Chapter Text
Here’s the thing: Rick is C-137, but Morty is not. There was never a C-137 Morty, though Rick thinks Morty is most deserving of that title if he were ever to give it to anyone. But titles are stupid and it doesn’t matter anyways.
After the death of everyone he ever gave a shit about, Rick was in a dark place for a while. He traveled, he killed, and he filled the void with alcohol and whoever he found attractive, or just whoever looked enough like his late wife. Not the best coping mechanisms, but Rick indulged himself a little, then didn’t stop and didn’t want to stop so it all spiraled from there.
He searched for the Rick who killed his wife and kid— Rick Prime, some of the other Ricks he came across called him— but always came up empty. The fucker wasn’t just one step ahead, he was ten, and Rick tasted nothing but his dust and occasionally, deadly toxins from any traps he left behind.
Prime knew Rick was after him. Prime seemed to think it was funny. Rick hadn’t been face to face with him in years since that day and it drove him up the wall. Every Rick who ever worked with Prime had nothing useful to say, and putting a laser through their heads was just never satisfying enough.
Through his travels, Rick learned quickly that his need for revenge and closure drove him to up his game more so than most Ricks. That he was better than the average and could mow down hundreds like they were nothing, able to outsmart almost every other Rick out there.
Every other Rick he came across except Prime.
It was after three bottles of some kind of alien alcohol that had him swaying on his feet that something occurred to him.
Every Rick had a dimension assigned to them. They all called him C-137, though sometimes some choice words were attached to it as well, but if Rick could find out Prime’s dimension… Well, the guy had to go home sometime, right?
It wasn’t hard to figure it out. At last, some of the Rick’s with Prime were useful and before long, Rick was in his dimension. He kept his head down of course, hoping to catch Prime returning sooner or later, but couldn’t help but do a little research into what exactly Prime’s world was like.
A lot of the physical aspects were the same, though Rick was particularly confused when one of his favorite bands, The Red Man Group had become The Blue Man Group but they sounded the same so he adjusted. Though, when it came to his family, it was a little harder to swallow.
They were alive for one. Diane and Prime were divorced— messily, by the sound of it, to the point where Diane wasn’t in contact with anyone, Beth included, and not even Rick could track her down to confirm if she was really alive or not. He supposed that if she had been married to Prime of all people, she was probably pretty good at staying off the grid even from someone as smart as him.
Beth on the other hand, was married. Got knocked up in High School by some guy named Jerry Smith— one look at his information and Rick hated him already; Beth could do so much better— and kept the kid. She had two kids actually— Summer, the older and a girl, and Morty, who was a boy and only a few months old. She was a horse surgeon, lived in the suburbs, and most importantly, she was alive, his baby girl was alive and he missed her so much.
Except.
Except that wasn’t his baby girl. This wasn’t his Beth, his grandkids, his divorced wife, or his goddamn dimension. He could return to his dimension, but what would it bring but literal haunting memories and pain for what would never be?
This wasn’t his world. This was Prime’s, and Rick was only here to ambush and kill him. He was here to kill this Beth’s father and had no right to call her his kid because he never raised her. Never was a part of her life— though from the sounds of it, Prime barely was either.
Rick told himself that as he hunkered down and waited. Told it to himself again and again and again.
But Rick was curious and worse, intelligent. He could find out anything he wanted to with enough digging, and the more he looked into this world, and particularly, this Beth, the more it hurt.
She was so much like his Beth. Dangerously intelligent, determined, a little arrogant but still perfect in every way. Her father’s daughter, for better or for worse.
This Beth is the Beth his little girl could’ve been. She could’ve grown up, gotten married (even if it was to someone like Jerry Smith), had kids, gotten a job, been fucking happy—
It’s a tough pill to swallow. Naturally, Rick gets it down with a bottle of alcohol and fills his head with all the ways he could kill Prime when he sees him again. It helps some, but never enough, but that’s fine. Rick has been carrying around the deaths of his wife and daughter since it happened, even a small relief makes a big difference.
He waits. Kills more Ricks, makes an alliance with others who agree to give him any information they have on Prime and where he’s gone if he helps design them a safe place for Ricks. Rick watches the Citadel be built, watches his grandkids grow up, and pops in on Prime’s Smith Family every once in a while. He holds Prime’s Morty when he’s a toddler, threatens one of the stupid pre-teen boys who breaks Summer’s heart, gets Beth a raise by implanting the idea into her boss’ head, and hides Jerry’s keys and remote in weird places just to fuck with him.
He sticks around, hidden in the shadows, for years. He interferes in small ways during moments of weakness, but never shows his face to anyone who will remember it.
