It was just Mortimer and Rock today. Merty was off spreading his glittery magic all throughout the house while the two were busy at the Citadel today. Building clones and whatnot to get Rick’s soul back from the devil. But they needed the time to go and get Mortimer’s clone up and ready with the right tech. They didn’t want it to be SUB-PAR to the original after all.
His question did grab Rock’s attention EASILY. Mortimer wondered if the bullet wound he’d taken to the shoulder was still hurting. Still ACHING. Out of everyone that had helped Rock out back then, Mortimer was the only one who was left in the DARK. He had no idea who or why Rock had been shot and what TERRIBLE and HORRIBLE soul thought that shooting Rock was a good idea. They probably had nothing to lose and no kindness in their heart whatsoever.
“It was my original dimension’s Jerry.” His reply made Mortimer’s thought process STOP. He nearly drops the little goopy baby in his arms from the shock. “I had gone back home to tell them that my Morty, their son, was dead. Jerry didn’t....they didn’t take it well...” His hand raises to his side, gripping the old wound with a near submissive look. It wasn’t good for Rock. Mortimer didn’t like that LOOK.
Or his Jerry.
Damn he really wished he KNEW Rock’s dimension number.
“Because of your Morty....” Mortimer knew only SOME of the story involving Rock’s Morty. Something about a war and something with his Morty getting caught in the crossfire. It was a difficult topic for Rock to talk about sometimes; Mortimer could understand the sentiment. “Rock...I....I don’t know the entire story for that....” Again, Rock freezes, growing incredibly uneasy. “Uh...if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay-”
“It was a war....a revolution more like it. The slaves of this one planet needed someone to help them and i wanted that glory. I took over as planner, captain, and Morty had to tag along for the ride. He didn’t want ANY part in it, even when he agreed with me. Slavery is just....” He trails off, hands going into tight fists. Rock’s hands find two sets of goggles, running his thumb over the lenses of one, trying to wipe a SMEAR off the glass.
“During a raid one night....someone saw us. Another fight broke out and Morty got shot. I...I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that I had to get him out of there.” One pair is set in Mortimer’s free hand; Mortimer toting the goopy little clone of himself towards one of the vats. It was already FILLED with the secretion that’ll both help store the clone and AGE it up to the right age. “By the time my feet hit the soil of a different planet, he was already gone....”
Rock was breaking down in front of him. The goggles nearly hit the ground when tears began to fall down his face and Mortimer sealed off the vat quickly to scurry up to Rock’s side. He carefully laid his hand on Rock’s shoulder, looking at him in a poor attempt at being consoling.
“I....I just can’t....sometimes I wake up and see my Morty in you two and I just...it’s all m-my fault.” His words were becoming broken apart by soft SOBS that tried to escape from him; his hand lifting to cover whatever noises. “I-I’m doing whatever I can to-to keep you boys safe and-”
“Rock...” Mortimer cuts him off this time, TIRED of this and TIRED of Rock tearing himself apart over all of this. “You’re a good person. Instead of getting another Morty, you CHOSE to remain alone and suffer. You’ve done so well Rock...you’re doing AMAZING with both Merty and I and even RICK.” Mortimer offers a weak smile in response to Rock’s sad and defeated look. “We’re gonna get Rick back and then everything will be okay again. Promise.”
There.
A small smile came, tiny at first but getting progressively bigger. Peeling his gloves off, Mortimer TOSSED them over his shoulder to tug Rock close to give him a hug. “It’ll be OKAY.”
“I’m supposed to be the one consoling you.” Rock laughs gently, returning the embrace. “You’re a good kid, Mortimer. Thank you.” Drawing away from him, Rock pulls the goggles over his face and heads over towards the console, the one that would grow the baby up to full size. “Let’s get this show on the road then!!”
Mortimer stands there for a few more moments, staring at Rock through half-lidded eyes. Had he not gotten to know Rock before learning the story, Mortimer would have probably made it his MISSION to make Rock pay for getting his Morty into this mess. In a way, Mortimer was glad that he and Rock were so close for him to know how it all went down. Rock cared about him. Rock cared about Merty and Rick and every single animal in the backyard and in the house. Rock had a heart for everyone he met and would care regardless of who or what they were. This was his REDEMPTION.
This new way of acting was Rock’s way of making up for what happened. And Mortimer was lucky to be seeing it first hand.
“Yeah. Let’s get this shit done.”
This was definitely going to become a memory. Mortimer wanted to remember this interaction for the rest of his damn LIFE.
“Statistics Mortimer. Most-- most Mortys don't make it to adulthood when they are in contact with a Rick.” Rick’s reply had echoed through the speakers of the laptop screen. “I thought-- ha-- I thought I was keeping you safe.” His finger hits the pause button, his one organic eye gazing over the screen of the laptop. Over Rick’s FACE.
