Chapter Text
Rick was trying to hide it as best as he could, but the truth was that the day’s mission was solely for a last-minute weapons order. He knew that Morty didn't enjoy these kinds of runs, he probably hated them judging from how he'd reacted to meeting Krombopulous Michael. Their car ride was especially tense this time, Morty sitting as far away as he could from Rick while Rick tried to focus on driving, and not on the questions flying around in his mind. He was hoping that the deal would somehow take his mind off the events of the past couple of days, maybe make things better and ease the waters between the two of them.
Rick wasn't mad at Morty, if anything he was just worried. He didn't know what his grandson was getting into, and while it could be completely harmless, he had a feeling there was something sinister going on. The fact that the other Morty had been trying so hard to get Morty to leave was rubbing Rick the wrong way.
Rick was relieved when they pulled up to the parking lot of the warehouse that he'd agreed to do the deal in, finally being able to focus on the task at hand. As he parked, he grabbed everything he needed as quickly as he could. "Morty, you stay in the car okay? I'll-I’ll be right back." Morty looked at him scrupulously. "But I never stay in the car. Why are we here, Rick?" Rick easily slid out of the car, locking it on the way. "Grandpas gotta do this on his own, Morty, it's safer for you in here. I promise I'll be right back, I'll only be like, two seconds." Rick slammed the door closed and hurried off to the warehouse, casting a worried look behind him towards the car.
Morty had done as Rick said and begrudgingly waited in the car. But that was about 20 minutes ago, while Ricks deals only lasted 5 minutes’ tops. Something wasn't right, and Morty knew it. Curiosity and worry getting the better of him, Morty opened the car door and slipped out, being slow and careful in case Rick came out of the warehouse. He did not, and Morty hesitantly made his way to the warehouse door, peeking inside before stepping in. Big boxes were piled up to the ceiling, making walls and corridors throughout the layout of the building. Morty walked down the one in front of him, repressing the urge to call out for Rick. Morty imagined that he had probably just gotten to chatting with his clients and had let the time escape him, but he also had a strong suspicion that that was far from the case. Rounding a corner while lost in thought, he came face to face with a scene he thought he would never see.
Rick sat in a single chair, wrists tied behind him and guards at either side or him. He was lightly kicking his heels against the legs of the chair in a bored manner and glaring at the figure in front of him. The figure was talking, but turned to face Morty almost immediately, sensing his presence before anyone else in the room.
Mortimer stood in front of Morty with a gun in his hand, and as he took in the sight of Morty a smile lit up his face. "Morty! Just in time, I was starting to get worried about you, you know. Thought you might not show up." Mortimer walked over to Morty and slung a comradely arm around his shoulder, not seeming to notice or care about Morty’s shock. "M-Mortimer, what did you do to Rick? What's-what’s going on?" Mortimer led Morty over to his original spot in front of Rick, waving his gun in their grandfather’s direction. "I've set it all up for you Morty, this way it will be much easier for you." Mortimer let go of Morty and started slowly pacing around Rick, who watched Mortimer with hatred and a hint of poorly hidden fear. Morty stood in the spot Mortimer had left him in, nervously grabbing his shirt hem. "You mean to... run away?" Mortimer chuckled, stopping behind Rick for a moment to regard the back of the old man’s head, before continuing his lazy stroll. "Well yes, that too. But there is one teeny, tiny, little thing you need to do before we can leave." Mortimer had made his way back to Morty’s side. Morty felt dread rising in his chest, refusing to look at Mortimer, knowing in his gut what Mortimer was talking about. Instead, he locked eyes with Rick. Where there should have been fear or anger on his face, there was only sadness that stabbed Morty worse than any knife could have.
"Morty, you need to kill him."
