Chapter Text
Rick pushed himself forward as he listened to the ragged gasps of breath from behind him. The man never got tired from running, as his body was made mostly from cybernetic augmentations, however the same couldn’t be said for his grandson.
“Rick,” Morty let out a sharp cough as his lungs grasped desperately for air, “Let’s just- let’s just go back t-to the ship…” his words were lengthy and drawled out, short breathes between each.
The teen reached a shaky hand towards his grandfather, making an attempt to grip his lab coat.
He’d only grazed it before Rick snapped his torso around and wrapped his lengthy fingers around Morty’s wrist, pulling him forward to run side by side.
The boy let out a lackluster yelp as he was abruptly tugged by the arm, but regained himself and matched his pace to the other. Morty could feel his legs quake from underneath him as he tried to steady his breathes.
“We can’t just abandon this adventure Morty, y-you’ve gotten way too used to doing that.”
Rick tried to yell over the commotion behind the two, his voice ragged and gruff.
There were multiple sets of footsteps pursuing them, however never once getting close enough to strike. The hot desert sun obstructed their view, beams of light glittering through the alien-like palm trees.
Morty groaned at Rick’s response.
His eyes moved from Rick to their foes, darting back and forth a few times before ultimately fixing on his grandfather. He opened his mouth to say something, however the words died on his tongue. There’s no way Rick would be able to hear him anyhow.
Morty nudged his hand sideways, pleading for the man to follow.
“Jesus- fuck, fine, we’ll go back.”
Morty couldn’t tell whether his tone was a result of the noise or his genuine annoyance, but he didn’t care enough to ask.
The two decidedly changed course, heading in the direction of Rick’s ship. The sharp turn let their pursuers gain traction, however the two quickened their pace in response. Morty ran ahead of the other, using the older one’s grip on his wrist as leverage to pull him forward. Rick was capable of moving faster, however still being upset at the teen’s insistence on leaving, he purposefully treaded behind.
Sand shifted under their heels, causing the act of escaping to prove difficult.
The creatures chasing them were adapted to such an environment, which made it easier for them to maneuver across the landscape.
Pure adrenaline pulsed through Morty’s veins as he spotted the distant vehicle. He felt his lips pull into a smile, a relieved chuckle sounding through them.
He pulled on his wrist with a bit more force, trying to alert the man of his findings.
Then, suddenly, Rick stopped.
Morty shot backwards, almost tumbling into his grandfather behind him. He craned his neck to look at the man, eyes wide with panic.
Rick had let go of his wrist, reaching into his coat to retrieve his gun.
The aliens had immediately noticed their halt. The hoard let out a collective howl as they dashed towards the pair.
“Rick we gotta go!” Morty grunted as he gripped the scientist’s sleeve, digging his heels into the yellow sand.
The foreign enemies were less than a yard away and quickly closing the distance with every second that passed.
He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let Rick get injured, not again.
Rick lifted his gun.
BANG, he shot one directly in the skull.
BANG, then another.
The task was simple and easy, nothing different from what they’d done before. Rick’s brow furrowed at the thought, his grandson was often dramatic, but this was a new low.
Morty ceased his tugging, however still clinging tightly to the scientist. The teen shook with more anxiety than fear, worriedly stepping beside his grandfather rather than behind him.
The two watched as a few smaller creatures scuffled away after seeing their allies die, probably adolescent of some sort.
There was a moment of silence between them. Hot, crisp air flew overhead, evenly distributing the particles of sand that it carried.
Morty opened his mouth to speak once again before Rick turned to face him.
He squeaked under the man’s cold and suspicious gaze. His half lidded eyes were glazed with aggravation, an expression that had become increasingly apparent to Morty throughout the years.
The teen fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as his eyes traced the laces of his shoes, not daring to look up at his grandfather.
“Let’s go.”
Morty felt Rick’s lengthy fingers grip his shirt collar and begin to drag him towards the ship. Morty didn’t resist the motion and submissively followed the man.
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“Morty, get the fuck out of my garage.” Rick swirled his chair around to face the boy. Morty sat anxiously on the countertop, watching Rick’s every move.
“What? Why? I-I’m just sitting here!” The teen spread his arms in emphasis.
“Exactly, you-you’re just staring at me. It’s creepy dawg.”
Morty rolled his eyes. It wasn’t necessarily false, but he didn’t want to admit that just yet.