Then one day, he gets so drunk that he crash lands in Beth’s garage. Groaning, he pulls himself out of the rubble, already calculating how to treat his injuries, patch up his ship and garage, and leave without a trace of him ever being there. It’s night and the whole family was asleep moments ago but if the crash woke them up, he can knock them all out and erase their memories—
The door to the house opens. Beth stands there, shocked and eyes locked onto him. She starts to tear up, one hand covering her mouth, and he hears a soft, almost inaudible, “Dad?”
Rick’s resolve wavers.
This Beth— Prime’s Beth— hasn’t seen her father in over twenty years now. Prime was assumed dead by many who vaguely knew him and when Diane disappeared too, Beth had no one. No family except the one she made— maybe that’s why she ended up with a loser like Jerry. He wasn’t gonna leave because he knew damn well that Beth was as good as he was gonna get.
Rick thinks he can understand her. This isn’t his daughter but she is Beth. A Beth, not his Beth, but it’s so close to the real thing that it’s hard to look away. Hard to think about wiping her memory of his moment and leaving without a trace.
Beth misses her father. Rick misses his daughter. They’re not actually related to each other but whether they know it or not, they’re both looking at someone who isn’t quite who they wanted but is close enough that it doesn’t really matter.
Rick’s plan to leave crumbles to pieces and carefully, Rick stumbles out of the mess he’s made out of her garage and softly replies, “Hey, sweetie.”
Beth bursts into tears, rushing forward to hug him. Rick returns it— the first physical affection he’s gotten in years. He’s never been one for it, even when he was a kid, but this… He thinks he could get used to it.
Beth pulls him inside before long, waking up the whole family and introducing Jerry, Morty, and Summer to her father, and Rick to them. He already knows their names— hell, he knows their birthdays, blood types, and goddamn social security numbers— but he pretends he’s meeting them all for the first time and greets them as such.
Beth gets him to stay. For a day, for a week, for a month— and Rick finds it harder to leave.
He shouldn’t be here. He should be waiting in the shadows for Prime to return.
But Prime hasn’t come back in years when he did before, and Rick realizes that maybe hanging around his family might make him turn up. Maybe he could piss Prime off and trick him into returning so Rick can finally kill him.
It’s enough justification and Rick settles in, fortifying the house and himself to prepare for a battle quite literally on his doorstep.
—
Rick worries the most about other Ricks tipping the family off about him not being their Rick. To his surprise, they don’t even bat an eye.
They call him C-137 still, not fooled like the family was because they know better and they actually know what Rick Prime is like unlike 3/4ths of the family that has never actually met him and Beth, who knew the basics of her father but not enough to distinguish him from an alternative version of himself. The other Ricks know full well that he has taken over another dimension and another family for his own benefit.
They don’t make a fucking peep about it.
Rick learns pretty quickly just how common universe stealing and swapping is. He knew some Ricks did it but now knows the extent to it that he does now. How easily they slip into another universe as if nothing changed, then act like it’s their own. It would make him sick if doing so wouldn’t make him a complete fucking hypocrite.
They call him C-137. They call the rest of the family C-137 too, even if they’re not, and Rick learns that it’s because they view the whole family— the whole damn dimension— as Rick’s property. They don’t call it Prime’s anymore because apparently, if Prime wanted it back so badly, he would’ve taken it back by now.
And Rick comes to terms with it in the end. That lurking in Prime’s dimension, waiting for him to show up one day so Rick can finally have a showdown with him, won’t do a thing. Prime wont come and Rick has been wasting his time for nothing.
He packs a bag that day. Starts making calculations for where Prime could be in order to chase him down. He almost takes off too, if it weren’t for the thirteen year old in his bedroom doorway, blocking his path and looking up at him with wide eyes.
Morty is young and isn’t the brightest but he’s still a Rick’s grandson and he knows what’s happening when he sees it. His eyebrows crease and he mumbled a confused and somewhat heartbroken, “Are you leaving?”
He’s not Rick’s Morty. He’s Prime’s— he shares blood with that bastard and maybe he’ll grow up to be just as bad. Not to mention, there are infinite dimensions with infinite Mortys— just as young and wide-eyed and admiring. Rick can find a new family if he really felt like it, kill their Rick with ease, and slot right in like he’s always been there. This Morty doesn’t matter. It’s not his and he’ll never have a Morty because his daughter is dead and her killer is still out there. This Morty is the grandson of that killer.
Nothing matters and they’re all gonna die anyway. Rick is better off without Prime’s Smith Family distracting him.
But.
