortgage for a year now. I think can call this house ‘mine’ too.”
“No, you haven’t. I have.”
“Oh yeah….your autopay….Bet you didn’t notice it’s been discontinued. Really, for a grown man, you suck at keeping track of your money.”
Morty paused, “Discontinued?”
“I did that for your birthday gift. But you never noticed. It sucks that I try to be nice and you just. Don’t. Appreciate. It.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you appreciate what I do?” Tom sounded a little more hurt than he probably had intended.
“No. I mean why would you do that? You’re 11. It’s not your job to pay for a home. It’s mine.”
“Don’t mean to emasculate you or anything, Dad. But I’ve made more in a year than you ever have in your life. I don’t even miss it.”
He was trying to prove something. But what that something was, Morty had not the foggiest idea. Tom stared at him, just waiting for another round of argument. Or perhaps, he was waiting for Morty’s heart to break and for Morty to cry right in front of him.
No. Morty would NOT be like his own dad. He would not depend on his son for his emotional needs. He kept his cool, not showing Tom even the tiniest glimpse of weakness on his face.
“You shouldn’t do that. I’m your dad. You need to hold onto the money you make yourself and let me take care of you. It’s not supposed to be the other way around. I know you make more money than me. And I’m proud of you. But it’s my job to support you, ok?”
“Dad. It’s fucking stupid to waste your money just to make yourself feel useful—”
“I’m not telling you this to make me feel useful. I’m telling you this to make you feel supported. And loved.”
“Oh my god. Gag,” Tom’s bitter response didn’t faze Morty. He wouldn’t let his son’s cruel words and actions get a rise out of him. As the adult, Morty needed to take it with grace. It was for Tom’s own good.
“Believe it or not, Tom. You’re not alone. You never were. I’m always here if you need something,” he looked straight at Tom, hoping if he couldn’t reach him with his words, he could reach him by showing the sincerity in his eyes.
Tom kept his gaze downcast. He mumbled incoherently under his breath. Morty didn’t catch most of it, but he could make out ‘stupid’ and ‘fucking bullshit.’
It was Tom’s way of melting down. He would get upset, mumble and then hide away for a long time. It looked like Tom decided to head to his room to sulk. Morty was happy that at least he wouldn’t be galaxies away on another planet while he cooled down.
But as Tom started to walk past Morty to head upstairs, he stopped short. Tom sniffed at the air, turning back to his father in confusion.
“Is that cologne?”
Oh right. Morty inspected the slime that covered his shirt and pants. He would have to change before meeting Alan.
“Yeah. I have a date.”
“You what?”
Never before had Morty heard such anger seeping from Tom’s voice. A type of mature anger that he didn’t think was possible in an 11-year-old boy. The tone wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. Not heated nor icy, but poisonous. The way his pupils dilated was like a crazy man about to go on a murderous rampage.
If the expression had been on any other face, Morty would’ve felt in danger. But instead of being scared for his own life, Morty was horrified with the changes in Tom. What was going on with his son?
Tom stared at him in silence, his unibrow crunched up in a tight angry v. He wasn’t asking Morty for answers like he did when he was a toddler. He was demanding answers. Despite his earlier conviction not to appear weak, Morty suddenly felt very small.
“I met a guy after I got off work the other day. He’s real nice, you’d love him. And he’s funny too. And it’s not anything serious. He just offered to take me out for pizza and I thought it would be nice to mingle again. It’s what adults do, Tom.”
This didn’t satisfy Tom at all. If anything, his stare only twisted in intensifying rage. The last time Tom threw a massive temper tantrum, he nearly blew up the city block with one of his lasers. Morty realized that his son might work himself up to another outburst with deadly consequences.
He thought about why Tom might be angry. Then Morty kicked himself for being so thoughtless. Amy! Of course. Although Tom had never met his mother, no child wanted to feel like one parent was being traded for another. Morty flashed Tom a guilty look.
“Tom…..No one is replacing your mother…”
A strange look crossed Tom’s face – something between confusion and annoyance. Morty didn’t know what to make of that.
“I mean it, Tom. I’m not going to ever forget her just because I’m dating someone else. I loved her with all my heart, Tom. She was the best woman—”
“You’re not going.”
“Eh….excuse me?” the guilt Morty had felt was now quickly evaporating. Tom continued to try and stare him down with his dark look. Morty couldn’t believe the gall of his son, “Who I date is my choice, Tom.”
“You’re really going to just drop this on me, huh? I lived my entire life without a mom and now you’re going to pretend she didn’t exist.”
At first, Morty thought Tom was being genuine. But there was something awfully familiar about the way Tom said it. The way his eyes didn’t blink as he spoke. The way he seemed to tilt his lips in a disapproving frown. The way he sounded too hurt to be believable.
Morty had the horrible suspicion that Tom was trying to manipulate him. That Tom was only using his own mother’s death as a way to get Morty to doing what he wanted.
It was horrible. And it was so Rick. The more Morty looked into Tom’s heated eyes, trying too hard to convince Morty that he was about to cry, the more he recognized the same tactics that Rick had once used on him.
