I have been wanting to do something with the ending of the third episode of season two ever since it was released. I just wasn't sure how to do it without being over the top or insensitive about the issue of suicide. It felt like there was a million ways to do it wrong. In the end I came up with this and hope that it is done well and in character. I always worry with this show that I don't portray Rick correctly. Maybe I just worry to much over my work though. lol Oh and I really tried with their stuttering. Hopefully its alright. Enjoy!

Rick is bent over one of his devices as he works with only half a mind. Its intriguing enough he supposes, but mostly he uses it a distraction. Like everything he supposes. In the next instant the door to the garage swings open and Rick throws his head back. "Whaaaaat?" From his angle he can't see who enters, but he doesn't need to. He doesn't want to deal with any of the whiny members of his family right now. Or ever really. After the chaos of the day he wants – no, needs – to have some time to himself, to get himself back to equilibrium. There were too many people with too many feelings clogging up his brain for far too long. Now though, here in this small work space, he is utterly alone. Left to his own thoughts and devices. Or was.

Morty is the person who steps over the threshold. He does not come all the way in at first though. He lingers by the door, his fingers curled around the edge of the wood and keeping it from closing behind him. A deep frown marks his lips and his brows furrow as he stares at Rick from afar. He shouldn't need this time to sit and contemplate his grandfather, he has already spent hours doing that to even get himself to enter the garage. Then again, it was just a notion then. Now, here in the presence of Rick, it is a very real reality. Those little nagging thoughts that were enough to spur him on now feel feeble. What does he really know? Who is he to pass judgement on the things Rick does? Rick is insane after all. He doesn't live by the laws of the rest of the world. The way he acts and reacts surely are based on some other system entirely, something grander. It causes Morty to hesitate, like with most everything in his life.

Rick waits as patiently as he can. A whole five minutes creep by and whoever it is that came in still hasn't said a word. He grinds his teeth and curls his fingers in and out in aggravation. "Whadaya want?" He barks. He jerks his head around and narrows his eyes at the intruder. Morty. Of course it would be him. When is it ever anyone else, especially this late? What is he expecting? Some sort of late night adventure? He hates to break it to the kid – ha, not really – but he has had enough romping for a week thanks. And yet…no. That look about Morty, it isn't right. It screams of something deeper, darker than a desire to go adventuring.

Pinned beneath Rick's intense look, Morty ducks his head. He averts his eyes and the tension in his expression recedes to a meekness. That look, it is just like the Rick he was sure he knew all this time. It spoke volumes of Rick's characteristic indifference to common courtesy and peoples' feelings. It was also passionate in that aggravated, so done with the world's shit kind of way. It was so normal. So him. "R-Rick…I, um…" He clenches his hands into fists to keep himself from twiddling his fingers and looking even more nervous and pathetic.

Rick stands and turns hard. "S-Stop mumblin' Morty. I hate it when you do that." Rick points a finger at the boy. "Can't-Can't understand a word of you when you do that."

Something about the tone of Rick's words makes something shift. A fire ignites in Morty and renewed determination surges through him. He finally lets go of the door and steps forward. He lifts his head and glares back at Rick. "You tried to get me to kill you." He says it more firmly than he thought possible. Still, there is an underlying current of fear that carries on his words despite his effort.

Rick raises a brow. "Yeah, I did." He looks unimpressed. "Cause your dumb ass was too stupid to understand it any other way. You-"

"No!" Morty shrills.

Rick jumps at how sharp Morty's voice is. It isn't in the kid's nature to be that way.

"That's not why you did it." Morty glowers up at Rick. "Y-Y-You didn't know. You pretended to know about the bad memories, but you-you didn't. I heard you hesitate, stumble over yourself." His lip trembles slightly, but he forces himself to stay composed. "I'm not stupid."

Rick snorts. "Coulda fooled me. Makin' such a big deal out of nothing. I'm not like you or anyone else in this stupid house. My mind," He presses a finger to his temple. "It doesn't work the way yours does."

