Summer Smith let out a sigh that seemed to dispel of all her worry, fear, anger, and aggression. For the first time in over two years she had no purpose, no mission, and the lack thereof brought about a strange feeling of…peace. It was a long-awaited sensation she never knew she'd been hungering for and it eased away two years' worth of pain. The ginger closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, reveling in her newfound freedom.

No more fighting….No more hunting….Nothing. I'm free.

She would have stayed still for hours—basking in the equanimity, allowing her alert composure to drift like away like fog—when she was asked that single question.

"What are you going to do now?" Rick Sanchez, her disregardful grandfather, sipped from his seemingly bottomless flask in a nonchalant fashion. Something tightened in Summer's stomach and that fleeting moment of equilibrium was gone.

He was so cruel, snatching away what little consolation Summer earned after everything she's been through. So cruel…

His words woke her from her dreamlike state, bringing her back to reality, and the question begged for an answer. What was she going to do? She had no home, no family—at least not like before. Rick's indifferent decisions made sure of that. With her most recent betrayal to the Federation, she was positive she would be on the run for the rest of her life.

Like him.

Summer turned her head to look over her shoulder. In a strange way, she and Rick were spitting images of each other and she was disappointed that her life ended up mirroring his. A rebel, forever on the run.

"To be honest, I don't really know."

The sun was setting over the horizon. A chuckle almost spilled out of her as she remembered her dad's warning about looking directly at the sun. The light will make you go blind, he'd said. Compared to everything she'd been through, going blind didn't seem so bad.

What are you going to do now?

Summer wondered if she ever really admired a sunset like she was doing now. She couldn't remember much pre-Cronenberg only her phone, social media, and her pathetic need to fit in with the popular kid, really a mediocre life. Now that she could value all the little things in life, grief struck her when she realized that she could never value them completely because it wasn't her dimension.

She'd never be able to fit in another reality, another world. Even if Grandpa Rick could find someplace for her to stay, she knew this detached feeling would always haunt her. He'd doomed her to the life of a runaway. A demented idea balled together in her mind and it made that knotted worry in her gut dissipate, allowing peace to find her once again.

I know what to do and if anyone could do it, he can. The ginger inhaled once again. I'm okay with it.

"Rick, I want to ask for a favor." He had a mildly curious expression as she faced him, reaching down to unholster her weapon. All of the work she'd done for her mission, all the scouting, tracking, and hunting flashed in her mind as she stared at the ray gun with an open palm.

I'm okay with it.

She grabbed the barrel with her other hand and reached across give the gun to Rick, keeping a firm grip on it as he tried to put it away in his lab coat with his other gadgets.

He'll do it, he doesn't care anyway.

She raised her hand, closing her eyes as the cool muzzle came to a stop on her forehead. She couldn't even look at the gun or at Rick in her final moments. Thank goodness he was there; she wouldn't have the spine to do it to herself, but it was okay because soon she'd join the darkness that enveloped her vision. "Shoot me."

I'm okay with it. I'm ready.

The few nanoseconds she spent standing there felt extremely long and dragged out. She quietly laughed at the expression that said that anyone who faced death saw their life flash before their very eyes. All that torture, all that pain had numbed her more than she realized and the cool spot disappeared mid-thought.

"W-w-what the fuck kind of favor is that?"

Summer's eyes snapped open and took in the angry mess that was supposed to be her careless grandpa.

"Why ask me?" he was frown was deep and his eyes were wide, boring into her for an answer, drool dripping down his bottom lip. He looked furious, was it because he….cared? "Huh?" he grunted forcefully.

"I've got nowhere else to go, no home to go to, and because I helped you escape prison the Galactic Federation is after me too. I can't stay on another planet; I won't be able to survive out there." Summer smiled softly, reassuringly, and she hoped it would project her acknowledgement of her fate. She was ready and if he couldn't see that, she'd have to fight a little dirty and rub salt in the wound. "Besides, you already killed me when you left us behind on Earth."

That man never failed to surprise her, making it hard for her to read him. First, his outrage at her request and now, a nonchalant roll of his eyes as he shoved the gun in the inner pockets of his lab coat. "That doesn't mean you go on a suicidal craze, Summer."

The way he rolled out her name, that sarcastic droll, gave her a pang of nostalgia because he used to say Morty's name like that too.

"You can stay here with me and Morty, w-w-we can get rid of this reality's Summer and—"

The ginger shook her head and spoke sternly. "The last thing I want to do is take this Summer's life away. Or any others. I don't…"

Memories flashed to those times she wanted to die, to when she was tortured, lied to, manipulated. She hadn't known she was on the verge of being killed until the general of the Galactic Federation had that genius idea of using her to find Rick Sanchez, hoping that Rick would have a soft spot for his granddaughter. He hoped it would make it easier to bring him in. All of her screams from pain, fear and anger rang in her head, all those ungodly times when she was strapped up and shocked near to death, all those yells she endured during the Federations military training, all those times she curled up and cried as she went to sleep….No Summer—nobody—deserved to go through all that deceit and suffering. If she could spare someone from all that, she'd do it with no hesitation.

"I don't want them to go through what I did."

Rick reached in his coat, misguiding Summer to believe he was retrieving his flask, but he pulled out his portal gun. "Then I'll find a reality where you could take another Summer's place, one that's already gone so you won't miss a beat."

Summer could have sworn that she heard an undertone of urgency, as if he were trying to change her mind because again, he actually cared. "You really think I'll be able to just forget everything that's happened? All the things Mom and Dad had to do—What I had to do—to survive in our dimension? Everything the Federation did to me when they found me in that intergalactic homeless shelter?"

Those high amperages, the jolts, the way she gripped onto her straps and threw her head back when she screamed—

Rick shrugged, displaying that casual behavior again. "So? I guarantee I've been through twice as much shit as you have and you don't see me bitching about how I can forget it. The answer's simple: just don't think about it."

Summer didn't doubt her grandpa had been through worse, seen, heard, experienced the unthinkable. She briefly wondered what it was as he produced his flask and uncapped it, taking a drink and burping afterwards.

"So you aren't going to end me," she stated flatly.

"Obviously fucking not. You're coming with me and Morty so I can fix this shit-storm."

There was no point in trying to argue with him, past experiences have taught her that, but she was also on low energy and she had no desire to argue. She gestured for his flask and stared as the sun sunk behind the horizon. "….You know, as much as I love the colors of the sunset, I don't like it."

"Why not?"

The ginger took a swig from the flask and recalled the first time she slammed the van door shut and how she felt like she sealed her fate as a struggling survivor on a contaminated planet, fighting with her parents with no hope.

"Cuz that's when those monsters attacked."

I wish I was a REALLY motivated writer so I could write the story before this little...creation. It never sat well with me, how Rick and Morty just abandoned their family in a dimension they completely fucked over. I mean, Beth and Jerry were fine so I didn't care about them, but Summer? She could have been taken along to their new home.

I dunno. I have a short attention span and as much as I love to write, I can't create many chapters to a single story or I lose interest. I like to emphasize on important moments and such. Wish I had the skill to really EMPHASIZE on said moments, but again, short attention, lose interest really fast, I have to get moving with le action.