Since the DISCOVERY of Rick being his actual grampa, Mortimer didn’t have one CHANCE to talk to him about it since then. Rick was so busy these days; nobody in the family had been able to keep him around for long before he was off again. Even Rock. Mortimer himself couldn’t even get a WORD out of him before he left.
It was almost like Rick was AVOIDING him...
Mortimer’s finger taps at the desk slowly, face twisted into a thoughtful frown. Rick wouldn’t avoid him for that, right? All because his ACTUAL grandkid wanted to talk to him about everything. What he was like. How he acted as a kid. More on why he left. If he ever tried to FIND him...well....now that he thought about it, those would be some pretty HARSH memories for Rick to dig up. But Mortimer still couldn’t believe that was reason for his constant disappearances.
Finally, Mortimer hits the rewind button, backing the memory back to the beginning. It wasn’t too long, but he wanted to ingrain this whole conversation into his head. It was something he NEVER wanted to forget.
---
The memory itself took place after an argument between Mortimer and Rick. Rick had outright been LYING to him about what was wrong. And Mortimer knew something was bugging him and Rick just wasn’t fessing up. It resulted in Mortimer storming away in a near frenzied HUFF with Merty tailing behind him.
The beginning of the disc is normally skipped, mostly because the majority of it was Merty’s encouraging talk with Mortimer and the walk of shame to the basement when Rock comes to get him for Rick. It was all just FILLER CONTENT, even if Merty did help him feel considerably better. What a good boyfriend.
“Pop a squat.” Rick’s voice is the first thing Mortimer hears when he resumes the tape. Rick stands in Mortimer’s field of view, a flask in one hand and a needle for blood in the other. He face looks sullen and gone; already DRUNK but considerably nervous at the same time.
“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to keep drinking?” His voice was so full of SASS at the time, but Mortimer makes a face when Rick replies with a low ‘both’ and draws the blood from his arm with the needle. It’s offered to him, and Mortimer takes it into his grip regardless. Here, he turns to the machine, plugging the needle in like a cord and loading the sample into the machine.
The numbers on the screen only served to HAUNT him.
It all blew up there. A flurry of back and forth of demands, of angry tones and SELF-JUDGEMENT.
“Why’d...why’d you LEAVE?” Mortimer’s voice is strained, quiet, and so very low. Rick’s own voice is just as broken, just as quiet and torn apart at the seems.
"Statistics, Mortimer. Most-- most Mortys don't make it to adulthood when they are in contact with a Rick. I thought-- ha-- I thought I was keeping you safe. It's all my fault Mortimer. If I hadn't been so ff-fucking scared of coming back, you'd... you wouldn't have..." He starts to break up here, emotions FLOODING to him in a sea of repressed thoughts and memories. He’d come to terms with losing his Morty so long ago. And now...now he was BACK. A pathetic, destroyed version of who he USED to be.
“Hey....you couldn’t have known this all would have happened.” He gestures to himself here; for everything’s that he’s gone through with his First Rick, the hell with the Council...all of it. “There’s no WAY you would have known-”
“I could have CHECKED MORTIMER!” Mortimer is swiftly cut off by Rick’s outburst; angry eyes turned on Mortimer and his flask falls from shaking hands. “I could have done something.“
“What could you have done...” Mortimer’s voice goes low, dangerously so. It causes Rick’s own look to soften here. “You would have seen your grandkid as a fucking SCIENCE experiment. You would have seen him missing his goddamn eye with his head cut open too many times to count.” His voice continues to raise, anger starting to catch up to him. “WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE TO FIX IT?!” he stops here, slamming his eyes shut and tightening his hands into fists at his side. He had to FORCE himself to calm down and make his tone leveled again. “It’s all in the past now...what’s done is done....”
“You’re here now...and that’s all I could ever ASK for...”
“Mortimer?” His head cranes away at the screen at the sound of Rock’s voice. The older man is leaning in through the doorway, staring at him curiously. To keep him from seeing the laptop screen, he closes the lid and removes his headphones off his ears, spinning around in his chair to face him. “Uh...dinner’s ready...”
“Rock. When’s he coming back?” His tone is dead set on being serious. He knew Rock didn’t know the answer to that. If he knew, he’d be COUNTING the days waiting for his husband to come back. “I only just....” His shoulders slump and Rock steps into the basement completely to approach Mortimer. He felt so SMALL and insignificant right now under his gaze.
“If I knew, I’d tell you. We all miss him...” His hand lands on Mortimer’s shoulder. He had so many QUESTIONS he wanted to ask Rick, but the guy just seemed so good at vanishing without a trace these days. It just...HURT. These questions would continue to go on unanswered. “Chin up. He’ll come back.”
When he found this disc, he knew he had to watch it. The only thing that set it apart from the rest of them was the dried bloody marks on it. Mortimer didn’t know the cause, but he knew it must be seen. The entire set up to WATCH IT was a process; unlike the rest of them, THIS ONE had a five-digit passcode that needed to be broken.