Morty was going to be sick.
“Don’t walk out that door, Dad!” Tom barked. Morty didn’t listen. He headed straight for the front door. For once in his life, he wanted to be away from his son.
He heard the clicking of a button behind him and suddenly the walls transformed into a barricade of steel. The door become trapped behind it. Morty had no way out of the house.
He shot his son his most assertive glare. Tom had never told him that he installed this in the house, but somehow Morty wasn’t surprised that he did. What Morty was more concerned was the fact that Tom was using it to stop Morty from dating. Not for any life-or-death emergency, but because he wanted to keep Morty from socializing.
He wanted to keep Morty trapped.
Morty hissed at Tom, “You have three seconds to let me out.”
“Oh boy,” Tom grinned. His amusement didn’t replace any of his anger, “Going to count down like you did when I was 4? Go ahead, Dad. Count. Can’t wait to see what you’ll do when you’re done.”
“One—” Morty paused, waiting for Tom to back down. Tom yawned and stretched his arms, “Two….” A pause that lasted a long time. Tom chuckled when Morty exposed himself. There was nothing Morty could do to him. And now he had made that clearer than ever.
“Let me go!” Morty demanded once the counting didn’t work.
Tom burped out loud, “Look. If you’re done trying to scare me, I’ll head upstairs. Need to repair a few things.”
He turned around, planning on leaving it at that. Morty couldn’t just let him walk away. Tom would probably not let him out until the next day, well after his scheduled date.
A flash of memory struck through Morty. Being trapped inside the house was just like the time that the parasites took over. Rick had pressed a button on some watch looking device. It was hidden because his wrist had been covered up by his long sleeve lab coat.
Just like the one Tom wore these days.
Tom cried out in shock when Morty grabbed his wrist. Morty yanked away the cuff, exposing exactly what he thought he’d find. The ‘watch’ had two red buttons, only one of them was pushed in. Morty figured that pushing the other would set him free.
But Tom saw where Morty’s mind was going. He pushed back against his father, struggling in his grasp. He certainly wasn’t stronger than Morty, but he was nimble and hard to keep down. Tom raised his leg and pressed against the other ankle. Clearly there was some sort of button hidden there too. From the ankle sprung out four long mechanical arms. They had all the strength that Tom’s body lacked, able to trap Morty against the wall, effectively pinning him down by his arms and legs.
Tom paused. Now that he trapped his father, he needed to figure out what to do with him. Morty’s weak struggles were no match against the steel claws squeezing painfully in their grip.
“Let me go,” Morty demanded again.
Tom said nothing. He approached closer, perhaps to whisper a threat in his father’s ear. But as he closed the distance between them, Morty could see the way Tom’s eyes trailed to his lips, looking oddly fascinated with them. Confused, Morty waited for his son to say something.
Then all at once, Tom threw himself on top of him, crashing their lips together. At first, Morty’s mind short-circuited. He saw it happening – felt it happening. But he wasn’t registering exactly ‘what’ was happening.
Tom used Morty’s frozen shock to his advantage. He kissed harder, nearly taking the air out of Morty’s lungs. The kiss was sloppy, inexperienced and Tom had to pull away once or twice to take a gulp of fresh air. But what the kiss lacked in prowess, it made up for in passion.
He was kissing him…..He was kissing him on the lips…Like a lover would do. Not like a son.
Or like Rick would do.
Morty snapped out of his trance. As soon as the paralysis left, horror overtook him. He tried to push away with his head, the only thing he could move at the moment. But Tom grabbed both sides and shoved his head in place. The kiss muffled Morty’s screams, as well as his protests. Now Morty’s eyes spilled with tears. But still, Tom didn’t stop.
Just like Rick Just like Rick Just like Rick Just like Rick
All at once, Morty stopped struggling. And this, of all things, was what snapped Tom out of it. He pulled away to look at his dad, confused at the reaction. Still crying, Morty refused to meet his eye, keeping very still and quiet. He let his whole body shut down until he was nothing more than a ragdoll.
It was dissociation all over again. Only this time, his own son was the one to activate it. The boy who Morty had changed his diapers. The boy who Morty had fed with a bib and highchair. The boy who Morty had taught A,B,C’s. The boy who Morty had raised since birth. Despite looking just like Rick, Morty never saw Tom as anything but a naïve, innocent little kid.
Until now…
“Dad?” Tom’s voice sounded so unsure. It was just like when he was a kid and thought he was in trouble, “Dad? You’re spacing out in like…a scary way. Don’t shut down on me.”
He was scared. Morty’s limp form must’ve had a profound effect on him. The metal claws retreated back to wherever they came from. Even though he was free, Morty’s body didn’t spring back to life. He let himself fall onto the floor, sitting down pathetically at his son’s feet.
Seeing this, Tom realized how badly he messed up. Horror and regret etched his features. He shook his head, trying to figure out how to fix his mentally broken dad. But for once, his brain failed him. Tom rushed into his room, leaving Morty sobbing by himself. The barricade was still left standing.