But, the kid is staring at him, standing in his way, and he’s thirteen and not even a sliver as intelligent as Rick so it’s not like he’s actually stopping him from doing anything he wants to do but Morty is looking up at him, so obviously wanting him to stay, and Rick finds it hard to go.
“Nah.” Rick says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and not reacting outwardly when Morty’s shoulders sag in relief. He shouldn’t care about that. “Just gonna go on a little trip— won’t be long.”
“Make— make sure to tell Mom.” Morty stammers quickly, as if he’s afraid Rick will disappear if he waits another moment. It’s not an unfair fear considering Morty didn’t have a grandpa up until this point.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Rick waves him off, but knows he will before he leaves. “I’m— I’m not going anywhere, Morty.”
He means it.
This is revenge, he tells himself, another justification. I might never catch up to Prime, but I can steal everything that’s his.
When Prime’s Morty stands beside Rick, the other Rick’s call him C-137 Morty. Not because he is from dimension C-137, but because he is more Rick’s Morty than he is Prime’s, and Ricks have never cared about staying in dimensions or anything else for that matter enough to point this out to Morty.
Slowly, he stops being Prime’s Morty. The whole family stops being Prime’s family. And it’s not as though Rick has forgotten that they are but more that it really is his family now.
Prime stole this from Rick— stole a wife that might’ve divorced him, a daughter that never got to grow up, a stupid son-in-law he never got to hate, and grandchildren he never got to meet.
So Rick is stealing it back.
—
At some point, the search slows. Rick stops looking for Prime on the daily— a seemingly impossible feat— and instead his days are spent eating dinner with the Smith Family, going on misadventures with Morty, buffing the house’s security, and just about everything in between.
One day, Rick sits in the living room, watching interdimensional cable with the family flipping through channels and arguing over what to watch, and he realizes he hasn’t been following any leads for Prime in three days.
And Rick realizes that maybe he’s given up on it a little.
—
Rick infects Prime’s whole dimension with Cronenburgs on accident and escapes from it, easily slipping him and Prime’s original Morty into a new world and burying their counterparts in the backyard.
Rick considers the idea of Prime returning to his ruined universe and learning that it was Rick’s fault and takes a bit of pleasure from it. Knowing that even if Prime wanted to, there is no original dimension to return to now.
A little more revenge. A little more making Prime know exactly how it fucking feels.
(Deep down, Rick knows Prime doesn’t care and won’t care. If he cared about anything, he would’ve shown up by now, but clearly he’s abandoned his dimension and his Beth and doesn’t care that Rick claimed them as his own.
But he still takes the win because god knows he needs it.)
—
Another Rick pins dozens of deaths on him just to lure him into a trap. He’s smart, Rick will give him that, but there’s something odd about him.
About the way he walks and talks like he’s a living mockery of Ricks. The way he acts seems to be textbook Evil Rick behavior, like he’s purposefully imitating it. The way he almost seems to read off a script, acting as a villain in a play and a damn good one at that, but just slightly off.
The way his Morty shadows him, almost intentionally, like he’s trying to make himself easy to forget about.
The Rick laughs at him when he tears up at the memory of holding Morty when he was young. “Don’t tell me you got attached to a Morty.” He sneers. “He’s not even yours.”
He knows. Many Ricks do but this one is the first to ever bring it up. The first to ever call attention to it.
“Why do you even care about him?” The Rick scoffs. “You can just get another one. That’s exactly what you did in the first place.”
Rick has no good response to that other than a simple 'Fuck you'. Mortys bust down the door not too long after. The Rick is torn apart, hardly doing a thing to defend himself.
Long after it’s all said and done, Rick taps into the Citadel's records on the event. On the Rick’s autopsy, if it can even be called that, the truth stares right back at him. An android, controlled remotely. They were unable to find the receiver.
Rick thinks about the Morty with an eyepatch and dead stare, always standing in his Rick’s shadow, and how there’s no mention of that Rick’s Morty anywhere in the report of the event. How it’s waved away as the Morty running away as soon as his Rick went down.
Rick tells himself it’s not important, but at night, he hears those same words— “He’s not even yours. You can just get another one. That’s exactly what you did in the first place.”— but this time, it’s no longer out of the mouth of a mockery of a Rick, but rather, a cold, unflinching Morty that never once stutters.
Rick tries not to think about how he’s right.
He asks Morty, if the other Morty said anything to him. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or not when Morty tells him he didn’t say anything useful. It still means that Rick has to tell him, eventually.
Rick isn’t sure how he’s meant to broach that subject so he doesn’t.
—
Rick has lost a lot at this point.
