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Morty is still a bit out of his mind, probably still coming down from a cocktail of drugs as Rick places him as gently and quickly as he can in the passenger seat of the ship, hopping around to the other side and sliding in. The ship takes off before Rick’s door is even fully closed. There’s fire everywhere, the building they’ve just exited is a pile of rubble, and Morty tries, he tries so hard to put it all together.
They were running through the flames, Morty being dragged by the wrist in Rick’s hand. Really, he was more stumbling than running, vertigo crashing into him in waves and making it impossible to run straight. He heard some kind of crash, some thud, swore something was falling from the ceiling, and suddenly Rick was crouched half-over him, acting as a shield as he gazed around the room. In another instant, Morty was slung into the man’s arms and the running continued, much easier this time since he was being carried. Before that,
Morty’s eyes finally began adjusting to the light from his blindfold being removed. In what looks to be a prison cell, or some sort of dungeon, Morty sat on an uncomfortable chair, ropes scattering the floor near him— what were those for? Where was Rick, he was just here— he spotted Rick in front of him, beating the shit out of a man he vaguely recognizes. Ah, one of the kidnappers. Right. He was kidnapped. The kidnapper and his uniform resembles the three-ish corpses on the ground, as far as Morty’s fuzzy eyes can tell, looking between the room and the small stretch of visible hallway. Rick comes back to him and grabs his hand with a stern expression, opens his mouth,
“Hey, kid,” there’s a snapping in front of his face and wait, Morty’s on the ship, “don’t drift off on me before I get the chance to check you for a concussion, alright? …Maybe also find out what they drugged you with. Geez, look at you.”
Morty hums a noncommittal noise and flops his head toward the older man. Rick is driving, gaze flitting between the space in front of him and Morty. He’s frowning.
“Uryouuu… opkay, grrrrrrampa Rikt?”
“Am I okay? Kid, you’re the one who got kidnapped, I should be asking you that.”
Right, right, the kidnapping. What had happened??
A strangled voice calls out from a distance, more distressed than he’s ever heard it,
“MORTY?! MORTY, WHERE ARE YOU?!”
With no sight, very little energy, and a lot of confusion, Morty answers the call as best he can,
“Rick! I’m here! Over here, Rick! Hello?!”
The voice shouting his name grows closer and closer and closer, and crashes into something metal. There’s cursing and fidgeting and a blast, and something metal hits the floor, and Morty feels hands on his shoulders. He yelps slightly as the cloth blindfold is removed.
Rick is standing over him, face quite close to his, breathing heavily and looking absolutely feral. He’s more scared than Morty’s ever seen, and the relief is clear in his shoulders when Morty speaks,
“Rick?”
“Yea, it’s me, Morty. I’ve gotcha. Grandpa’s gonna get you out of here.”
He does a horribly awkward lean over to give Morty a quick hug, then leans a little less to fidget with some bindings on Morty’s wrists— oh, that’s why he wasn’t moving his arms.
“I’m just gonna untie these, real quick, and then on our way out we’ll swing by general-dipshit’s office and show him what happens to people who mess with Rick Sanchez. I’m a god, Morty, people should—“
“You came.”
Rick pulls back to look Morty in the eyes again, apparently stricken with something. There’s a silence, too long, longer than they have to spare, as Rick just stares dumbfounded.
“Wh-What do you mean I came? I’m here? Yea, dumbass, what kinda drugs have they got you on? You can see me, right?” Rick waves a hand dumbly in front of Morty’s face and resets his stupid scowl before going back to untying his ankles, oh, those were tied too?
“Yea, I guess I just… I’m just happy. You came to get me.”
It’s hard to tell if Rick actually set his jaw tighter or if Morty’s just loopy.
“Duh. Don’t be stupid, Morty. Of course I came to get you.”
Sounds emerge from the hallway as the last rope comes loose and Rick jolts, whipping out a laser pistol and gritting his teeth,
“I’m gonna beat that fucker into the ground. I’m gonna kill him, tear him limb from limb, I swear—“
“Morty! Staaaaay with me here, buddy.”
The garage. When had they gotten home? Morty blinks a few times at Rick, who seems to be injecting him with… something.
“Just a couple more of these, bud. Just cause I don’t know what all they gave you, that’s it. There we go.”
Slowly, the fog in Morty’s head drifts away and the duo is left with nothing but themselves and the garage. Rick looks into his face,
“There. You back?”
“Yea, I think so.”
“Good. You hurt anywhere?”
“Geez, uh, I guess I’m not sure…”
“Great. Alright then, shirt off, I’ll just see for myself.”
Taking off his shirt jostles something in Morty’s torso that makes him wince and look down. There’s a nice big bruise near the bottom of his ribs. Rick does something between a sigh and a growl and retrieves more wacky doo-dads from a box. Morty just watches.
“Thanks for, uh, saving me, Rick.”
“Y’know, you pretty much already said that, Morty.”
“Oh.”
A few minutes. None of the idle chatter that they usually engage in. Something is tense and wrong and bad and Morty has an instinct to apologize. Instead, once the bruise is melting away,
“Is everything okay, Rick?”
Rick sighs and runs his hand across his face,
“No, everything is not okay, Morty.” He stops and puts everything down, standing right in front of Morty and looking into his eyes with too much severity,
“Did you really think I wasn’t gonna come get you?”
Morty freezes. Yes.