The past hour consisted of Rick moving around the garage whilst Morty observed him, flinching or moving down from his spot on the counter each time the man messed up or tripped over himself, only returning to his seat once Rick confirmed he was fine.
“I’m not paranoid!” Morty quipped, shoulders tensing automatically at the suggested insult—that of which he’d only just now realized might’ve been an insult.
”Never said you were bud.” Rick fixed his attention back on his work, settling the welding mask over his eyes as protection. “Now, out.”
Muttering complaints under his breath, Morty hopped off from the bench and started for the door. As he reached his hand over the handle, however, he paused. Morty watched his grandfather work, hoping for a sign that the man wanted him to stay. When he got none, the boy slipped through the doorway and began to make his way into the kitchen.
He stood just outside of the garage for a moment, ear pressed against the door, listening to the electronic tinkering from within.
There was a sharp sound of static, followed by a muffled curse from the scientist inside.
Morty’s hand shot to the door knob. He held it there, listening, waiting for any sign of struggle. There was none, only the everlasting static and metal clinking.
The teen sighed to himself. He wasn’t paranoid, just… scared.
His breath shook as he finally turned away from the garage, padding to the fridge. The cool breeze from the appliance sent a shiver down his spine. Morty scanned the shelves for something to distract himself with, though, he told himself it was simply because he was hungry.
His eyes landed on a small orange can of soda. It was off brand, not one he’d seen before however definitely from earth. He held the can to his face, examining the package. He read the contents, running his eyes over the words over and over again.
He wondered briefly if Rick was still upset with him over their adventure earlier in the day. He’d made an effort to keep them both out of trouble, pushing Rick to escape instead of fighting their foes, it was easier than trying to protect the man during combat. Morty thought he’d been careful with their past few adventures, making subtle gestures to keep Rick from getting hurt. However, it was clear his grandfather had caught on.
Why wouldn’t he? It’s Rick we’re talking about.
Morty winced once again as a loud bang sounded from the garage. He was tempted to investigate, check if Rick was okay, make sure he wasn’t dead. The teen glanced towards the living room, then back at the garage, continuing the movement until he fully turned his body to face the living room’s entrance.
Gripping the soda, Morty made his way onto the couch, still listening for any sign of danger. The teen stared at the television before him, the dark screen reflecting his blank yet terrified expression.
Morty let out another sigh as he slouched into the sofa, letting the cushions swallow him whole.
He needed to relax.
Nothing would happen to Rick.
He wouldn’t let anything happen to Rick.
Rick could handle himself.
It was only one time.
If it bothers you so much, just do the same thing you did with him and the rest of them.
Erase the memory.
“Morty?”
He yelped, eyes darting around the room in search of the source.
“Why are you just staring at the tv?” Summer planted a hand on his shoulder, wincing as the boy flinched away from her touch.
He turned to face her; she lent over the back of the couch, looking down at him with more confusion than concern. Morty immediately relaxed when he noticed his sister.
“I-I just got distracted, uh, why?”
“Well this is the first time I’ve seen you by yourself for, like, two weeks.”
Oh, yeah. He hadn’t really thought of it that way.
He and Rick had been close lately, although it was mostly one sided. Morty had reverted back to following his grandfather like a lost puppy, albeit for different reasons this time around. He could tell Rick was beginning to grow annoyed at his actions, the teenager had been appearing as his ‘savior’ for over a week now, defending him during arguments, fighting his enemies even before the man requested him to do so. He’d even started to cut his grandfather’s food, which looking back at it, was really weird.
Morty sighed as Summer climbed over the back of the sofa, pushing herself up next to him.
“I’ve just been, y’know, nervous….”
“‘Bout what?”
“Rick. He-he can be dangerous, and, uh-“
“Since when do you care about what Rick does?” Her tone carried clear condescension, however her expression gave him the reassurance to continue.
”I don’t know… I-I just…” Morty had no response as he dragged a hand down his face, stopping in the center to pinch the bridge of his nose.
He did know. He knew exactly why he was acting this way, but he couldn’t tell Summer that. If he told her the true reason, she’d be horrified, and possibly tell Rick.
“Ok… are you actually going to watch something?” She gestured towards the blank television screen.
“Uh, yeah, h-here.” Morty leant over to retrieve the remote before passing it to his sister.