Buuut since he’d been the one who MADE THE DISC, it was easy to crack.
Currently, the television was FROZEN on Lil Mort’s face, which meant he hadn’t actually filmed this scene with his eye. His arms were up reaching past the lenses, possibly fiddling around with the camera. It gave Mortimer a chance to EXAMINE his younger form. Sullen eyes, looking absolutely exhausted, a sour, yet focused scowl on his face, and blood.
There was so much blood covering his clothes and arms.
From wartching the last two videos, Mortimer only hoped this would end somewhat satisfying. He sincerely doubted it would, but he had SOME optimism. Dropping down onto the couch, Mortimer reached out to take the remote. With Rock still healing from the gunshot wound, both grandpas were up to their ears with business. Merty, himself, had holed himself up in the basement, having kidnapped all animals in the house for whatever reason.
Which left Mortimer all by his lonesome.
Mortimer unpaused the television. Almost instantly, the sound of a heart meter filled the speakers and, by extension, the entire room itself.
---
“Aaaand...there. Nice.” Lil Mort leans away from the screen, looking on with dull eyes. It appeared hee hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. “See Rick? I told you I could get it working....” Lil Mort steps off-screen, REVEALING the gruesome scene that lay behind him.
His First Rick sat STRAPPED to a chair, his head opened up and FILLED with wires and connectors. A long stream of drool oozed from his open mouth while cords hung from the ceiling, hooked up to the wires hanging from his eye. Every now and then, electricity was SHOT through the wires and into his body, causing him to go RIGID before falling slack again.
Mortimer couldn’t believe it. He thought he LOST this tape!
His younger form struts back into view behind Rick, humming a delightful tune. In his arms, he held a box of an assortment of items. Surgical plates, a screwdriver, a drill, ect ect. All tools little Mort could use to put the old man’s head back together. It’s an even LONGER process putting him back to one piece. Normal surgery doctors had a whole team to help, but Lil Mort only had himself. Of course, he manages JUST FINE by himself and Mortimer himself is amazed at how TALENTED he was when he was younger.
When he was done, Lil Mortimer dutifully bandages up Rick’s head, smiling slightly. Peeling the bloodied gloves off his arms, he swiftly disconnected the wires that connected to Rick’s own. In the span of a few minutes, Lil Mort took the time to clean up his grotesque mess, shedding his clothes in favor of grabbing a clean pair. The last step, however, was pulling a chair up in front of Rick. “Oh how the tides have changed, huh?” Li Mort drops into the seat across from Rick, scooting closer to peer up into his face.
Goodness, he was about to get EDGY.
“You made so many MISTAKES.” Lil Mort untucks the wires from his own eye, carefully attaching them together. “Should have paid more attention. Should have kept a better eye on your PERFECT LITTLE SOLDIER.” There was a rush of tension erupting the second the circuits touched. Oh, how he wondered what was going on through Rick’s head at this exact moment. He’d be angry, SCREAMING at the top of his lungs and TRYING to fight him every step of the way.
But he couldn’t.
And it sent a sick and TWISTED THRILL through him.
“You’ve put me through a lot....torture of both mental and physical pain.” Lil Mort’s voice was incredibly low, eyes narrowed as he glared at the slumped form of Rick. He didn’t even NEED a name anymore. Rick was a PUPPET. No longer HUMAN. “And now look at you. A once proud Rick now at the total and complete mercy of his own Morty. How that must-” A shot of electricity cut him off, coarsing through his veins and nearly causing him to cry out. “-th-that must tear you APART, huh?”
Lil Mort was met with silence. Rick couldn’t reply; he didn’t have the power anymore. This was already a lot better. He could now control whenever Rick opened his mouth, and when and where he could walk at any given time. All of his actions were now Lil Mort’s. With this ENTIRE MANIPULATION, Mortimer was now the BOSS.
“We’re done. But believe me when I tell you...” He stands from his seat, hand wrapping around the conjoined wires and YANKING them apart. Sparks shot out upon the disconnection, Mortimer carefully placing his new accessory over his eye. “I control when you DIE. You’re nothing but a puppet. And know this....I will make you PAY for everything you’ve DONE.” He turns away here, heading back towards the camera to shut it off, a spring in his step.
He didn’t know how to feel at this exact moment. While there were feelings of PRIDE welling in his chest, he couldn’t help but think it was a little DEMENTED with how he dealt with the situation. Especially since Mortimer still found himself MANIPULATING RICKS this way. Old habits died hard, Mortimer guessed.
Eventually, he stands, wandering over to get the disc out of the DVD player. Tucking it away, Mortimer seemed a bit more...PLEASED with the situation. He was past that. He was no longer LIVING with Rick or his terrible manipulations. Mortimer was FREE. And with this freedom, Mortimer used to it grow, to BETTER himself. To find his own FAMILY.