His original family, his dimension, his friends, most of Prime’s dimension and family— he loses and loses and loses, and yet, there is infinitely more to gain. Another Beth who he learns to love just like the first two. Another Summer who admires him, and he makes an effort to actually know this one. A Jerry he still doesn’t care for but if everyone else wants to keep him alive then by god will Rick keep them alive for their sake’s.
But Rick has only ever had one Morty. Prime’s Morty technically, but if Prime wants him, he can pry him out of Rick’s cold dead hands because that’s his Morty now. Prime has never done a damn thing to care for him but Rick has. He cares so goddamn much about the kid.
They’re fought together, been on the brink of death and come back. Rick has pulled Morty away from the jaws of death time after time and he would do it again. Morty has saved him too— not as often but always significant, at least in Rick’s eyes. Morty grows— smarter, stronger, faster— and Rick feels pride in his chest watching it happen, even if he’s not the best at voicing it.
But Rick knows that eventually, Morty will find out about Prime. And he isn’t sure how Morty is gonna take the knowledge that Rick isn’t actually his grandpa.
It scares him. That it could ruin things. Because Rick has lost so much and somehow he’s still here but he doesn’t think he could survive losing Morty. He thinks it would break him, maybe just as much as losing his family did. Maybe more.
It’s late at night and Rick’s attention is no longer on flipping through their Interdimensional cable but rather, on Morty, fast asleep on his shoulder. The kid has never done that before. He looks… Peaceful. Content, maybe.
He deserves to know. To make his own decisions and opinions about how to feel about it.
But Rick… He can put it off a little longer. He has all the time in the universe.
—
It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Morty to get kidnapped or separated. No matter how nonchalant and annoyed Rick may play it, it makes him panic every single time.
Rick shouldn’t care about a grandson that isn’t his or a family that is replaceable or care at all because of just how swiftly and cruelly it could all be taken away from him. But Rick still cherishes a supportive wife who loved him and a daughter who could’ve grown up to be a genius and he cares. He cares so goddamn much about the family that isn’t really his because it’s all he can do. It’s what makes him so different from every other Rick— what made what Prime did tear him apart. He’s the Rick that gives a fuck— that gives so many fucks— and he wishes so desperately that he didn’t.
He doesn’t want to get hurt again. Rick runs a little faster, tearing down security as he goes and watching the red dot representing the tracker on his Morty get closer and closer.
Another Rick got him. Some ‘Collector’ Rick who had a habit of stealing Mortys from Ricks across all sorts of dimensions. Admittedly, he’s a cut above the rest, able to kill and/or keep the other Ricks away with practiced ease. He just got unlucky and messed with the wrong Rick.
Rick frees the Mortys stuck in enclosures as he goes— not because he cares but because it’s a good distraction— and never stops moving. Not, at least, until he stumbles across a scene he doesn’t quite expect.
The Collector Rick is on the ground, shoulder and nose bleeding and chest heaving, looking like he just lost a fight. Morty— his Morty— stands at a close but still safe distance away, with a blaster in his blood-knuckled hand and holds it with a scarily steady grip.
Rick freezes, breath catching.
“Oh c-come on now!” The Collector Rick babbles, clearly nervous and trying to back away. Morty just takes a step forward when needed, eyes narrowing. “This is— this is completely unnecessary! I t-told you— I take good care of my M-Mortys! I’ll take care of you even b-better than your Rick did!”
Morty just sighs, never once wavering. “Look, I— I get your whole reasoning and all but this— this is kinda fucked up man, sorry. I talked to the other Mortys— they wanna go home. And honestly, so do I. I already got a Rick, I— I’m not looking to get a new one.”
“But— but he’s not even your Rick!” The Collector Rick blurts out at last, clearly grasping at straws.
Shock takes Rick first, followed quickly by anger— little snitch— then suffocating anxiety. Rick waits for the questions, the confusion, the betrayal that will surely come with Morty’s reaction—
But instead, Morty just sighs again and says, “I know that, that— that’s not the point!”
The Collector Rick finally backs into a chair and swiftly pulls out a gun hidden under it. Rick is broken out of his shock and cuts in before Morty can, shooting him right in the center of his head.
Morty jolts, whirling around before laying eyes on Rick and grinning. Relief and joy are in his eyes upon seeing him, and Rick doesn’t know how to feel about it.
“Fucking finally!” Morty laughs, arm dropping and holding the blaster loosely by his side. Rick knew he had gotten stronger— more comfortable with violence, especially since the Purge Incident and helping in taking down the Galactic Federation and the Council of Ricks— but he didn’t expect this. “What took you so long?”
