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Counting down the minutes 'til my heartbeat stops,
Fooling myself is a full time job….
Everything was okay.
He'd done good… for once.
The man continued to toss and turn on the couch. He'd gotten so used to the smell of piss, it should be funny now.
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Rick felt a distant part of him lay broken after almost being put together. Almost. He could feel his fingers tingling, having barely grazed the concept which some called 'recovery'.
Why did the light disappear though?
Lips parted slightly, the wet tip of his flask met his lower lip, alcohol flowing to his mouth. As if his taste buds went with his ability to distinguish smells, vodka tasted like water. Tasteless, bland, water.
Instead, other senses were amplified. He could see the smallest stains on the ceiling, particles of steam. But he couldn't imagine anywhere but this room right now. Memory failed to cut through the suffocating ceiling, to soar him through the skies and galaxies and make him forget. He could hear noises from the bathroom- the door he didn't find in himself the energy to close, murmurs of water soaking through the carpet, travelling down the staircase.
Yeah, he should probably do something about that, Rick thought mindlessly before taking another swig, turning to the side.
The photograph on the table caught his eye, as it did every time he looked in its direction.
A happy family.
Who was he joking? There was no such a thing.
Rick picked up the golden frame in a soft and slow movement, one of the few things which was not soaked in piss.
Golden, like overly familiar locks of ha-
"Shut up." He muttered to his headache.
Pissmaster and his wife and daughter. He was divorced no doubt. His daughter's voice rang in Rick's head on repeat.
Just promise you won't, okay?
… Okay, yeah. Promise.
Whether lying to her was a morally correct thing to do in his situation or not was something Dr. Wong would have to frown upon once she heard about this in detail, but Rick wasn't ready to go back right now. Not when the storm brewing inside his pounding head was transparent to the naked eye. That wasn't how therapy worked. His version anyway. No one had to see him like this.
In this week, he'd gotten to know a truly pathetic man. Pissmaster had been argumentative, selfish and closed off toward his family. All that made any man think he didn't deserve his daughter's pure hearted concern, even himself. She only got pushed away and probably lied to regularly.
That could've been a reason why he committed suicide.
Also, the description of the relationship between them sounded awfully familiar.
"Shut up…" Rick groaned as he sat up, rubbing his temples.
But she must be proud of her father now. Yes, he was dead. But he achieved his life goal which was more than anyone could say. He didn't cower at the eyes burning holes into him, waiting for his fall. He died saving the planet, as a hero loved by all. A small part of Rick admitted he did it to know the taste of being the 'good guy' in someone's story. The superhero who flies in and saves the day. All the justice and glory wouldn't sit well on Rick's dark and scarred soul.
He'd done good.
Everything was okay now.
His plans were gone through with success and the burden had lightened. But lighter rarely equals to light.
For some reason, he felt like he'd lost a friend. The thought should've made him snicker- he didn't even know one as miserable as Pissmaster until earlier that week, but now he felt like a part of him had spilled out through a crack with his loss.
Because you know what? Rick was even more miserable. He was the king of shit himself. He understood what it felt like to feel so hopeless, wrongly understood. Being told repetitively how much of a piece of shit he was on a daily basis while not being able to justify it because it wouldn't change anything.
Who could relate, being that much of a piece of shit?
He would. Rick Sanchez.
"Numbness wouldn't do." He mumbled dryly, even though he chugged on the bottle of alcohol. "Death is my cure." Yet he continued to live with no will to get up from his spot.
Why was he making such a big deal out of it? Rick had killed people, witnessed their deaths, steered them toward their death. He'd gone through more sickening experiences, ones Pissmaster's death wouldn't even compete with. There was nothing special about the piss-covered surfaces and furniture of this house. The house of a nuisance who made an inappropriate comment on his granddaughter and now was no more.
His phone beeped inside his pocket, making him blink and return to the present. "Yellow?" He drawled lazily.
"Rick, where the fuck are you?"
Rick scrunched up his nose at the sharp tone. "Yes, good evening to you too, Morty."
"Evening? What fucking evening? It's what-" A shuffling was heard behind the line. "Jesus Christ, it's four a.m."
