Chapter Text
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It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting it, he predicted it, every. Single. Time. He never bet on it, of course it was like the weather. What was the job of a weatherman if not to try and predict the weather?
Of course, he knew he’d fail; he always did. Of course, the weather is unpredictable and so was every single Rick. Because every single Rick was different. Ever so slightly.
But then again, so too could a Morty be unpredictable. Ever since that small piece of the ever-infinite possibilities had been cut off from the rest of everything else, a great number of Ricks became wary, untrusting. It was like, after a group of Ricks decided they wanted to isolate themselves and great armfuls of other whole universes and dimensions, a kind of unspoken trust had died everywhere.
Intel of the occurrence, the cave-in, as it was being called—mostly through gossip they picked up here and there—didn’t give much for them to go on as, nobody seemed to know enough about it. His group liked to joke it was because they were reverting back to a primitive time; a time before universes like theirs started linking together and people like them had yet to discover the multiverse. And because they were doing it to themselves, no one was a victim except the ones who didn’t know why they were really there.
It wasn’t their problem, anyway. And it wasn’t Sam’s current problem, either.
The brief moment it took for him to tell this Rick about their mission had passed, the weight of the earth won over him and his old knees gave in. The sight was pathetic, and he knew his team would laugh—at both of them, but the part of him that was still Morty told him it’d happen anyway, always the punchline. His feet finally scratched the itch to move himself forward and get closer to the Rick. It was a stupid decision for anyone who didn’t believe in the warning signs, but he wasn’t just anyone. Not caring much that the rubble of this now fully broken world dirtied his shoeless feet, or the bite he still felt through the socks, he was still going to answer when compassion called.
Just for a moment, his heart hurt, just for a little, for this Rick. It wasn’t his Rick, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Empathy moved through him and pushed him forward.
“Sy, for the love of God, not again.” Said his captain, the fucker who dragged him by the scruff of his underfed six-year-old neck into the mess of flesh and metal that he lives in now.
His middle finger went up so fast—the hostility wasn’t his second instinct; it was his first—as he walked towards the man who had lost nearly everything to another who hasn’t made an appearance since the first timeline they erased from existence.
He took the Rick’s face into his hands, and his cybernetic eye took on a more eerie glow of its darker red shade. “You are not the only Rick who has lost his other half in an attempt to find perfect, you will not be the last, either, but there are plenty other Rickless Mortys, too, in need of someone who will care for them,” he lifted the Rick’s head to see his broken face better. “Someone like you.” He watched the emotions on his face like a slideshow, and he prayed to every deity in existence that he might have planted a fertile seed of hope.
A happy ending, for him, was far out of view, but if anything, at least he could try and give it to another version of himself. With those final words, he turned around to find his team and the others already filing through their respective portals, back to their bases. He found Red-Eye waiting behind for him, to see him sidle through first.
*
Back at their base, Captain Rick’s spaceship, Scar-Hands Rick smacked him upside the head the second the portal closed. The power of the hit forced his head down, but he reacted quickly by countering, grabbing the offending arm that had touched him, jerking his head back and breaking the bone, hand on the elbow, other on the wrist that was already so close and forcing its place to remain at the back of his head.
Scars cursed him and yelled out at the pain, and in order to shut him up, Captain aimed an injection gun to the arm, healing his broken bone immediately. With this, Sy and Scars started wrestling.
“That’s enough, you fucking childre,” growled their captain, using his arms to physically tear them apart, “God, you guys are annoying.”
Scars and Sam tilted their heads down respectfully as their other three teammates came to stand beside them to mirror their compliant stances. Having grown up around Ricks, he knew when it was time to stop taunting the living fossils; the grouchy dinosaurs could groan and growl all they wanted, but it could get boring rather quickly. It was so easy to get on their nerves, but he didn’t often find the punishments of simply breathing too loudly to be worth the hassle.
“Yes, captain,” they said in unison.
“HQ gave us a break for the next couple days, but no drinking,” he shot them a pointed glare, “I swear to fucking God, if one of you gets your asses lost again, I’m gonna put you all on paperwork duty.”
Sam rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “we already do our own paperwork,” and folded his arms like the teenager he was meant to be.
“What was that?” Snapped Captain.
“Nothing.” He grumbled, keeping his tone as neutral as he could muster so as not to raise the ire of his elder even more. “Is that all? May we be excused?”
“You’ll be excused when I say you’re excused, you little shithead.” And he turned to clear a whole desk by pulling out boxes and scraping whatever was on top to fall into the cardboard, but when he saw they were still standing there, he practically roared like an angry lion, “yes, go! Jesus Christ, when will you catch on that I never want to spend more than a millisecond more outside of work with you all!”
And two Ricks jumped a little, grumbled, but left, walking into the same portal, Scars took his own and Red-Eye left in another. Before leaving, Red patted him on the shoulder once for good luck, knowing he was already in for an earful.
When all the portals closed, Captain threw a glass beaker his way, but instead of simply dodging and letting it just shatter, he caught midair. He held it steady, right in front of his face where it was aimed. Captain may not have been great at being his substitute parent, but he was lethal, and maybe that was probably the only reason he was placed with him. Not able to be there emotionally, he could at least keep him alive.
He lowered the beaker, revealing his scowl, a mannerism that mirrored the captain’s, “are you done?” He asked, anger seeping into his voice and making it sound distorted, like someone who had pixlexia.
“Why do you do this to yourself, Morty, every single fucking time a Rick shows weakness you help them out like they aren’t the most dangerous things in the multiverse.”
“Because they aren’t.” He shrugged, passing the beaker back and forth between his hands, juggling the idea in his mind if he wanted to risk throwing it back or not. “Next target?” He countered before the elder could continue pestering him with the same lecture he got after most missions.
“I know what you’re doing.” He scowled, frown deepening.
“Oh, yeah? And what’s my next target? Because we don’t have time for this argument again,” and within the next breath, again he cut him off before he could continue, “and don’t give me the piss poor excuse because you’d have to take me to the mech-docters again, we both know almost 50% of me is alien metal by earth standards.”
“That shit’s expensive—you, you little shit,” and he grabbed him by the front of his yellow shirt, “are expensive, if I have to take you back to the mechanics again because you wanted to throw another pity party, it’s gonna start comin’ out of your paychecks.”
He grappled for purchase at the hand that was lifting him up, causing his feet to slip in their dirtied white socks on the floor, forcing him to stand on his tip toes. “Fine!” He hissed, “do it, take my currency, take all of it, I don’t fucking care, you didn’t seem to care about the cost of having me around when you called in your request the first time, you absolute—fucker!”
“Shut up, right now, shut up! You go to the next target tomorrow.” And he aimed a portal at the wall next to them, “goodbye.” and tossed him through it, despite his age, his enhanced strength allowed him to treat the younger as no lighter than a simple sack of root-vegetables.
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