Rick rolls his eyes as nonchalantly as possible, shoving the thought of Morty knows deep down and retorts with, “Jesus, can a guy not— not get a fuckin’ piss break in the middle of a rescue mission or something?”
—
Rick doesn’t ask immediately. At first it’s because they have to get all the Mortys somewhere safe and then it’s because he doesn’t have the courage but two weeks later, Rick gets a little liquid courage in him and as he tinkers with Morty as his assistant, handing him things and listening intently when Rick explains things, he finally asks.
“Hey, um, Morty.”
“Yeah?” Morty looks up, handing over the tool Rick just asked for.
Rick takes it, fiddling with it in his hands. Morty seems to know immediately that something is off when he does, a frown tugging on his lips, and Rick has to force the words out but he gets there in the end. “How… How long have you known that I’m not your Rick?”
The question seems to shock Morty like he wasn’t expecting it. Then he has to pause, like he really has to consider it, and maybe he does. “Well uh, it wasn’t— it wasn’t a grand revelation or anything?” Morty admits, rubbing the back of his head. He doesn’t quite look at Rick but more because he’s trying to think rather than purposefully avoiding him. “I just— I dunno, it was a bunch of little things and I just… Kinda put it together one day. I think it was having to replace other us-es and pretend like we belonged in a new universe that tipped it off the most for me. You were uh… Really good at it. Made me think and when more things piled on... Just made sense.”
It’s silent for a while after that. Rick struggles to focus on his work, much less make sure he’s breathing right. He had a lot he wanted to say and ask before this but words seem to fail him. He’s the smartest man in the universe, a god amongst men, but he can’t fucking talk and be emotionally honest to save his life.
Morty breaks the silence in the end. “Is he dead?”
“Huh? Who?” Rick has killed a lot of people. He doesn’t know where to begin with the question.
“The other you. From my universe.”
“Oh.” Rick says, because maybe that should’ve been obvious. Of course that’s his first question. “You mean your Rick.”
Morty’s face scrunches up at that. “Rick.” He says, in a tone that usually means he’s upset and Rick has done something wrong but— he doesn’t get it in this situation.
“What?” He has to ask— is he missing something? Is it obvious?
Morty still stares him down. His eyes narrow further when Rick takes longer to respond until he finally seems to realize Rick won't pick it up on his own and sighs. “Just— don’t call him ‘My Rick’, okay?” He says in the end, looking away purposefully this time, and Rick is left baffled.
“Morty, you— you realize you’re not actually from my universe, right?” Rick asks carefully, and Morty makes a frustrated noise.
“I know that!” His voice raises, fists clenching at his side. “But— have I ever met the guy? Has he been around ever?"
Morty’s furious gaze meets Rick’s and Rick shakes his head. Beth hadn’t seen her father in years before Rick came, and Rick would’ve known immediately if Prime had been there. Hell, Rick ran the probability. Prime hadn’t returned since he first left. Not fucking once.
“I’ve never met that Rick.” Morty says, something almost bitter in his voice but it’s closer to empty. “Maybe I’m actually related to him or whatever but he abandoned my mom and never came back, so I don’t give a fuck about him. So just— don’t call him that. Please.”
Rick… Doesn’t know how to argue that. So he just says, “Okay.” Then after a beat, “He’s not dead. He’s still out there.”
Morty huffs at that, almost like he was hoping for the alternative. “What, so he’s just a deadbeat? Or did you chase him off?”
“He left. I kinda… I was chasing him and I thought if I hung around his dimension long enough, he’d show up but… Obviously, he never did.”
Morty doesn’t really react to that. Clearly he had been expecting some kind of answer like that so he’s not even disappointed. Just… Resigned.
“Why were you chasing him anyways?” Morty asks after a moment.
Rick hesitates. He’s almost never broached the subject with anyone, save for some very close friends. But he trusts Morty— and owes him really— so slowly, the words pour out. “He killed my family.”
Morty’s head snaps up at that. Rick doesn’t meet his gaze but does continue.
“It’s a long story but my Diane and Beth, they’re… Gone. He blew them up so I tried to hunt him down. Didn’t really work as you can probably guess.”
“Wait…” Morty processes that for a minute before his eyebrows scrunch further. “Wait, I— Rick, am I bait?”
“What?” Rick reels back. “No— Morty— Morty, this guy doesn’t give a shit about anything! There’s no way to bait him, believe me, I’ve tried.”
Morty searches his gaze for the truth, then after a beat, he asks, “Was I bait?”
And Rick hesitates.
Morty doesn’t need an answer when he does; he already knows it. Rick tries to think of what to say— something meaningful and maybe sentimental but that won’t come across as manipulative— but everything sounds wrong in his head. He falls flat, saying nothing at all in the end, and Morty stands up from his stool.