“It’s fine guys...Really.” Standing at the front of the living room, blocking the family from entering, Mortimer REFUSED to let any of them in. These discs were nothing like the one he let the see. “Listen. These are personal...” Rick gave him a look. “If it gets too bad, I’ll call for you guys...okay?” The family shares another look before dispersing.
Rock and Rick head into the backyard, Zim and Morty take a seat in the kitchen, but Merty lingers. He looks worried; he knows about these memories for Mortimer TOLD him about them and who it was involved in them. So Mortimer couldn’t BLAME him for his uncertainty. “Trust me Merty. I promise I’ll call.” It didn’t seem to help, but he does leave to join Rick and Rock
But only AFTER leaving a loving kiss on his cheek.
When they all left, Mortimer takes a seat on the floor, pressing the button to play the tap. Briefly, Dante zipped through the room, darting outside to join the rest of the family. It probably wasn’t a good idea to watch this thing on a day they chose to do a barbecue. At least they all promised to stay out until he was done watching-
----
“MORTIMER!!” He JUMPED in alarm at the sound of Rick’s yell. Younger Mort jumped off his cot, scrambling out of his room, down the darkened halls of the Monolith, and into the room where Rick was waiting. He looked less than pleased as the younger approached. “One of the subjects escaped. I need them found.”
“Okay...okay...” Lil Mort pulls out his gun, a pistol, and quickly makes his escape out of the room. He liked spending as little time with Rick as possible. For many REASONS. Thankfully, following the path of the escapee was easy. In their escape, they left behind obvious PRINTS that led him right to them.
Meaning the BLOOD.
Every step brought him closer to the escapee. They seemed to collapse somewhere, whatever wound they sported dragging them down. Gun drawn, Mortimer stepped around the final corner, words suddenly DYING on his lips when he saw just who it was bleeding out on the floor.
Jessica?
He was frozen in place, shock written across his features like a NOVEL. She hadn’t even noticed him yet, breath coming out harshly as she held onto her stomach. She looked terrible. Clothes were torn and dirtied by blood and grin, and even MORE leaked past her fingers, staining the floor underneath her. And her eyes...her eyes were red and puffy as she fought to keep her sobbing under control. Lil Mort clears his throat, her attention snapping to him in an instant.
“GET AWAY FROM....M-Morty?” Her scream of fear was so suddenly cut short when she REALIZED who it was standing in front of her. “Oh...Oh my god. Morty!” She shot to her feet in an instant, arms wrapping around him and YANKING him close for a hug. “Your grandpa Rick....He grabbed me and stuffed me here! Along with so many more people. We have...” She cut herself off to sob, doubling over as fear swept through her. “We have to get out of here!”
“There’s....” He finally found his voice. “There’s no way out of here...” Believe him...he’s TRIED. Earned himself a few forced upgrades for his attempts too. Okay. Okay calm down. Lil Mort had to KILL Her or detain her. He shouldn’t help her. He CAN’T help her. “But...there’s another way....” He adored the way she perked up. “Come on.”
Taking her hand in his, LIl Mort hastily led her through the halls, keeping out of sight of Rick’s crab cronies. With how much she had to be hurting, their pace is slow, but Lil Mort is certain she won’t die of blood loss. But where they’re headed isn’t far, so they make it to the room in record time.
“An escape pod?” Jessica’s voice is quiet, but her earlier look of terror was replaced by HOPE. Lil Mort is the furthest thing from calm, even as her hand leaves his to wander over to the pod. “This is...we can escape! Morty this is great!” With dainty hands, she pries the door open, peering into the, relatively comfortable, space.
That’s when he heard it.
Footsteps. And approaching QUICKLY by the sound of it.
Lil Mort shot into action, darting after Jessica...only to SHOVE her into the escape pod, slamming the door shut behind her. Jessica YELPED, hands catching herself before she had the chance to fall. “Morty? Morty!” She turns around to face him, laying her hands on the solid glass. “Morty! What are you-” She freezes, eyes widening as she stares PAST him.
“Mortimer...” Rick’s voice is pure, unadulterated RAGE. “You little piece of...what the FUCK do you think you’re DOING?!” Lil Mort’s eyes dart between Rick and Jessica, fear settling hard and heavy in his chest. Rick catches his eyes look towards the console that launched the escape pod. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!”
But Mortimer is already in motion, hand SLAMMING over the launch button just as a BULLET passes through him.
“MORTY!!!” Jessica’s scream echoes on in the room, even as the escape pod launches her to safety on the outskirts of this planet. This DIMENSION even. Lil Mort could fell his blood pouring out from the new hole in his chest. His legs turn to jelly underneath him; he’s only able to stay standing because of the console he’d taken to holding. Unfortunately, a hand SCRUFFS him, bony fingers digging into the back of his nape as he’s dragged out of the room. Blood loss works quickly enough to AFFECT his want to FIGHT BACK.
