Many thanks to SilenceintheGraveyard for beta-reading!

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Morty had never looked at his grandfather through rose-colored glasses, nor had he ever pretended to admire him after those innumerable adventures, full of massacres, murders, and robberies. He knew his grandpa was selfish, arrogant, cynical, misanthropic and unreliable; he'd lost count of times when he had gotten into trouble and suffered because of Rick; most of their adventures were too dangerous for adults, not to mention teens, and he could remember many times when Rick had exploited, deceived, or left his grandson behind. The perils the characters in the action TV shows they sometimes watched together faced paled in comparison to the ordeals Morty had to endure thanks to Rick. So, without a doubt, Rick was an egoistic asshole, and Morty truly wished some of their adventures had never happened.

But that day was the last straw. Hundreds of vials filled with memories that Rick had taken away from him and placed there, many of them without Morty's knowledge, many of them containing memories of how Rick had fucked up-Morty was shocked. And angry. He threw himself at Rick in that room of stolen memories, fury overwhelming any other feeling in his heart. Stupid, egocentric asshole! How could he…!? Morty fought Rick, and Rick fought right back. Even after Summer came in and dragged them away from each other, Morty's wrath didn't fade away. He resented Rick. He felt hurt and pitiful. Of course Rick had hurt him a fuckton of times before but this one was just so shitty and Morty felt so stupid about it that he physically couldn't stop being angry with Rick. At school, for perhaps the first time, he passed by Jessica without looking at her because all he could think about were all those memories, his own memories. How Rick had used him, how he had lied to him, treating his grandson like some dumb little boy, and the more Morty thought about it the more he felt telltale tears welling up in his eyes.

Rick himself, however, seemed not to notice his grandson's anger—or, which was far more likely, he pretended not to. He spent the week fiddling with some scientific stuff in the garage while Morty went to school every day. They only went on two adventures. Although Morty was sulky, he went anyway, the room of memories at the periphery of his mind. Now, he watched Rick warily every time they were somewhere off-world, ready to fight if Rick screwed up and tried to erase his grandson's memories again. It never happened though. That weekend Rick was off for some off-planet party, not taking Morty with him. He just said, 'I'll be back i-in a d-day… may-BUURP-be two,' and disappeared into a portal. Morty watched him leave with irritation—he could bet that Rick would get shit-faced and he, Morty, would of course be the one having to deal with his hangover. Again. Great.

Morty stood alone in the garage, sulking. Rick never gave a crap about him. What else, he asked himself, had Rick been storing in those vials without his grandson's permission or knowledge? Some memories of how Rick had given him a blunt and laughed while Morty lay there strung-out? Rick's perpetual screw-ups that he had erased from his grandson's memory, too arrogant to admit that even he made mistakes?

The more Morty thought about what the other memories could be about, the tenser he became and just when he was about to spit on Rick's desk, he suddenly came up with an idea…

Morty knew the garage like his own room if not better; often, when Rick was drunk and couldn't find something, it was Morty who would eventually dig out the needed tool or gadget. He also knew Rick well—well enough to be able to find out how to open the door to that room. It was quite risky, considering that Rick could come back any second and walk in on him. But Morty was too determined to care.

A variety of multicolored vials met him wordlessly from their shelves when he entered the room. How many times, Morty wondered, creeping for some reason, had he been here before?

The boy walked past the shelves, frowning and trying to recall what color the memories about Rick's screw-ups were. Blue or red? Or maybe pink? Okay, there were three of them, Morty decided, so he could just try each and find out—

Suddenly, the boy caught a glimpse of something and came to a halt in front of one of the shelves. Lots of pink memories were there, but they weren't the reason he had stopped; his attention had been arrested by a flash of green—and he certainly didn't remember Rick saying anything about the green memories. Morty frowned. He crouched down and saw a box of forest-green vials. No surprise he hadn't noticed them that last time—the box was shoved all the way back into a dark corner.

Morty remembered that there were memories about his own failures, Rick's, and his family's, sorted by color. Did these green ones belong to some outsiders then? Rick must've hidden them there because they were the least interesting to him. Would probably be a waste of time for Morty, too, as he was here to learn the truth about the memories Rick had been hiding from him. But a pang of curiosity prodded him and, after a moment's hesitation, he pulled the box out from under the shelf and took one of the vials.

"Shouldn't take long anyway," Morty mumbled to himself, trying to recall how to turn the memory player on. He hadn't done it before—or probably had, and Rick had just expunged that memory—but he knew the nuts and bolts of how his grandfather's inventions usually worked.

Switch!—and the old familiar feeling of sinking into a memory engulfed him.