"Why aren't you asleep, then?" Boredly asked the old man, stifling a yawn as he put back the picture. "You can do that instead of yelling at me at 'Jesus Christ, it's four a.m'. Look, I understand that you're going through your period-"
"God, you're such an asshole."
Rick puffed out some air. The bite in Morty's voice was starting to get on his nerves. "It's my job."
"Why aren't you sleeping? It's been a long couple of days."
Rick's eyes settled on the bathroom door. Yes, long indeed. "I don't sleep."
A sudden silence filled his ear. "… H-have you talked to Dr. Wong about this?" The voice had lost its sharp edge, softening slightly, but noticeably.
"No." Rick simply answered, beginning to get irritated. "Forget it. I'm not fucking tired."
"I… fine. But seriously, where did you go? Mom heard the spaceship fly off and- well, she'd kill us if we said it out loud but she's really worried, I think."
Just promise you won't, okay?
Okay… yeah, promise.
Love you, dad.
Rick felt like throwing up. "I-I'm fine, Morty. Tell her not to worry- just out drinking, nothing I haven't survived before." Not even a lie, technically. "I'm not planning on doing anything… too drastic. It's all under control." He wasn't sure why he blurted that part out.
"… Uh, okay? That wasn't what I meant, but… Christ…" Fucking splendid. "First off, I thought you don't drink anymore-"
"You thought wrong." The scientist snapped harshly, patience wearing thin.
"Jeez- alright, alright. And uh, y-you left your portal gun here." Rick's flask froze midair as he listened to Morty fumble with his words while trying to keep an attitude. "I thought maybe- I dunno, kinda stupid. Forget it. Anyway-"
"What did you think?" It came out before he contemplated his words.
Morty sounded uncomfortable at that point. "You know, the thing with the crows happened again or something. Like you left the portal gun as a farewell gift like last time or some shit… not-not that I care."
"Right." The man exhaled, throat closing up with guilt. Morty was getting good at controlling, concealing -and unfortunately for his mental health- suppressing his emotions, but Rick could hear the hint of relief behind his words. He should've at the very least told Morty he was leaving.
But again, it was that little shit that couldn't keep a secret earlier that day.
"Rick. Is this about me ruining your 'be a hero' day? You know how petty that makes you?"
Like he could just read his mind.
"Morty, I could never be a hero." He spat out like an insult, letting his head fall back. "But I could make a hero out of a weak bastard like Pissmaster. I could bring that family some- some reassurance, I fucking guess? I-I'm tired of you saying it like I was fishing for fucking attention or-or external validation. I don't even know why I'm explaining myself to you!" He shook his head in frustration. He really didn't know.
"Cause my opinion matters to you?" It wasn't phrased like a question, more rhetorical. It was stated like a fact that was repeated for the thousandth time.
"I'm way past denying that." Rick muttered under his breath. Then louder. "Anyway, good talk. Good ni-"
"Woah, not so fast. Tell me where you're-"
Rick hung up.
He would go back and explain himself later. Or not. But right now, something tied him to this planet and he had no plan to leave soon. He'd checked on the dead person's family more than once, making sure they didn't suspect anything. He showed up at Pissmaster's funeral and consoled his daughter. Like he'd hoped, she was proud of him, telling the tales of his bravery to the ones who showed up with a fixed smile.
His eyelids barely met when the phone vibrated against the pocket of his pants. "God-fucking- dammit- Morty, leave me the fuck alone! Go masturbate or some shit- I dunno, whatever the fuck it is you do." He shouted at the phone. No sound came for moments, just enough for him to begin feeling bad to the slightest degree.
"Look," Rick took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I appreciate your concern for Beth, but she can handle herself. Are you upset? Angry? I can't tell over your yelling and fucking complaints. Just what the fuck do you want from me?" He stressed word by word.
"… Trying to determine your grandson's state of mind using basic therapy techniques, almost successfully. You're progressing, Rick."
"Dr. Wong?" The name rolled off Rick's surprised tongue.
"How are you doing? Better with your new solution, I hope?"