“Fucking piece of SHIT.” Lil Mort is thrown back into his room, head smacking into the operation table in the dead center. Rick blocks the exit, approaching him and giving him NO TIME to retaliate before he’s pinning him to said table, grabbing for his bone cutter in the process. “I think it’s about time you FEEL WHAT THAT DAMN KILL SWITCH IN YOUR HEAD DOES!!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“MERTY!!!” Mortimer’s hands fly to his face, blocking out the view and SOUNDS of the cutters as they GRIND AND TEAR their way through skin, muscle, and his very bones. He barely has time to REGISTER the sounds of hasty footsteps before the sound cuts out. Mortimer is vaguely aware of the body joining him on the floor.
“Easy...easy...” Merty’s voice came as a blessing, hands laying across his face and drawing him back to the front of his mind. Back into full consciousness. “You’re okay...I’m here...it’s all okay....” Carefully, his hands are pried off his eyes; when he checks, the screen of the television had been reduced to static.
The remainder of the family is peering in at them from the kitchen entryway.
He’s safe...he’s okay...Rick was dead. He was gone.
There weren’t a lot of memory discs he’d found back at the Monolith and Mortimer knew that WATCHING them wouldn’t end well. Of course, there was the off-chance that there MIGHT be something useful from them, so he opted to watch only THREE of them. Mortimer just wondered if he mentally PREPARED for the outcome.
Mortimer could hear Rookie busying himself away in the garage, obviously working hard at whatever Rick was having him do while he and Rock were away. His feet propped up on the coffee table, with a raptor buried in on his left, Ripley on his right, and Sylvie happily napping on his lap, Mortimer felt like he was truly ready to tackle whatever was on these.
Mostly.
Maybe.
Probably not.
It was obviously going to take awhile for the discs to load, seeing as the damn thing was so old. There were a few that had been in the box that had, unfortunately, been broken or corrupted. Both of which he would have refused to let them go through his mind. The television went to static, fuzzing angrily as the last of the video was downloaded into the scree n.
The following noise that followed made his brow raise slowly. Was that...Rick?
---
Yeah, it was. But it was the CORPSE of the President of the United States he stood over. He grinned SNIDELY as the Vice President cowered in the far corner of the room. From his location, Mortimer in the memory had to have been sitting on one of the couches, obviously blood-stained with a bat leaning on the couch beside him. Rick’s focus switched towards the Vice President, approaching him slowly.
“Heyy...calm down. Calm down...” He crooned, stuffing the gun away in favor of grabbing a different one. One Mortimer could recognize. “You’re not gonna fucking DIE like he did. Just stay still-” Mortimer’s gaze flicks away towards the wall, sounds of a scuffle happening off screen nearby the President’s desk. “Mortimer!” Rick’s voice pops up. “Here. Now.”
Without complaint, Mortimer gets up from the couch, wandering over to the Vice President and Rick. Rick had the VP pinned to the floor underneath him, forehead bleeding from where the manipulator chip was attached. “You should know the drill.” With a shaking hand, as this was never easy, Mortimer’s fingers press in to the outside grooves of his eye, pushing in to carefully EASE the thing completely out of his skull. Rick wasted no time with WRENCHING Mortimer’s head down to disconnect the wire, swiftly reconnecting the ones in Mortimer’s skull to the chip.
Organic eye clenching shut for the oncoming pain, Mortimer shook as a rush of electricity shot through his brain, down his spine, and right into the ends of his nerves. This same volt shot through the Vice President, making his entire body go RIGID from shock. Somewhere during the process, Rick stood by the office desk, rifling through its contents for whatever reason. The tremors stopped, Mortimer hurriedly TEARING the wires apart despite getting his fingertips nicked by sparks.
“C’mon Mortimer.” Rick spoke up again, firing a portal into the office. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The disc cuts out, static taking over the screen completely. At first, Mortimer thinks the disc was DONE, but a woman’s voice speaks up, quickly putting that thought down,
“The president, once the Vice President after the horrible slaughter of their predecessor, Mister David, has now accepted the surrender of Europe, therefore making him the d-dictator of the world.” The screen flashed, showing the reporter on yet another television screen. Just off the corner of the screen, Mortimer could see a GUN aiming at the woman. Whatever room the younger Mortimer found himself in, a bunker by the looks of it, it was blocked off in every direction.
The door suddenly slammed open. Rick came stalking in with a HEAVY SNARL on his lips; even now, knowing he was DEAD, Mortimer shrunk up a bit on the couch. “Come on Mortimer. We gotta...gotta get the fuck outta this dimension. Right now. Let’s go.” His hand SNATCHED Mortimer by his wrist, yanking him off the couch and dragging him out of the bunker-like building.
“Wait....we’re just abandoning this dimension?” Eyebrows shooting upwards, Mortimer gave one last look around. With the Vice President in charge, all nuclear warheads of the WORLD set to go off, Mortimer still felt like he had been given the losing hand.
