Chapter Text
Morty was sitting on the couch, munching on tasteless cereal and watching TV with a slight ringing in his ears. It was practically a copy paste of last morning, from the same clothes he was wearing down to the cold in his body, but somewhat, Morty felt as if finally he could focus a bit again. Not much, he still didn’t even want to think about Beth in the kitchen or Jerry somewhere in the house, but he could muster enough energy to ignore the fuzziness in his head.
He felt awful, with a headache and grinding bones and a guilty conscience, but at the same time lighter, not like he was being crushed under the weight of being just himself.
“Last night there was a major spike in the phenomenon cases,” the same news lady’s voice as yesterday pierced his thoughts and Morty focused on her cheerful face. The smile looked forced. Was she finally feeling the dread of the whole disaster or was he too tired and out of it to notice yesterday?
“Governments around the world are urging people to remain calm. Experts would like to assert the importance of not going anywhere alone and to have at least one additional person besides themselves at all times, especially during dangerous activities, such as driving or injury-prone work. All essential services are working extended hours and –“
Dread churned in his stomach, mixing with the already there cereal to a cocktail of nausea. His poor and overworked heart picked up its pace. More people? What did that mean? How many… What if he froze? His mind flashed to an image of Rick, still and unable to move or react. What if Rick did? Then… Then they all would be doomed.
Morty needed to find Rick.
As if answering his thoughts, Morty heard a crash from further down the house. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the kitchen, dizzy from the sudden activity but resolute to not miss his grandpa. When he finally noticed Rick, he froze in his spot.
Rick was leaning into the sink, his left hand thrust under water from the tap. Pink water flowed down the drain. When Rick heard him approaching, he turned and Morty finally got a look at his face after who knows how many days wandering around mindlessly or lost to sleep.
He looked haggard. His whole complexion was washed-out pale and deep dark bags underlined his eyes. Rick was hunched over, as if the weight of just existing was too much for him at that moment. His blue eyes were slightly glassy but still firmly fixated on him. The only sound that could be heard was from water continuing to rush down the drain.
Morty felt unable to move. Was he frozen like the rest of them? Rick just continued in his unnatural stillness. Was Rick?
“Rick…” A voice whispered in the room, loud in the silence. Oh, wait, that was Morty’s voice. “Rick, y-you’re bleeding.”
His voice broke the moment and Rick inhaled as if life itself came back to him. He turned back to the sink.
“It’s just a cu-cut, Morty. Nothing serious,” Rick’s voice was gruff and heavy, as if not used in months.
Morty inched closer to stand next to his side. “Oh…”
Silence fell over them again. Morty firmly kept his eyes on Rick’s bleeding hand under the tap and watched as the water running down the wound slowly cleared. Tenseness from Rick bled into the space between them and Morty felt as if it would eat him from the inside out if he wasn’t drained out enough for there to be nothing to eat. The water continued running and Morty inhaled a shaky breath. He knew he couldn’t think about… that, for now. They had more pressing matters to talk about and it didn’t seem like Rick would be the one to break the stillness, so that left Morty.
“H-How,” his voice broke and he cleared his throat, “how a-are things going, R-Rick?”
“It’s b-bad, Morty,” Rick spoke quietly, “By my calculations, more than half of Earth’s population are fro-frozen popsicles waiting for whoever is doing this to eat them. S-Somehow, the rate picked up last night.”
“Y-yeah, I heard just n-now from the news.” Neither of them moved.
“We don’t have much time. I… I might be able to get s-something that’s general enough to fuck the shit th-that’s doing this up, but…” Rick fell silent and Morty waited for him to pick up. He wondered if he would, but after a few more moments, Morty could hear Rick deeply inhaling next to him. “I-I need you to come with me, ah… just another no-normal adventure, Morty, n-nothing serious, dawg.”
The forced normalcy in Rick’s tone cut the room like a bad-mannered baboon in a five-star restaurant and Morty forced himself not to cringe away. Was Rick’s pause earlier because he dreaded Morty going with him? Dreaded being in the same space as his sick grandson for any sort of extended period of time? It cut into him, these thoughts, festering upon what calmness he could force his mind into. Of course Rick did, anyone would. Morty pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, to be analyzed later, preferably under the cover of darkness where he could afford himself to break down once more. Maybe even to try to glue the few pieces of himself he could.
He couldn’t dwell on what happened in the ship right now. Morty had to forget about it all right now and wear the mask of a well-adjusted – not sick, not sick – grandson, just on another adventure with his Rick.
He forced his hands to move to shut down the tap. Every inch closer ate at his energy like he was fighting or running for his life rather than just existing. Or kissing Ri—. Stop it!