“I’m gonna go catch up on some homework.” He says, voice steadier than he’s ever heard it. He’s swift to leave. Rick doesn’t look but hears him go, the garage door shutting behind him.
A minute passes in pure, dreadful silence. Rick’s head thunks against his workbench and his fingers thread through his hair, gripping and pulling at it. A muffled sound of frustration leaves him and Rick abandons the thought of working again, opting for lying there.
He sleeps in the garage that night.
—
A week passes. Morty acts normal, as if nothing has changed at all; Rick struggles internally with what that means while trying to do the same; and they don’t talk about it.
But then they’re out for another adventure, collecting materials for a future project of Rick’s, when a pack of large, raging aliens locates and targets them and—
And they win of course but Rick is covered in scratches and bite marks and is seeing stars from getting slammed through a few trees and Morty got his arm clawed up and is wincing in pain. Rick doesn’t have a lot of healing supplies to work with and the leftover jitters of the week really are not helping.
“Hold— hold still, Morty.” Rick tells him and carefully pours a concoction of his own over Morty’s wound. He hisses loudly upon contact, eyes squeezing shut but relaxes after a moment when the wound begins closing up. A sigh escapes him when it’s over, going slack, and Morty mumbles a thanks.
Rick pours what little he has left over the worst of his wounds but it’s not a lot. The dizziness from the pain has him on the ground, heaving for another breath and trying to think of what he needs to do. What his priorities are.
It’s harder to think than usual however. He can’t really remember where he parked his spaceship and he’s an idiot who left his portal gun in the car, mistaking the weight in his lab coat to be his portal gun as usual rather than the leftover shit from the last adventure that he forgot to take out.
“Okay, Rick.” Morty says after a beat, eyes darting around. “Where— where are we going? Back to the ship or heading for— for your ore stuff still?”
“Ship…” Rick mumbles after a minute. He’s pretty sure he takes a little too long to respond because Morty is looking at him funny. He feels funny. He can deal with blood loss pretty well so it’s not that— venom, maybe? Were those venomous creatures?
His body’s immune system is stronger than most. He’ll probably last long enough for it to either pass or until he can make an antidote, whichever comes first. However, he hears howling in the distance, causing both him and Morty to tense. There’s more of those creatures, and they likely smell blood in the air. They’re sitting ducks like this.
Prioritize, his mind urges. So Rick does.
“Morty— Morty, do you— do you remember which way we came?” He stammers at last. It snaps Morty out of his shock.
“Yeah, I— I think?”
“Go.” Rick urges him. “Find the ship and— and stay in it. I’ll— I’ll figure my way out— just go!”
“What?” Morty’s face scrunches up. “No, Rick, that— that’s a shitty idea! Those things are gonna find you and— and they’re gonna tear you apart!”
“I’ll be fine.” Rick insists. Morty’s eyes narrow.
“No, you fucking won’t, you’re out of your goddamn mind! You— you wouldn’t last five minutes against another pack!”
Rick grits his teeth. The howling starts up again, closer this time. They’re running out of time. “Morty, listen to me for— for fucking once and go! Your grandpa will be—” Rick starts to say, then his mouth goes dry at the realization that he called himself Morty’s grandpa. That he just lied on instinct.
Morty’s face twists in confusion. Rick manages to utter a soft, “Just go.” And it finally does the trick. Morty backs away and runs the opposite direction.
Rick’s eyes shut, breathing out. His mind is heavy but Morty is away and safe and that’s all he can bring himself to care about. Everything be fucking damned.
Growling alerts him that the alien pack has finally found them again. Rick wastes no time pulling out his gun and preparing to either get out on his own or go down fighting. He squints at the creatures surrounding him, vision swaying and seeing double, and finds himself relieved that he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally shooting Morty. His cybernetic eye is offline— damaged in the last fight— so he has no assistance. He just has to pick one that looks real and hope he’s right— and that he can actually hit the damn thing.
A shot rings out and one of the creatures falls to the ground, dead.
Rick’s finger hasn’t squeezed the trigger yet though— he’s out of it but not that out of it. His gaze turns and locks onto…
Morty. With a blaster in one hand and the portal gun in the other.
“Get away from my fucking grandpa.” Morty snarls, and the creatures shift their attention to the more obvious threat.
Rick still gets some shots in but to his credit, Morty does most of the work. In no time at all, the creatures are either dead or have fled, clearly not deeming this as a fight worth dying over. Slowly, Morty lowers the blaster and rushes over to his side.