Rick pursed his lips. "Maybe… not that much. W-we'll talk about that later."
"There's a cancellation tomorrow."
"I'll be there."
"And bring Morty with you too."
"Why?" Rick drawled hesitantly. "Out of everything you've ever said, that doesn't make any fucking sense."
"There's a factor that I maybe, by chance didn't consider for your situation."
"No. Thera-" Rick coughed violently to cover his slip. He could imagine the woman raising an unimpressed eyebrow at that. "What we talk about in that confidential room stays there, between us. That's it. It'd be super fuckin' weird otherwise. There's just no, fucking, way."
"I understand and respect that… say, are you interested in a small bet?"
"How do I keep falling for that." Rick Sanchez deadpanned, sitting across the therapist in her neat office. "The oldest motherfucking trick in the book. It's like you start talking and a moment later I'm here again. With what you asked me."
"What did she ask you again?" Fingers folded in his lap, Morty eyed Rick with a frown.
"Morty." Dr. Wong addressed him with her usual soothing intone. "Thank you for joining us today and making time to be here."
The boy scratched the back of his neck . "Um, of course, Dr. Wong. I-I mean so far it's been how are you's and how's the family."
"FYI, the 'how are you' is an important part of the process." The older man huffed, leaning forward from his seat. "Have some respect, Morty."
The corner of Morty's mouth curled upward, eyebrows travelling high. "Right, of course. I-I apologize." Amusement colored his voice as he leaned back on the sofa.
"Rick, tell me what went wrong after you cancelled your appointment." Wong's voice made Rick avert his glare off of Morty. "The way you described it, you'd found a healthy solution to your concerns. What changed?"
Between her expectant silence and Morty's intrigued eyes on him, Rick's brain felt like it was being torn in two, stare intense and mouth hanging open. "Wait- you actually fucking expect me to talk while he's here?" Incredulously, he pointed at the brunet.
He hated her relaxed and calculating posture. "Yes, that's the idea." She calmly stated.
"I'm not saying jack shit, Wong."
"You're the one who brought me here, asshole." Morty's voice was laced with disbelief, offended at his rudeness.
"Just because she asked me to. I was ready to shoot myself before asking you-" Rick retorted in all his infamous sharpness.
"You're always ready to shoot yourself!" Morty argued loudly, cutting him off. He must've taken Rick's scowl as a challenge "What- y-you think no one came to the garage eventually after Unity? That I wouldn't recognize those red crystals after-after you taught me how they fucking work?! And before that- you seriously expect me to believe you'd sacrifice yourself for me? That you gave me the collar that worked because you cared? You can go to hell for all I care." He spat out in Rick's strained lack of expression. "Not that you'd mind."
Rick flattened his lips into a thin line, not breaking eye contact with an angry panting Morty.
"… Rick, does my request make sense to you now?"
"Morty, you don't have to stay." Rick told Morty, ignoring the therapist for now. "This isn't couple's therapy. Just leave now and save yourself the headache."
"Yeah you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Morty squinted, crossing his arms defensively. "Oh, I'm staying, Sanchez. I'm staying and I'm fucking listening. So go on, answer the damn question." He challenged, sitting back down.
A beat of silence passed, and the composed one spoke. "You owe your grandson an explanation, Rick. You owe him something, at least. Tell us what it is." Wong offered as a conversation starter.
"This is so dumb." Rick narrowed his eyes.
"Just say it." Morty regarded him, unimpressed. "Rip the band-aid off, you'll thank me later."
"You're not the therapist here."
"I was your therapist before you knew you needed therapy."
Dr. Wong nodded in Morty's direction. "Would you like to start, Morty? Start with why you're so angry at Rick."
"How about give me a reason not to be." Morty plainly suggested with a smile that could kill.
She wrote something down, humming encouragingly. "Go on."
"He's been dumping his trauma on me- and no, I'm not flattered by the way. That's fucking messed up man." The teen shook his head after glaring. "He, seriously needs to get his shit together, put it in a box and send it off on a plane, m-maybe dump it in the ocean if it won't kill off a few fish species."
Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, Rick sighed. "Dr. Wong, in the twenty minutes we've been here, we fought more than we have in three months. Tell me, is that a sign or no?"
Her hand paused in its movement and she looked up. "Fighting is good, Rick. Fighting means you haven't given up on each other."
His head fell back with an irritated grunt. "God, this is couple's therapy. Why did I ignore the signs?"
"I still don't know why I'm here." Morty admitted, shifting in his seat.
"So Rick, do you need me to repeat my question?" Her tone was steady and two sets of eyes were on him.
"Err…" He had a moment of contemplation before he said 'fuck it'. "I… nothing changed after I hung up. I-I went through the plan. I just got…" He regarded Morty warily. "Sad for no reason. It happens. It'll pass." He brushed it off with his hand.
"You don't get sad for no reason, Rick." Dr. Wong disagreed. "You're not going through puberty. Let's look into things that could've triggered you."
"Triggered me? Into fucking what?" Rick narrowed his eyes in bafflement, feeling a subconscious part of him tense up and become defensive. A part that didn't want to be discovered, even by himself. "I didn't come here to be spoken to in cryptic terms."
"There's a bigger picture here which I can't be seeing. I don't know every inch of your life, Rick." Dr. Wong tried to lightly reassure, hands resting on the sides of the armchair. "Your thoughts are more suppressed and filtered than you might think. If your reaction to this enemy's loss is unreasonable, it means it runs deeper in your past."
"Bullshit, no offense." Huffed the patient, fishing out the flask from his pocket. "Besides, Pissmaster wasn't even my enemy- I didn't even fucking- fucking know the guy."
She pursed her lips. "Then it's even worse. Have you ever lost a loved one, Rick?"
The tip of the flask froze on his lips, eyes staring ahead at the wall.
Has he?
Smiling faces haunted him, day and night, without him even noticing.
One small mistake.
One choice, and their bodies disintegrated into thin air.
A life could be taken that easily,
With a tick of a bomb.
A slide of a blade.
He'd watched the energy of their molecules scatter, ungraspable, unreachable.
Helpless, he was.
Rick couldn't bring them back.
Just like he couldn't bring that man back.
But he could save his family.
Because he couldn't save his own.
"Jesus- you don't just drop something like that on someone, Dr. Wong!" Rick heard Morty sharply bite out, putting a warm hand on his cold and frozen one.
Rick was too much of a genius to fool, especially by himself.
Managing a lie like that was a full-time job.
'I'm fine.'
He could practically hear the universe mocking him in all its elements.
"No." He found himself coolly saying. "Never lost anyone, Doc. Only those who didn't matter."
Because he truly never did.
Rick didn't lose people,
He killed them.
"What about your f-?" Morty started to voice out his confusion when Rick subtly stomped on his foot with his heel, shutting him up with a yelp.
Wong didn't seem disappointed at his negative response. "You empathize with Pissmaster in some way. You don't pity him. You somehow find your stories similar. Or both, you find him as pitiful as yourself." She paused at her patient- more like victim- pulling his mouth into a strained line. "Tell me, at what point did you decide you were staying?"
Just promise you won't, okay?
Okay… yeah, promise.
Love you, dad.
"Was it to give Pissmaster something you'd 'otherwise never get yourself'?"
"Yes. It was." Rick got out tightly, fists clenched and back muscles rigid. He was physically ready to take out an entire army.
But as corny as it was, the only enemies there were to fight were his inner demons.
"… Rick, you're quiet. Should I stop talking?"
The man in question came back to the present with a jolt. "Oh, what? No, no. I'm listening." He stammered out reassuringly.
"You're blind to what's happening around you, Rick. You walk the path your not-enemy did everyday. Yours just goes a longer way, but your destination's the same." Wong only stopped looking at him when she was writing down her observations.
Rick craned his neck incredulously. "To sum it up, you're saying I'm gonna kill myself soon. Wow, inspirational." He rolled his eyes in faux enthusiasm.
Morty- whom he almost forgot was sitting next to him- rearranged himself on the opposite side of the sofa. "Is she wrong?" He grumbled, looking at a random painting on the wall.