Why can’t Rick just let him DIE?
“Dimension-jumping is just a fucking cheap tactic to ignore your mistakes, Mortimer.” Rick snapped as he dragged Mortimer along behind him. “None this is a mistake.” He paused in his speedy gait to look out across the remains of the destroyed earth. Corpses loitered the ground, the military stormed the streets... “Any minute now, our friend will activate the switch to completely NUKE this place. We have to go. NOW.” The sound of a portal opening registers in his ears.
Mortimer sends an almost longing look towards the sky. He’d been forced to spend a few years of his life here, all of which felt like a MILLENNIA to him. Unending. it hadn’t been ANYTHING like his original family and the one good thing here was WIPED out. Summer... What seemed like hundreds of shooting stars suddenly FIRED up into the air, trailing plumes of smoke in their wake. Rick yelled something at him, but Mortimer merely took a few more steps away from him.
He could have made it further if Rick hadn’t grabbed him and dragged him into the portal. Even if he wanted to die....Rick wouldn’t let him. Quite the life he was forced to live....
“Mortimer!” Rookie’s voice registers in his head, STARTLING him to the point of nearly falling off the couch in his shock. He scrambles to turn the television off, shooting a glare at the cop from over his shoulder. He just now entered the door frame, face black from soot and grime. “I need your help with something! Like....right now. Please?”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” He huffs, ejecting the disc and setting it on top of the DVD player. “Just don’t scare me like that again. Jesus, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” No other words were spoken between the two as Mortimer followed him towards the garage. He guessed that Rookie might have seen SOME of the tape...but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Another day alone meant another day watching fucked up home videos made by yours truly.
With a bit of effort, Mortimer tucked himself up along the couch, burrowing himself into the soft cushions and pillows. The screen of the television flickered dimly as the DVD player loaded the memory into its data banks. Now a few days after the wedding, Mortimer found himself STUCK at home more often than he wanted to with this wound on his head.
The disk he’d loaded into the DVD was old and covered in dust when he had found it. Mortimer figured ut was of a memory long ago. Back then, before he took to the free range, he’d never LABEL any of the memories he’d made.
Especially when he was with his First Rick.
Who knows how he’d react if he found out was on those tapes.
Mortimer’s attention was grabbed once again as the sound of GIGGLING came through the tv. It was young, soft, and...a different change of pace...
“Come on Morty!! Let’s go!” Beth’s voice came through, gentle and giddy with glee. “We don’t want to be late!” Jumping off the chair he’d been sitting in, the little boy with which the video was recorded through POPPED up in front of a mirror.
Morty Smith looked to be about six, missing one of his front teeth, which confirmed Mortimer’s suspicion. The younger version of Mortimer smiled in the mirror, adjusting his clothes with a few pats of his hands. All ready for the day, huh kiddo?
Exiting his room quickly, the little boy ran down the stairs, almost tripping a much younger Summer in the process. She snaps at him, but he pays her no mind as he rushes to meet his mother at the door.
Mortimer did remember the good relationship he had with his original parents....
Beth’s hand is held out towards little Mortimer as he approaches, his hand slipping easily into hers. There’s a distant goodbye from Jerry in the backyard and it’s returned by the two only a second before they make their hasty escape out the front door.
Outside, it’s bright, illuminated, and warm; the light forces little Mortimer to block out some of the sun with his tiny, unoccupied hand. Beth pauses briefly when they reach the sidewalk to pull a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and pop them over his eyes. “There you go, Morty. is that better?”
“Thanks mama!” Comes his squeaky reply. The tones makes Mortimer CRINGE on the couch.
The two continue on their determined path, chatting about something that Mortimer couldn’t keep track of in his current state. His gaze drifts away from this BORING MEMORY, letting his attention fall on Dante as the little raptor bites and tears at the packaging of bacon that Mortimer had dropped on the floor for him. All the while, the television continued to play the memory. It got to the point it all sounded like one, white noise.
“MORTY!!!” Beth’s sudden scream immediately TORE Mortimer’s gaze back to the television. Through little Mortimer’s eyes, the older could SEE a car tearing down the street towards him. The younger was quickly RIPPED out of the path of the car by a pair of arms; the brakes SCREECHED as the driver slammed on them.
“Morty! Morty are you okay?!” Beth was in a frenzy, checking her small son over worriedly, despite little Mortimer’s protests.
“I’m fine mama! Promise!” He whines, the noise breaking off into a bubble of airy laughter as a flurry of kisses lands on his cheeks, his foreheads, everywhere that his terrified mother could reach. Bystanders nearby flocked to the duo, the driver included, to check on them, to worry, to APOLOGIZE.
“I got you Morty...I have you....” Beth promised, over and over again. “So long as I’m around, no one will ever hurt you...”
The memory ended there, leaving Mortimer sitting there on the couch. His hands GRABS for the remote, rewinding the video to LISTEN to the last words Beth had said...just ONE MORE TIME.