Morty immediately shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "No, no I can't do that Mortimer. He doesn't deserve-"
"He deserves worse than death, Morty." Mortimer grabbed Morty’s hand, bringing it up to hold close to his chest. "He's hurt you. Betrayed you. He thinks you're nothing, but you are everything, Morty. Kill him Morty, and together we can be great, no limits. Just us." Morty was shaking, torn between the two of them. "I don't know what your Rick was like, Mortimer, but you don't know my Rick." Mortimer abandoned Morty’s hand instantly, viciously grabbing Morty’s face and twisting it towards his own. Morty heard Rick fighting against his restraints, yelling something out to try and stop Mortimer from hurting Morty. "I know exactly what this Rick is like." He spat, tugging Morty’s face close. Fire burned in his eyes. "Rick C-137. 'The Rickest Rick'. My horrible grandfather." Mortimer roughly let go of Morty’s face, turning towards Rick. "He left me to die, Morty. When I needed him most, he left me, and never came back to find me." Realization dawned on Ricks face. "You're...?" Mortimer stepped forward, leering tauntingly in Ricks face. "That's right Rick, it's me. Thought you could get rid of me that easily?" Rick looked panicked, struggling with his restraints. "What? No! That's not what- I didn't-" Mortimer slapped him across the face, and Rick stared at him, dumbfounded. "Any words you have for me are useless now. Any fucks I gave died along with those crew members."
"You're a psychopath."
Mortimer’s mouth twisted into a grin for a split second, before he stood up straight and turned back to Morty, who was looking between the two with utter confusion. "He'll abandon you just like he abandoned me, Morty. But if you kill him," Mortimer passionately grabbed Morty’s hands, slipping the gun into them and closing Morty’s fingers around the handle, "Morty, together we could accomplish great things. He wouldn't be in our way anymore. No more manipulation, no more using us like tools, no more limits." Mortimer circled behind Morty, holding his shoulders tenderly with a crazed look across his face. "Shoot him, Morty."
Morty looked up at Rick. He was still, looking off the side. He looked more tired than Morty had ever seen him look in his life. Morty’s hands trembled, and he was briefly reminded of another time he'd been in a similar situation to this, about to shoot Rick and Rick doing nothing to stop him.
"Do it, Morty." Rick whispered.
Morty’s mind was scattered. If he lost Rick, he didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself. Morty’s hands were trembling, and he stared Rick down, waiting for him to at least look up at him. When he did, Morty regretted it immediately. Morty had hoped that there would be tears, or anger, anything at all. But Ricks face was void of emotion, only expectantly gazing back at Morty. Morty knew he was crying, that if this were a normal situation, then Rick would tell him to suck it up, but this felt far from normal. Morty felt Mortimer’s hands on his shoulders, somehow comforting despite the circumstances. Rick gave Morty a sad, hopeful smile, Morty trying to choke back a rising sob. "Come on Morty, I want you to. Just do it." Slowly raising the gun, Morty tried to take aim at Rick, his hands trembling too much to line it up correctly. He felt Mortimer lean forward in anticipation behind him, his breath coming out in short hot bursts against Morty’s neck. Rick leaned in too, seeming to vibrate with anticipation for what was to come. The air was electric, everyone paused expectantly for Morty to make his move. Morty’s breathe caught in his throat, making his words come out garbled and strained. "I'm sorry."
Morty twirled around, shoving the barrel of the gun into Mortimer’s forehead. Morty glimpsed Mortimer’s look of surprise before pulling the trigger. He saw no sense of betrayal or hurt, only pure shock, his excited blush still fresh on his cheeks. Bits of brains and blood spewed out behind him, splattering onto the floor before his body followed. Morty sobbed, wanting to mourn the loss of his double, but forced himself to turn back to the guards and take them out in quick succession. His trembling having transformed into full-fledged tremors, Morty made his way towards Rick, numbly freeing him. Rick slowly got up and turned towards him, awkwardly rubbing his arm and glancing back at Mortimer’s lifeless body. Morty stood behind the chair, staring at Mortimer and letting the tears flow freely down his face. Mortimer had quickly become an antidote for Morty, feelings of safety and security washing over him every time they had met. Morty knew that if he had chosen Mortimer, though, the closeness would have immediately spiraled into its own kind of abuse.
It didn't make losing Mortimer or the affection that came with him any easier for Morty.
Rick let his hands drop to his sides, searching for the right words to say to his grandson. "Morty, I..." he was at a loss and trailed off, staring at Morty worriedly. Morty shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about it right now, Rick." Rick nodded. Morty stiffly went around the chair to Rick and buried his face in Ricks shirtfront, grabbing his coat and fisting it into his hands. Rick hugged him back immediately, patting his back and rubbing circles in it. They both tried to ignore the dead body behind them.
"Let's go and get some ice cream, yeah buddy?"
Morty nodded against Ricks shirt, letting out another broken sob and tugging tightly at his coat.