“Rick! Rick!” He calls, looking down at him with worried eyes. “Are— are you okay?”
Rick blinks lazily. “Peachy.” He manages, and Morty’s shoulders relax. Morty opens his mouth to say something else but Rick beats him to it. “You— you said ‘My Grandpa’ before.”
He regrets it a moment later, cringing at his own words. Why is he doing this now? Stupid venom brain.
“Y— yeah?” Morty frowns, head tilting at him and squinting like he’s trying to pick apart his words. “I’ve said it before? Is— is it a big deal now? Did I miss something?”
“I—…” Rick struggles. It was hard enough to think before the venom but he really needs to talk. He put this train into motion, now he needs to make sure it doesn’t crash and burn. “You— you know now. You don’t— you don’t have to call me that.”
It takes Morty a few moments to catch on. “Oh.” He utters after a beat. His face twists in a way that lets Rick know he’s fucking this up. Again. “Is this— do you want me to not call you that?”
“No.” Rick says quickly, heart picking up and forcing the words out before he can hesitate and let things get tense again. “I just— it’s like—” he takes a second to unscramble his thoughts. Morty is patient— maybe more than he deserves. “‘m not your grandpa.” He says at last. “Not your Rick. Didn’t think you’d still… Think like that after you knew.”
“Oh.” Morty says again, then his eyes get a little wider and he seems to double take. “Hold on— Rick, did you keep it from me because you were worried I’d leave?”
Rick hesitates. Again. Morty’s mouth drops. “Holy fucking shit.” He mumbles, then louder, “Holy fucking shit— you were. You fucking were.”
Morty laughs then— almost hysterically— and grins when he tells Rick, “For the smartest man in the galaxy, y— you’re really fucking dumb sometimes!”
Rick can’t help but scrunch his face at that. “I beg your fucking pardon?”
“Then beg.” Morty replies with a shit eating grin. He sobers a moment later. “Rick, remember when I told you that I— I didn’t consider my original Rick ‘My Rick’ because it’s not like he was ever around to be my Rick in the first place?” Rick nods. He remembers the conversation pretty well. Committed it to memory, really. “Well, that was only part of the reason. The other reason— which I thought was more obvious— is because I already have a Rick.” Morty pauses. “You. That’s you.”
Rick halfheartedly rolls his eyes. “I know that.”
“S-Seemed like you could use the reminder.” Morty shrugs. He settles down next to Rick, a hand on the blaster in case danger comes. “Whoever my original Rick was— I don’t know him. And I— I don’t care who he is or ever want to know him because— if he ever wanted to be my Rick, he would’ve been here. Plus he's an asshole who murdered your family. And you’re an asshole but Rick— at least you were there. And you’re shitty sometimes and— and maybe I was just bait to start but… I know you care, even if you don’t say it. I know I matter to you at least.”
Morty cracks a smile and says, “I know if someone used me as bait for you, it would actually work.”
It rouses a chuckle out of Rick. Morty’s smile doesn’t leave. “We good?” Morty asks. “You’re not— not gonna be dumb anymore?”
“I’m not dumb.” Rick grumbles, but it’s half hearted because maybe he deserves it this time. “But sure. Now— give me the portal gun so we can get to the ship and go home already. In case you forgot, I’m— I’m still bleeding over here. Hopped up on fucking— alien venom too so— don’t expect this kind of feelings talk on the regular. This is a literal moment of weakness.”
Morty laughs and hands the portal gun over. Rick takes them to the ship and Morty takes the wheel and drives them home.
—
Three days later, Rick is in the middle of ship maintenance and walking Morty through the steps of it in case he has to do it one day when Morty makes a small, “Huh.” noise.
Rick glances behind him. “What?”
“It just…” Morty pursues his lips. “It never actually— I don’t think I ever fully realized that I’m not Morty C-137, y’know? All the Ricks and Mortys— that’s— it’s always what they called me but… I’m not.”
“Oh, right.” Rick stifles a chuckle. Of course Morty was able to figure out that he wasn’t Rick’s original Morty without processing the full extent of it. “Yeah, well, Ricks don’t really call Morty by what dimension they came from. They— they just call ‘em by where their Ricks are from.”
“Because we’re property, right?” Morty asks and Rick nods. “Fucked up.”
“Fucked up.” Rick agrees. He knows he’s not much better but he’s been trying to change that. “But uh… You know, Beth— m-my Beth— she never got to be a mom so… There was never a C-137 Morty to begin with.”
“Right.” Morty nods.
“So...” Rick hesitates. It’s stupid. It’s sentimental. But Rick has been trying to voice his genuine feelings more and knows it would be better to say it then leave it unsaid. “I-I mean if you want… The spot is open. Nothing to replace or live up to so that— that’s a bonus.”