“No one will ever hurt you...”
The remote slips from his hands. His shoulders start SHAKING as his eyes scrunch up to fight off the wave of incoming TEARS that want to come. He thought of his original Beth and Jerry, wondering how easily they moved on without him. How they REACTED after he was FORCIBLY RIPPED away from them when he was younger.
Did they even REMEMBER HIM?!
Probably not...probably not.
“No The old Council probably had him replaced. Gave them a new Morty to give their love. Maybe even DESTROYED that reality. He didn’t know. All Mortimer could remember was that they didn’t do anything to even TRY to find him...even if they couldn’t in any way.
No Rick. No teleportation....
By the time Rick or Rock came home, Mortimer was still sitting on the couch, shoulders trembling from withheld SOBS; the television crackled and FIZZLED with static. His face was BURIED in his hands, smearing the tears out of his eyes as he fought to get a hold of himself.
“Is this doing much for you?” Her voice is pure silk, her eyes the color of a million interdimensional sunsets, and her smile...it was a shame, Mortimer decided, that this relationship was only for one thing. “Do you like the look? The weight? The TOUCH?” Her hands slid over his, holding them in place. Had he actually thought more of her, Mortimer would have flushed.
“Yeah....Saronia. The gun is fine. But I still want to do this without raising any alarm.” The beauty pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. Mortimer lowers the weapon into his lap. “We don’t want everyone KNOWING what we’re up to until it’s time.” His reasoning seems to please her, for Saronia leans back with a content grin easily taking over her earlier pout.
“So you’re thinking...a knife?” A knife? Yeah. That would work just fine. It would be HIM who would be getting the closest to her tonight. Mortimer only had ONE CHANCE to do this right. “Because I have plenty of those too.” She slid off the bed, smoothing out her clothes as she approached her dresser. Her long braided hair, blue as the ocean, was pulled into a loose bun. It showed off the tattoo...no, the BRAND on the back of her neck. It was a solid, painful reminder of why he agreed to do this.
For the DEATH of the woman who did this to her.
“I have a few serrated ones. I have one that can take in a TOXIN that’ll kill them slowly if you miss the first stab. Oh! And this one is my FAVORITE!”
“Ma’am...” A voice pops up from behind the door, timid and nervous. “I-It’s time.” Mortimer and Saronia share a knowing look. It’s time.
---
“Thank you all for coming tonight!!” Her voice BOOMED across the expensive ballroom. Saronia’s mother was just as beautiful as she sounded. Her hair was cut to the scalp, a missing leg replaced bionically, and her eyes were razer sharp and GOLDEN. She was dangerous. She was ONE to be FEARED.
She was going to die tonight.
“As you all may know, my successor has taken on a mate!” The horde of murderers cheered, clashing their bodies together as they yelled. “And he’s been with us for nearly a MOON now. Tonight, he will be joining our ranks!” Another roar sounded from the crowd, louder than before. It made his ears ring. Saronia gave his hand a squeeze to calm HERSELF down.
Why was she nervous?
“Approach...” Talia’s voice commanded him; Mortimer drops a kiss to Saronia’s hand, to play the part, before approaching the feared LEADER of this Branch. “Mortimer Smith, human of Earth, to you pledge your ALLEGIANCE to the Million Moons until your dying BREATH?” His eyes caught the iron tool in her grip, the end BURNING hot and red.
Soon....soon...
“Until my dying breath, I do solemnly swear...” He breathes his reply, BARING his arm out to her. Talia draws close, all but TOWERING over his shorter frame. “-I pledge my LIFE...” The branding tool grew close; the heat of the iron threatened to SEAR his flesh. To the Million Moons was what he was supposed to say. But a light flashed near the upper window.
Now.
“-To Saronia.” He’s barely able to catch Talia’s look of shock before he’s GRABBING the iron tool, using it to RIP the older woman closer.
Just in time to BURY his knife right through her chest.
All Hell broke loose. Guns were ripped into view, rebellious FIGHTERS turning their weapons on each other, and a hand tangled into Mortimer’s shirt. Blood splattered her black-painted lips, golden eyes wild and filled with RAGE. No emotion flashed in his own brown eyes as he CRUELLY twisted he knife in deeper as the war raged on around them. He sees the life BLEED out of her, form falling limp as she joined the past rulers of the Million Moons.
“...Walk with them...” Comes his whisper.
“ENOUGH!!!” Saronia’s voice ROARED, accompanied by a flurry of gunshots. The hall fell quiet, deathly so. “Talia is dead.” A ripple of fury went through the crowd. “Either you answer to me now, or DIE. Your choice...”