"Stop talking and I will reconsider, I promise you." Rick muttered back.
"Break the cycle." Dr. Wong said, looking at the moody scientist. "Don't let history repeat itself."
"Uh-huh." Rick raised a side of his unibrow. "And how do I do that?"
"Stop treating the people who care about you like shit."
He blinked wordlessly at the uncharacteristic use of cuss words. "And let me guess, you know exactly what goes on in their heads? Cause you're looking at Morty." Recovering quickly, Rick scrunched up his nose. "I can see how he's just bursting with his love for me." Dryly he pointed to his right with his chin.
Wong wasn't affected by his attempts to brush her off. "Did he disagree with me?"
The genius turned his head to make a sarcastic retort, but it died halfway in his throat. Instead of spitting something in his face again, Morty's eyes were on the ground, arms loosely hugging his hunched form.
The thing is, the harder you try for your gulp to sound natural, the louder it will come out.
"Believe it or not, you are each others' best friend right now." She continued despite the tension between the duo. "Morty, we already talked about your situation."
Eyes narrowing, Rick shook his head. "Wait- what situation?" Eyes darting to the brunet in question.
Scratching his arm, Morty refused to meet anyone's stare. "I-it's confidential!" His tone being defensive and slightly sharp.
"I'm probably responsible for it, huh." Rick dryly thought aloud…. Maybe not the best thing to say. "Whatever. Like I fucking care."
"And why are you reaching for the liquor in your flask?"
Cursing the therapist's casual words overall, he stopped his hand. "You know what, I think we can cut this session short here." He decided, standing up.
"One last thing." Wong bargained, not budging from her spot. "Sit down, Rick. You've come so far." Voice lightly colored with the tone of a mother encouraging her child to take the last of his medicine.
"Too far." The man scowled. "I'm not saying another fucking word."
"I won't be asking you that." She assured, pointing at a dejected Morty. "If you're not interested in a verbal disclosure, then walk up to this boy and hug him."
At that, Morty looked up, eyebrows furrowed. "Ew?"
"Why?" At the same time Rick cringed.
"What if I don't want him to-" The boy started, only to be cut off.
"Non-optional exercise, Morty."
"Fuck."
"Just sit still and try not to hit anyone." Dr. Wong offered, hands in a steeple.
Morty appeared to relent, though he was tenser than a few minutes ago. "Uh, I can do that."
"And Rick, will you?" She turned at him.
Head still spinning from the sudden request, Rick clenched his fists. He couldn't bring himself to look at his young companion. "No." He said through a set jaw. "I can't."
Wong craned her neck in the slightest. "And why is that? Have you never done this before?"
Shaking head no, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. "No, that's not the case here. You're just sitting here, looking at me like a fucking creep."
"May I make an assumption here?" The woman casually cleaned her glasses as he rolled his eyes and nodded. "You don't show your constipated affection and appreciation unless you're going through intense and usually violent emotions. For example when you almost lose Morty, after he goes through a near-death experience, after you go through a near-death experience, or when you generally think you're about to die." One palm rising to prove the truth in those words. "Now, does that sound healthy to either of you? Familiar, even?"
"Wow, she's nailin' it." Morty frowned.
Rick scrunched up his nose and crossed his arms. "Uh, excuse me? When the fuck else do you hug people?"
Taking a look at her wristwatch, she stood up, one of the few movements she'd had the entire time. "Well, that concludes our session. You can schedule your next visit with Judy up front."
"We still had fifteen minutes." Rick grumbled once they exited the building into the nightly rain. "Who the fuck is she tryna rip off?"
"I think she was just tired of hearing you talk." Morty thought aloud as they walked side by side.
The blue-haired one eyed him from the corner of his vision. "That's make the two of you then, right?" He scoffed, throwing his hands unto his pockets. "Cause you had enough of my shit? Go on. Open communication here."
Morty didn't try to think of a comeback, nervously biting his lip. "Right."
Rick raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment further on it, looking ahead.
They continued to silently walk under the soft rain, the smell of rain combined with everything else hanging in the air. Almost as if it amplified and intensified color, the water washed off the dust off of objects and gave them life.