Rick continues to work on his ship while Morty puts it together. When he does, his eyes go wide. Then he smirks— that infuriating smirk that he does when he knows Rick cares and he’s being smug about it. The same one he made when Rick suggested he might be the Mortiest Morty.
“If I wanted to, huh?” Morty repeats, still smirking.
“Yes— obviously I’m not gonna— gonna force you to take the title if you don’t want it.” Rick rambles, pointedly avoiding his gaze. “I mean— it doesn’t really even matter. Lots of Ricks never had a Morty and just had a new one adopt the title. The title doesn’t even mean anything— it’s actually pretty fucking stupid and if I died, you could just take up a new one so it’s not even—”
“Rick.” Morty says, shutting him down. The smirk is gone, replaced with something more genuine. “I like it. I’ve always been Morty C-137 so— not like it’s a big change for me anyways. Plus— I mean what I said. You’re my Rick.”
Rick nods, a little breathless. “Cool, cool. Lot less paperwork for me, y’know?”
“Paperwork?” Morty raises an eyebrow, still grinning.
“You— you know. Morty Files and whatnot.”
“Sure.” Morty chuckles to himself and Rick rolls his eyes. “You know— I like this new you! You’ve never gotten this— this mushy before. It’s kinda funny.”
“Shut up, Morty.” Rick says, without any real bite to it, and fights a smile when Morty laughs.
—
The Citadel is, quite literally, getting torn apart while Rick and Morty are still inside it and yet, Rick thinks that if anyone deserves to tear it apart, it would be a Morty.
That Morty is back doesn’t need a false Rick to hide how smart he really is anymore. He stands with perfect posture, an air of confidence that Rick has never seen a Morty have, and only ever looks at him with disdain. Whether he knew it or not, he was looking at Rick like that even when he was acting as a friendly president. Rick doesn’t know what this Morty’s Rick did to him but it had to be bad. Maybe it was multiple Ricks, maybe he just figured it all out and hates them all for it— it doesn’t matter.
Rubble falls on Rick, trapping him, and Morty is caught between him and the other Morty. Evil Morty, Eyepatch Mory, President Morty— Rick doesn’t know what to call him. He just isn’t surprised when the other Morty addresses Morty directly.
“You’ve got more of a spine than most, I’ll give you that.” Other Morty says, slipping into a gold spacesuit as a small ship built for speed and getting through rough terrain is lowered down to him. “But you’re still latching onto him. He’s a leech, don’t you get it? You’re just going to get sucked dry.” His one visible eye trails over to Rick, watching as he struggles to get himself free. Distant fury flickers in his eye, even if it doesn’t show on his face. “You could leave him— come with me instead. You’re not even his Morty— you’re a substitute. If you died or left, he’d clone another one. You’ve never actually mattered. You’re an object. An accessory.”
“…Maybe.” Morty says, standing his ground. He’s not as confident as the Other Morty but he doesn’t cower, and that’s something significant. “Maybe to most Ricks, I am. They don’t hide it— I know what they’re like. Hell— whoever the Rick from my dimension was didn’t— didn’t even care enough to show up. But— but my Rick gives a shit. And he’s an asshole and he’s still a Rick but he gives a shit about me and my family. I’m— I’m his Morty and he’s my Rick. I’m not leaving him.”
“…Hm.” The Other Morty considers him, like that wasn’t quite the response he was expecting but the result is still the same. He waves a hand, turning his back to both of them. “Well, good luck with that. When he disappoints you— and Ricks always do— remember you can leave. Though, I doubt you will. Mortys rarely do.” He climbs into the seat of his ship and looks back with a smirk. “What you do doesn’t matter to me either way— the second seat is a toilet.”
Morty’s face twists. “Jesus, you’re cold.”
“Only way to get out.” Other Morty shrugs, buckling himself in. “Goodbye, Backbone Morty.”
“It’s C-137!” Morty barks back as he frees Rick from the rubble. Other Morty raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
The Citadel goes down in flames, breaking apart into pieces. Morty and Rick get out by the skin of their teeth and when it’s all said and done, Rick throws an arm around Morty to hold him close and Morty hugs him back.
“I’ll— I’ll get us out of this, Morty.” Rick stammers, adrenaline still pumping through his veins as he tries to think. No ship, no portal gun, no safe way home— but he’ll find a way. He has to. “I-I promise.”
“I know.” Morty’s eyes shut, exhausted and laying his head on Rick’s shoulder. “I trust you.” He mumbles, half asleep and yet, no less genuine.