It felt warm. Warm and very, very nice, as though he had been pulled into a hug. A well-known scent of old clothes and booze hit his nose, and he opened his eyes. He nearly went blind at the bright whiteness everywhere, his eyes burning from too much light after the cozy dark. Morty blinked rapidly as he let his eyes adjust to the light—and then, he realized it was snow. Everything around there was an immense white expanse of snow.

The boy propped himself up with his elbow and saw Rick hunched over his spaceship's engine.

"You up?" Rick shot him a look over a shoulder. "G-Good, help me with th-this shit."

"Are we not on Earth?" Morty sat up on what turned out to be a log, looking around where there was nothing but snow.

"Yeah, M-Morty. The portal gun's out of battery, this fucker's broken and we're stuck on thi-UURP-is fucking planet."

That said, Rick kept fiddling with the engine, saying nothing else.

Slow after his slumber, Morty stood up and something immediately dropped from his shoulders, like a blanket or something, leaving him to shiver slightly from the abrupt chill. He looked down and was surprised to find it was Rick's lab coat—and Rick, he noticed, was not wearing it. The boy picked it up from the ground; it was still warm from his body heat and strongly reeked of whiskey. He breathed in the smell against the thick fabric.

"Rick?"

"What?"

"You c-covered me with your lab coat while I, while I was asleep?"

His grandpa spun around swiftly to eye him. "D-Didn't even notice. You know, you gotta help me with this if-if you don't wanna get stuck in this fucking Santa Claus' land for-UURP-ever, Morty."

But Morty didn't budge. He looked at the lab coat in his hands, slightly baffled, then at Rick, then at the coat again. Holding it and feeling its soft warmth on his fingertips was a first, and the boy remembered how Rick had always been fond of it and refused to have it laundered, much to his daughter's dismay. "You c-could have turned on the h-heat or some, something," he stuttered, pressing the coat closer to his chest for some reason. "B-but you… you covered me with your f-favorite lab coat."

"Fuck," Rick swore under his breath, turning back to the engine. "I, I wasn't even cold, M-Morty, I just threw it at you b-because I didn't need it. Stop talking and help me with this-this crap!"

Obedient, Morty came over and held the wires that needed to be held while Rick practically folded himself in two, fiddling with something inside the ship. Then, after pulling his head out of there, the old man took a long swig from his flask. "Almost done, M-Mor—" he said with a smile when Morty interrupted him.

"Y-your hands," the boy noticed, "they're shivering. A-and very cold," he added after touching his grandpa's palm quickly, its skin blueish and wrinkled like old paper.

"So what? In case you haven't noticed, Sh-sherlock, the whole planet is literally covered in snow," Rick said in an edgy voice, conspicuously avoiding looking at his grandson.

"S-so you are cold."

Rick was beginning to lose his patience. "W-what are you—"

Feeling much happier now, Morty couldn't suppress a grin. "So you were cold and you still gave me your lab coat. Wow, Rick, so nice and c-cute, Summer will be jeal—"

"Fuck!"

Disgruntled, Rick dove into the spaceship, then straightened back up, holding something in his hands.

"Rick?" Morty never finished the sentence, casting a wary look at the old man. Rick said nothing, his face frowning and tiny icicles shining on the tips of his hair. He only pointed the unfamiliar thing (was it some kind of a gun?) at him slowly, and Morty suddenly realized how tired Rick looked. Tired and old, his eyes strangely darkened with something Morty couldn't name.

A shiver ran through his knees and the boy stepped back, realizing he had said something wrong.

"G-geez Rick, y-y-you're scaring me…"

"I'm sorry, but you made me do this, Morty," his voice hoarse and somehow bitter, Rick fired, making Morty reel, and the bright white faded to black.

Morty took the memory player off, his eyes wide open. Rick had given him his lab coat? This itself was quite unlike him but what actually jostled Morty most was, why had Rick erased this memory, even though nothing worth erasing had happened?

The boy looked helplessly at the box with green vials. Rick hadn't told him about it even though the blue, pink, and red memories seemed to be way more traumatizing.

A little lost, Morty couldn't think of anything better than snatching another green vial and plunging into its memory, curious if it would also be this weird or not.

He couldn't see anything. All was dark and blurry, and he felt as though he was falling but couldn't scream, or say a word. There was only the pounding, all-consuming pain, and all he jonesed for was to stop feeling that pain. Stop, please stop, so much pain, oh goodness stop please…

"Morty…"

Where—?