He was pretty sure he was toast.
“Nice and simple,” the ugly magenta man had explained after Morty woke up tied to the chair, “we send one good picture of you to your traveling companion, he pays the ransom, we give you an escape pod and say goodbye. You see?”
“Rick’s not gonna pay the ransom.”
The man, who had up until then just been pacing back and forth cockily while some annoying henchmen stood stupidly behind him, stopped and turned to Morty with surprise, then amusement,
“Oh? You think he will leave you here to die? We can be very convincing~”
“I mean, yea— I guess, well, not exactly. More like he’ll either expect me to figure it out myself, or if he shows up, he’ll just blow the place up to get me out. If his only option is to pay you, he’d rather just not. He doesn’t like people telling him what to do.”
Morty’s casual tone gave the man in pause, a moment of awkward silence floating by before his jutting brow furrowed.
“I won’t hear this. Let’s skip to the next part of the process— getting our picture, then getting you out of the picture.”
He smirked and made a gesture, and one of the henchmen stepped forward with a some kind of club or baseball bat, the other unloading a bag of syringes. The leader laughed as he held up a camera and Morty swallowed hard.
“Oh, geez…”
Back in the present, the silence had gone long enough to give Rick his answer. His face falls into his hands with a low and devastated sound.
“Oh, boy. That’s just great.”
“It’s not that thought you wouldn’t, Rick, I just, y’know, I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you’d expect me to do it myself or something, or… I don’t know, I just wasn’t a hundred percent sure!”
“You shouldn’t have to wonder about that shit, Morty!”
“I’m more sorry I let myself get kidnapped in the first place! And that I wasn’t really helpful with the escape thing, man, you kind of had to do all the work there, geez, sorry—“
“Shut the fuck up, Morty, you’re making it worse.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Rick closes one hand tightly around the hem of his coat and grabs a fistful of his hair with the other, frustration mounting. Morty frantically tries to decipher what to say to make this right, but Rick turns to him with anxious exasperation, hands landing once more on Morty’s shoulders,
“Listen to me, Morty. I will always come get you. You understand? Always. If push came to shove, I would’ve paid those fuckers to get you back. Not that I would’ve ever had to do that, those guys were idiots Morty— they had to be idiots to decide to take you from me in the first place, that’s a stupid thing to do, Morty— but seriously I would’ve done preeeetty much anything to get you back, Morty. Understand? Anything. Always.”
Morty’s voice becomes a bit small, but he can’t hold back the response that shows itself right on the tip of his tongue.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just get another Morty?”
To Morty, Rick suddenly resembles some sort of loading screen, like a program that froze and is trying to process the situation to come back online. He just loses function for a moment.
To Rick? Well, Rick’s world just came crashing down in front of him. His soul exploded into little tiny pieces and all of the pieces started crying. He knows he’s been hard on the kid, yea, he teases a lot and he’s not exactly soft but fuck, he didn’t mean to… it shouldn’t have been this bad, it should never have… he never wanted Morty to have to question… he thought his actions had been enough, had been clear enough to let the boy know… but apparently… shit, he’s really fucked this up, hasn’t he?
“I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”
“Huh? Rick, what, what do you m—“
“I’m. Sorry.”
Shame floods Rick’s veins as he struggles the words out. He’s going to have to practice that one, he needs to be able to say it more often, among other things,
“I’m so bad at this sappy shit, Morty, so bad, but I’ll do it for you, understand? Fucking— I’d do anything for you, Morty. And not just any version of you. Not some other Morty. Just you.” His grip tightens and Morty quietly gasps, noticing the welling tears. “You. Are. My. Morty. I know I joke about it a lot, but fuck, I don’t mean it, kid, I, I could never just… replace you like that. I’d fucking kill myself, Morty, you understand? I could never— I, uh, Morty,” the tears finally spring loose and it takes everything in Rick’s power not to turn away with shame, to hide this rawness from his grandson but he knows he can’t, not until Morty understands, “I love you, Morty, okay? Grandpa loves you. And I, fucking, I’m gonna kill those guys, okay? I’m gonna, gonna go beat the shit out of ‘em for daring to touch you, make sure everyone knows nobody touches my sweet boy, my Morty, my— nobody— I’ll never let this happen again. Okay? You understand now?”
By this point, Morty has also started crying, much more profusely than Rick himself. He sniffles and manages with a breaking voice,
“I love you too, Rick.”
And practically pounces on him for a hug, which Rick gladly accepts.
When they’ve both recovered enough to release the other and sniffle the tears away, Rick smiles a normal smile and pats Morty on the shoulder,
“Now, you should probably get some kind of sleep, and I’ll go back and fuck these guys up, how’s that sound?”
“Aww, Rick, can’t I go with you? I wanna see!”
“Eh, fine, kid, fine, but don’t get a big head about it. Also, I’m bringing the extra medicine kit, just in case.”
“You worried about me, Rick?”
“No, I just don’t want you to bleed all over my seats if you do something stupid.”
“Oh, suuuure.”
“I’m getting real close to changing my mind, Morty, reeeeeal close.”
“Alright, alright.” Morty smiles and nudges Rick with an elbow as he moves to reenter the ship, “I love you, Grandpa.”
If it’s what the kid needs, Rick decides, he’ll just have to make a habit of saying that shit more often. He sighs and resigns himself to becoming sappy.
“Love you too, Morty.”