He watched as Summer flipped through the infinite amount of channels, although his view was mostly on the girl beside him rather than the tv. Morty smiled to himself as he took in the presence of his sister, she always knew how to make him feel better.
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No, god please he couldn’t lose him again. It wasn’t supposed to happen again. Morty was supposed to prevent it from happening again. It’s all his fault. He couldn’t stop it.
I’m so pathetic.
I just wanted to keep you safe.
I wasn’t strong enough.
Please, please don’t leave me again.
I’m nothing without you.
I need you.
”Rick…” He let out a choked sob, tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the blood coating his body. It wasn’t his blood, that’s what he feared most. “Please get-please get up Rick…” Morty gripped his grandfather’s sweater, holding the man close to himself. The embrace was stiff and cold, Rick’s body limp in his arms.
The boy didn’t bother to stifle his whimpers, no one was around to listen anyways.
The sharp gravel dug into his knees, splintering the skin and dripping blood onto the concrete. He didn’t care. The pain didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered, not if Rick wasn’t there to give it worth.
Morty buried his face in the scientist’s chest, pleading, begging him to wake up.
His throat burned from the crying, however he had no intention to stop.
The fire behind him radiated brightly, warming the two bodies. Rick still felt cold to the touch, the flames doing nothing to heat him.
Morty ran his fingers through the man’s hair, the spikes were torn and crispy, edges turned a dark brown.
”I-I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry grandpa…” He wished Rick was conscious enough to hear him say it, but nothing could reverse the damage done. “I love you.”
He’d failed.
He couldn’t save Rick, he never could. It was only a matter of time before it happened again.
Trying was worthless.
He was worthless.
Beth called out from the trees, and only then did the boy realize how close he was to the burning building.
Morty didn’t care, not this time.
He knew he couldn’t save him again.
His mother tried to rush to his side, only for his father to grab her forearm. Beth turned to him and enveloped the man in a deep hug, weeping into his shoulder as her son and father were consumed by the flames.
It didn’t hurt, not at all, not as he held Rick close and mirrored his mother.
He couldn’t hear among the crackles of the fire, but in the second before they obstructed his view, he watched his family walk away.
The teen shot up in his bed, desperately gasping for air.
He glanced around the room, however his vision was blurred from the tears coating his eyes. Morty blinked them away, wiping his wrist across his cheek as they fell. With the other hand, he felt around himself, clenching the sheets.
His breaths slowed as he acknowledged his condition.
It was a dream.
It was only a dream.
He felt beads of sweat make their way down his back, soaking into his mattress.
The boy lifted his knees towards his chest as he tucked his forehead upon them. His eyes met the space between his thin legs, a puddle of sweat darkened the color of his comforter.
Morty let out a lackluster chuckle at the sight.
Jesus, he really couldn’t catch a break.
He brought a hand to his hair, scratching at the damp curls. It was so unbearably hot.
Breathing deeply, humid air entered his nose, almost choking the teen. His room smelled like death. No, he smelled like death. Morty gagged before decidedly beginning to breathe through his mouth.
He turned his body to face his bedroom window, legs hanging off of the edge of his bed.
His stomach twisted as his mind drifted back to the reason for his sudden awakening; the nightmare.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had a dream containing his current stressor, but the effects of them never ceased no matter how many times he’d experienced it.
The situations were always different.
Once they were in a bar, another time on a beach. He couldn’t recall how Rick died each time, but the dreams always ended with him holding his grandfather’s lifeless corpse.
He blamed himself, there was no one else to blame. The guilt ate away at him from the inside.
Was this secret really worth keeping?
If he told them, they’d surely hate him for keeping it from them, for erasing the memory without consent.
If he hadn’t done it, they’d never be the same. Morty didn’t handle change very well.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he had to go check on Rick, just one more time before he could trust himself to go back to sleep.
His legs wobbled as the boy pushed himself into a standing position, palms threatening to slide off of the mattress and falter whilst supporting him. Luckily, he managed to take a small step forward, then another, and another. He padded his way towards his desk chair, pulling on a dirty yellow shirt he’d lazily thrown onto the seat.
Morty hoped Rick was in his room, preferably asleep so the man wouldn’t call him out for his strange behavior. Honestly, it’d be pretty hypocritical if he did, Rick was always barging into his room unannounced, so what’s the harm if he just checks in on him really quick? Just to make sure he’s safe…
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