The co-president JUMPS at the sound of Mortimer’s voice, hand SMACKING the laptop closed as his boyfriend enters their shared basement. Mortimer cocks an eyebrow when he spots Merty sitting at his desk. “What’cha watching-”
“NOTHING!!” Merty interrupts immediately, getting only a grin from Mortimer in return. The other Morty seemed to grow a bit nervous as Mortimer approached him; his footsteps were slow and DAUNTING. He was taunting him with every STEP as he came up on his side.
“Nothing huh?” His hand lays over Merty’s own, carefully prying the lid upwards to focus on Saronia’s face, much younger and just as deadly. "Saronia?” Merty flushes red in embarrassment, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you worried about her?” Merty doesn’t reply. “There’s nothing you need to worry about Merty. You know why it was important that I help her out...”
“Yeaaaaaah, I guess so Mort-ii-mer.” Merty huffs finally. “I still better be your favorite.”
Feet were propped up on a desk, Mortimer’s eyes bore into the holographic transmitter he had built into his desk. He used it to keep track of his people, to calm himself down, and to really REMEMBER. With everything he’s done up until this point, it was finally coming down to this.
A celebration.
An armada.
A reunion.
It was all DONE. The rebellion was CRUSHED.
With a hum, he took his feet off his desk, snapping his fingers at Rico, who was more than happy to take a bow and leave the room, leaving the young ruler to his own silent business. Procuring a disc from his belongings, Mortimer idly dusts the item off, humming far too sweetly to himself.
He earned this.
Mortimer EARNED the right to relax now. Beneath him, a pleased rumble came from his baby; Sylvie knew it just as well as he did. This whole nasty business was finally over. For now.
The disc slips into the transmitter with ease. It downloads the memory faster than any normal DVD player does and it’s finished in seconds.
---
“Mooort-i-merrr!!” Comes a familiar drawl. Said Morty jumps in place, hurriedly stuffing an item out of view as the love of his life comes marching over to him, a gun SLUNG over his shoulder. “I got the last of them over there. Put up SOME fight but not much.”
Merty looked far more SCUFFED than normal in the memory. He looked older, yes; his hair was longer and he was out of the CLASSIC Morty clothes for once. He wasn’t even wearing any Presidential garb.
“Yeah...clear over here too. They really DID scatter like rats the second Sylvie bit their King’s head off.” Eyes darting up to the sky, locating the two suns up there, Mortimer knew it’d become night soon. GOOD. “Better set up camp. We can head back to the rest of them tomorrow.”
“All right!” Merty hums, reaching for his radio. “I’ll let Ava-” The disc cuts out there, jumping ahead to when the campfire and tents were all set up and neat. Merty and Mortimer were both leaning back on their hands, staring up at the sky. There was something WONDERFUL about this planet. Mortimer LOVED it. The night skies here were clear as day; every star, every galaxy and every universe could be seen bright and shining in the sky. It was a PERFECT place.
“So what do you think?” Mortimer asks him, sending a look Merty’s way. “Good land, terrified inhabitants, thriving ecosystem....awesome nights? It’s a high contender on my list.”
“I can see why.” Merty snickers, a hand raising to pet along Sylvie’s large back, pausing only a few times to play with the spikes that grew along her spine. Her tail thumped heavily into the ground under the given affection. “Besides, the planet is already mostly empty now with how often we’ve come here. Just the plants, animals, and buildings left.” The smile Merty gave him, even now, made Mortimer’s heart flutter. “I say we set up shop here.”
“Yeah....my thoughts exactly...” Mortimer’s voice goes low, letting his eyes drift past Merty to stare off into nothing. “Hey. Is that AVALON coming over here?” His boyfriend’s head turns to look; Mortimer sets to work immediately.
“Pffft....Mortimer. That was a....a...” His voice stops suddenly, eyes widening when he stares at Mortimer., his positioning....the RING. “A....a....” All words died in his throat.
“Listen..uh....Merty. I’m so happy that you put up with my BULLSHIT coming here and helping me find a place to set up OUR kingdom.” Mortimer begins, knuckles growing white as if he FEARED he’d drop the ring. The look on his face was so shocked. Amused. Nervous. It pushed him FORWARD. “...But I want to spend the rest of my DAMNED life with you...so....Merty...will you marry me?”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
“Oh Mortimer....you fucking SAP.” Arms loop around his shoulders; Mortimer doesn’t jump at the contact, but his attention is EASILY stolen from the disc. His head cants upward, staring at his HUSBAND’S rugged, smiling face.”If I had known you’d BUSY yourself with watching these old tapes while I crushed the last of this galaxy’s rebellion under our feet, I would have come home SOONER.”
Sliding out from underneath Merty’s grip, Mortimer spins the chair around to face him, leaning back in his seat as he admires his attire, his face, his everything. Even the ring he had around his finger.
“Oh please.” Mortimer hums, sliding to his feet with no hesitation, fingers immediately finding their place in his hair to draw him closer. “You always loved drawing out your return. You like to make me SUFFER a little bit.”
“What can I say...” Merty hums, drawing close. “I’m guilty as charged...”