Something nagged at him, though. The quiet was one of the unusual types, even for them. "I was Pissmaster." He quietly blurted out.
"Yeah, I know." Sighed the younger one.
Rick pursed his lips, contemplating whether to expand on that or not. "No, I mean I am Pissmaster. Literally. Wong was right. I relate to him too much to be normal. And that…" He briefly trailed off, but took a deep breath when Morty nodded him on. "That shit stings, Morty. But I-I don't wanna go into it that much- wanna stop using you as the uh, trashcan for my trauma. You have enough of that."
"Nah, it's fine." Morty exhaled. "As long as I'm in the loop most of the time, you can tell me anything."
"A-and I… sorry I just left like that." Rick frowned and added, running a hand through his wet hair. "I wasn't really thinking, so to speak."
"You could've talked to me. Y-you still can. Not just when shit goes wrong." He scolded.
Morty's rant in the office rang in his mind again, replaying in all its heat and fury. "I do care about you." He blurted out, eyes narrowing at his grandson as his widened. "How fucking dumb must you be not to fucking know that already?! Geez, teenagers." He rolled his eyes, looking away to cover his embarrassment. "The shit you said though- uh, they won't happen again."
"They better not." Morty threatened. "Or I'll clone you and kill you myself, you selfish cunt."
"Easy tiger." A smirk overtook Rick's expression. "You still wouldn't need me either way. Don't forget that."
The teen regarded him with incredulity and a scowl, drops of rain streaming from his face. "I seriously can't believe you- you still sound like you're gonna do something fucked up!"
Just promise you won't, okay?
"I promise I won't!" Rick held up his palms in surrender and loudly promised. "I swear! Just, clearing things up."
The déjà vu though…
With one last warning glare, their walk became almost peaceful again. Almost. "So uh, you never told Wong about…" Morty trailed off, eyeing him expectantly.
It made him tense up to remember. "What?" Sharply, he bit out.
"N-nothing." Morty mumbled, shrinking. "Forget it."
Rick tried to swallow the guilt down, but it stayed there. Inhaling fresh air that might as well be poison, hesitantly he wrapped an arm around the other's shoulder. "No, Morty."
Just one word. He'd spoken aloud of his dear family only one word, but the exposure already felt unbearable, burning and aching.
Morty looked taken back by the sudden change of attitude and honesty. "Oh. I-I think it could've been an important detail, Rick."
"She'd be telling me everything I already know." He sighed, somehow bitterly. "I-I know what the fuck's going on with me. I just don't wanna acknowledge it most of the time."
"… Are you okay, Rick?"
"Are you?" Pointedly the man muttered.
"Good question." He mumbled back.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Rick held the young one tighter. "I-I love you, buddy. Wong thinks she knows everything." He huffed.
"Let me guess, you disagree." Amusedly the boy spoke.
"Fuck yeah. Disagreeing's my strong suit."
"Believe me, I know." They shared a small snort.
"So the couple's therapy didn't work." Rick scoffed, kicking a puddle of water.
Morty regarded him with a tilted head and a raised eyebrow. "Looks like it did."
It was embarrassing that it took him a minute. "Oh, shit."
Scoffing while shaking his head, Morty stopped in his tracks to unexpectedly embrace the tall one in a hug.
The warmth of the gesture caught him off guard, freezing him where he was standing.
As much as he hated to admit it, Dr. Wong was right about him hugging people where the adrenaline rush seemed to handle things. Right now he felt, and that wasn't in his top ten list of most enjoyable things to do.
Because he hated how vulnerable an action such as a hug made him feel, how tightly he wanted to hold and be held in return. He despised that that his body stopped obeying him and teared up against his will, forming tight knots around his throat which suffocated him into succumbing to the surge of sensations.
"Goddammit." He tightly gritted out, wide eyes blurred over.
"Non-optional exercise, Rick." Morty whispered, copying what the therapist had told him. "Suck it up."
A half chuckle escaped him as he gave in and enveloped the cocky little shit with all his will. "Will you ever stop pissing me off?"
"It's my job, asshole."
Everything was okay.