"You can pretend to be like-like some kind of God all you want. But you-you're still human, Rick. You have emotions." Morty jabs a finger in Rick's direction. "And I saw it. I saw it." A shiver races up his spine. "You asked me to kill you. A-And you meant it." Tears prick his eyes at the horrible truth. It isn't like he hadn't already thought of it, but somehow saying it aloud made it all the worse. More real.

"Fine, y-you little shit. I wanted you to kill me. Bam!" He uses his hands as visual representations of an explosion. "My brains eeeeverywhere. Blood on the floor. Happy now?" He stares Morty down more harshly than ever. He regards him as if he is a parasite. But only because it is the only way to act to keep himself from truly feeling. He can't let the mask slip, not in front of other people. Especially not in front of Morty.

Morty flinches. His mouth falls open and terror twists his face. For a long moment all he can do is stare. Everything goes blank. He doesn't see the hate plastered on Rick's face and he doesn't feel anything – only numbness. Then he snaps back to reality and its crippling. His stomach drops and his heart is only a step behind. He feels sick and empty all at once. He clenches his fists until his knuckles are white and his nails dig into skin, drawing traces of blood. "Why?" His voice is tiny, trembling.

Rick snorts. "What kinda stupid question is that?" He makes a face. "What other reason is there for someone wanting you to shoot them ya moron. I want to die." This kid, he swears. Dumb as a rock.

"Why?" Morty explodes. Tears well up and seep from the corners of his eyes. "W-Why would you want that? To die?" The last word is but a breath, a curse on his lips.

Rick puffs out a breath. He rolls his eyes and looks thoroughly unimpressed. "Why not?"

Morty chokes out a laugh, sounding deranged. "T-That's it then? It's all-all just a game? Because you can die, you want to. Y-Y-You are so fucking stupid!"

"Hey! Watch your mouth." Rick points a finger at him.

Morty stares dumfounded. "My mouth? Rick, you tried to kill yourself. A-A-And you want me to watch my mouth? What the hell?"

"Geez, Morty. Calm down." Rick shakes his head. "You act like this is the first time or something." He doesn't think twice about the words that pass his lips. It's only the truth after all.

Morty's eyes bulge and pupils dilate. "What?" His voice cracks. "You…you tried to kill yourself…before?" He presses a hand to his mouth. He struggles to wrap his mind around the idea. Thoughts whirl in his head. How long ago? Was it after one of their adventures? Which one? Where did he do it? Where was Morty when he tried? In the room next door? Just a breath away? More than anything his head screams – why did he never notice? There must have been signs. There always are! And yet…he never knew. Not until today.

Rick averts his eyes. For one of the few times in his life he is genuinely uncomfortable. He can't bear to look at Morty like this. Is it shame? He hasn't felt that in ages. Still, as Morty said, he is regrettably human, no matter how much larger than life he pretends to be. "Come on, Morty." He tries to brush it off despite himself. "It's not that big a deal. You know, one person attempts suicide every thirty eight seconds. And it's the tenth leading cause of death." He rattles off facts, but the light usually present in his eyes when he does so is all but extinguished. "And I mean," He chuckles. "I didn't actually pull it off."

Morty lowers his hand from his mouth. "You could have died." He whimpers.

"Nah doy. That's kinda the point." Rick frowns and shoots Morty a pointed look.

"I don't understand." Morty sniffles. He shakes his head slowly back and forth. "I..." A fire ignites in him and he jerks his head up. "I don't. Under. Stand." He scowls through his tears. He clenches his fists as they shake terribly. "Why wouldn't you just talk me?"

The words poised to strike fall to the wayside. Morty does not turn the conversation around to focus on himself as if he were the victim and so Rick's heated comeback is now useless. He stares, admittedly a bit surprised. It takes him a moment, but he quickly recollects his thoughts and mashes together a new response. "I'm not a child, Morty. When it hurts I don't run to mommy and daddy to fix it."

"Neither do I!" Morty bites back. "But I don't try and kill myself either."

"No," Rick snorts. "You just stick your grubby paws in my alcohol and drink yourself into oblivion."

Morty barks out a laugh. "Are you serious?" He seethes. "A-Are you really gonna take the high road here a-a-and try to make me look like the one with problem? You're the one who has a flask shoved down your throat twenty four seven!" He points at Rick. "Me? I indulge once a week, once. At most. Only when things seriously go to shit, like-like..." Pain creases his face and he can't bear to finish the thought. Like after shooting that gaseous entity.