He shut down the tap and grabbed at Rick’s hand to examine the wound. The moment he had Rick in his hands – maybe he should find a plaster for the wound – Rick flinched full-body away from him, ripping the hand he was holding as if acid had dripped down on the skin where they touched.
The ringing in his ears intensified and Morty felt as if he was standing on the edge of a void, just one step away from falling into despair. It hurt, oh god, it felt as if his whole body was being crushed and he tried his best not to curl into himself, fall to the floor and just weep. He shoved it all away, later, later. Now he had to act normal. He turned to look at Rick and kept his gaze somewhere beyond Rick’s shoulder. If he looked into Rick’s face and saw the disgust that was in his eyes, nothing could prevent him from crumbling.
He forced cheerfulness into his voice. “S-Sure, R-Rick! I’ll help y-you with a-anything you n-need to g-get this a-alien thing you m-mentioned.” He felt like vomiting.
Rick turned to walk to the garage and Morty stumbled after him on legs that didn’t feel his. His head was buzzing and the world around him wavered in and out of focus dangerously often. A mist descended over his eyes, but then Morty took a breath and realized it was the garage that was filled with smoke, not him. Or at least, not only him.
The room stank of cigarette smoke and waves of it lazily swam along the ceiling. The floor was littered with broken glass, some oozing various liquids, and random tools. Over the stink of cigarettes, the stench of alcohol was almost undetectable. Morty stopped at the edge of the room, noting somewhere that walking further he could accidentally cut up his sock-clad feet.
“I-I did some digging around, but th-there’s not enough time to look for anything specific.” Rick fell into the chair next to his desk and grabbed the one bottle – whiskey probably – still standing upright on his desk. Several seconds passed before he removed the now empty bottle from his lips with a deep burp and carelessly threw it over his shoulder. It was a miracle it didn’t break when met with the harsh concrete and just harmlessly rolled away. “W-With the spike from last night, I-I need something s-strong and general e-enough that it wouldn’t matter wh-what kind of sh-shit we’re dealing with. Th-there’s a connection I have with a dipshit that-that should get me the parts I need.”
“O-Okay, Rick, l-let me j-just get my shoes.” Morty fled the garage before he fell down crying. His breathing was shallow all the way to his room and an annoying buzzing started under his skin. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to deal with this. Morty tightened his fists, feeling the sweet sting of nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He knew meeting Rick again would be bad, but knowing Rick couldn’t stomach being near him without some liquid courage tore into him, leaving bleeding gashes never to be healed again.
He just had to act normal, that’s it. The ship… That would never ever happen again. Morty was normal, he was normal, he was normal, act… normal. Throwing himself out of the window never felt more tempting than then.
The thrumming of the engine filled the ship’s space. Morty sat in his customary seat, a temptation to open the ship’s door and killing himself with the vacuum of the universe around them licking at the corners of his mind, which he resolutely ignored. It felt weird being so close to Rick again and he felt hyper-conscious of the man next to him even though he tried his best to ignore it.
If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the Before. Just another adventure, normal yet fantastical, with Rick by his side either grinning in anticipation or smiling in self-satisfaction of getting what he wanted. Those quiet moments in the ship were one of the most precious to Morty, in comfortable silence that enveloped him like a warm blanket yet could easily be broken anytime with an easy joke from Rick or a question from Morty. Slowly, as he was lost in that imaginary moment, the lull of the ship settled his nerves. The sound of Rick shuffling in his seat broke his concentration, but the found crumb of calmness didn’t leave him.
He turned to look at Rick, a slight smile curling his lips. Now that he could finally look at Rick’s face, he noticed the man looked a bit better than in the kitchen. His eyes were still tired, but Morty saw the absence of lines he hadn’t consciously noted earlier and a small, answering curl of Rick’s lips. Minute by minute the man’s body relaxed back into his seat and hands unclenched from the wheel, one falling to lie by his side, almost brushing by him. Rick finally noticed him looking, but didn’t tense up again.
“D-Don’t worry, buddy,” Rick said, “We get this d-damn crystal I need a-and the a-alien back on Earth can say bye-bye to l-life.”
“Y-yeah, Rick…” He trailed off.
Yes, that’s what Morty needed to do. Just act normal and never ever think about the moment in the ship. They could put this behind themselves and Morty can lock that part, the sick part of himself, behind metal door and thick chains. Maybe, if he deprived that part of himself, it would disappear, but he didn’t have much faith. Nonetheless, all he had to do was act normal.
Just that one moment free of the weight of his actions made him feel better. His headache had almost disappeared and some energy had returned to his muscles, combating the receding chill.
Maybe Morty could get back that easy relationship with Rick if he showed the man he could act like a normal grandson.