Rick glowers at Morty. He shouldn't be so flippant about his own issues. Once a week is still one too many. "And that's why you would've been doing us both a favor."

Realization hits Morty. His voice is a breath, "That's it." Rick's words from earlier come back full force. Do us both a favor and pull the trigger. "That's it then?" The shaking of his fists works its way up the rest of his body.

Rick eyes Morty with uncertainty. What does he think he's figured out now?

"You think you know best for me, huh? Is that-that it?" Morty shrills. "You think you know what will save me from my-myself? From becoming you?" Morty's trembling escalates to convulsions. "You don't know me at all! C-Cause, if you did you-you'd know. I'm terrified of death." He sobs.

Rick scoffs. "Cause you're a li-little baby." He tries to brush off Morty's quickly spiraling state. He hopes to redirect Morty's emotions, to get him off this track. Unfortunately he is smart enough to know it's already too late.

Morty doesn't even hear Rick. His mind is a mess as he descends into the darkness always lurking just at the periphery, one brought to the forefront by Rick's admissions. "You dying wouldn't make it stop. I-I-" He lifts his hands and grips his head. "I'd drown in it." His voice cracks. "I couldn't do it. Couldn't do it Rick. If you were gone…dead, I'd die too." Sobs choke him. The tears stream unchecked down his face.

Rick is alarmed. He's dealt with Morty being a whiny little bitch countless times. He's even dabbled in the aftermaths of a few of the traumas, but nothing like this. Morty looks as if he is going to implode from all of his emotions. More than that though, a nerve has been struck within Rick. "Morty…" He doesn't know what to say though, how to react. What is anyone supposed to say when someone says they would literally die without you?

"Please…" Morty squeezes out. "I don't want to be alone again."

Rick lets out a breath. There Morty's gone and done it – made it about himself. Just like Rick predicted. But Rick doesn't care now, not even a little. All he sees is pain where pain isn't due and a very slippery slope set before his grandson. And as much as he pushes Morty around and belittles him, that is one thing he can not bear to watch Morty succumb to. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Morty. He draws his grandson close.

Morty sucks in a soft breath, the haze broken. His eyes widen as he peers up at Rick. What's going on? He tries to understand the motive behind Rick's action. After all, it's Rick. There's always some hidden agenda, even to his nicest actions. He forces the sobs down, scared to death to break the fragile moment.

"Calm down, Morty." Rick says with surprising softness. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

Morty doesn't quite believe him, somewhere in there, but he squashes that part without mercy. He lets himself believe in what makes life bearable. He throws his arms around Rick and clings. His sobs come back with a vengeance. "P-Promise?" He presses his face into Rick's coat.

"Yeah, of course." Anything to stop his grandson's descent. After all, misery loves company. And maybe as long as he has Morty it will be enough to keep him hanging on by that thread. Just like for Morty Rick will be his thread connecting him to the closest thing to happiness anyone in his family can have.

Morty breathes out, a weight lifted from him. He sniffles and dares to let go of Rick with one of his hands in order to wipe at his face. "I'm sorry…" He mutters with a slowly steadying voice. His sobs have quickly subsided, the reassurance of Rick's words enough for him, no matter how unreliable they ultimately are.

Rick quirks a brow as he looks down at his grandson. "For what?" God knows Morty has the least to be sorry about of anyone in this screwed up family.

"For making it about me." Morty leans off of Rick in order to peer up at his face. "Y-You're…not supposed to do that, r-right?" He ducks his head.

Rick snorts. A genuine smile splits his lips. "Whatever. Being politically correct is for pussies."

Morty snickers and smiles despite himself. "Thanks."

"Sure thing." He ruffles Morty's hair on a whim. A little open affection won't kill him. In fact, it could turn out to be his saving grace. The thing that keeps them both clinging to that thread years after life should have crushed them.

So what did you think? Was Rick in character? Too emotional for your taste? I'd love to know so I can try and improve for the next time if need be. I hope that ultimately you enjoyed it though. I know I had fun. Please review!