"M-Morty…"

Indistinct, but so familiar…

"…r-really fucked up this time, M-Morty," a quiet sob. "Fuck, I'm so, so sorry, k-kid…"

It was Rick. And although Morty couldn't see him in the ominous darkness—he could barely hear him through the sharp pain—he thought Rick sounded rather perturbed and upset. The boy tried to focus on his grandpa's voice, which wasn't easy considering the queer fuzziness he was drifting in.

"…m an asshole… f-fuck, M-Morty, stupid alien d-d-diseases, you little pussy… I'm sorry, k-kid, I'm so, so sorry…"

Rick's voice was harsh, tinged with a bitterness and regret Morty was not accustomed to. He wanted to tell his grandpa that everything was okay, but couldn't—his limbs wouldn't move— his tongue went numb—

"I know you can't hear me, Morty… dunno if the antidote will work," Rick sobbed somewhere far-off. "F-fuck, kid, you… you-you're all I have, Morty… can't lose…"

His grandpa's voice was so painfully sincere and heartsore, Morty's heart bled for him. Cursing everything—the dark, the pity in Rick's voice, the numbness—he pulled himself together, trying his hardest to ignore the pain, and eventually pried his eyes open.

"I-I'm okay, Rick," the boy said quickly after Rick's eyes had widened at his sudden waking. These eyes were strangely red, the older man's face glittering with the tears trickling down his cheeks.

Morty still was in pain and realized he wasn't mobile at the moment but smiled weakly nevertheless. "Y-you— you do care about me…"

Rick looked relieved, which was another surprising detail. Quickly, as though someone could walk in on him, he pressed a sloppy wet kiss to Morty's forehead. Morty's eyes widened in shock.

"Of course I do, you little shit," Rick said feebly, completely earnest, and wiped his face with his lab coat's sleeve.

Morty was too exhausted to exert himself more so he simply smiled at his grandpa, forgetting about the pain, some kind of pure happiness growing inside his chest as he and Rick eyed each other.

"I-I—," Rick's shoulders slumped abruptly. Morty wanted, really wanted to give his grandpa some pep talk but had to close his eyes as it was becoming too painful to keep them open. "I'll do anything to make you get better, kid, you got grandpa's promise. And—" the older man's voice broke as he sniffed quietly. "And I'm sorry, Morty. I'm sorry."

Completely startled, Morty opened his eyes. He was in the room of memories again but still had the afterimage of Rick's sad face in his head and could almost hear his unusually bitter voice. It was not something he had expected to see at all so now Morty just gawked at the rows of multicolored vials, trying to process the whole thing.

'You're all I have, Morty…'

He'd never heard such words from Rick, never could he even imagine that Rick was capable of telling him something like that with sincere sorrow in his voice. Maybe Rick had edited the memory? But why would he do that if he didn't intend to show them to his grandson anyway?

Morty found his palms clammy and his legs heavy, barely able to stand steadily. Without thinking, he seized another vial as if it were the most sought-after treasure in the entire multiverse—

He restored the green memories one by one.

Each of them was about him and Rick, sometimes involving the other members of their family, too.

Rick taking the rap for Morty on some planet after Morty had screwed up and the police were after him

Morty walking in on his grandpa crying over a picture of Beth—

There were not so many of them, those green memories, unlike those red, pink or blue ones, but each one of them astounded Morty more than all the differently colored memories put together. They weren't long but they captured the rare displays of Rick's sincerity, and the moments when Morty felt appreciated and important.

After he had finished restoring all the green memories, he started re-watching them, over and over and over, desperate to wallow in the feeling of being randomly hugged by Rick, or being praised, or being saved or whatever.

Why… why had Rick erased these memories? Why had he been hiding them? Shit-tons of times had Morty thought Rick didn't give a rat's ass about him, but if he had known Rick had been so kind to him sometimes, he would be way happier and calmer and not so mad at Rick, so why? What for?

Morty only stopped re-watching the memories when he felt hot tears running down his face. As the room around him went blurry and a tremor ran through his hands, the boy put the vials back into the box and sank down to the concrete floor.

"W-why, R-R-Rick," he stammered quietly and pulled his shaking knees to his chin, "why did you do this to me—"

"Because memories can be dangerous, Mo-BUURP-orty."

Morty's head spun around and he jumped to his feet when he saw his grandpa in the doorframe.

"R-rick, you you-you're not at the party?"

"It was a trap, I shot the douchebags," Rick said, coming over. He was hunched, his eyes half-lidded. "Seems you managed to open the door by yourself and even found the green memories. G-good… good job, M-Morty."

"Geez, Rick, I-I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologize," Rick cut him off. "I shoulda known… you've restored them all, haven't you?"

Abashed and a bit regretful, Morty decided there was no use trying to get away with it. "Y-yes, Rick. And… why?" he asked timidly and looked up at his grandpa.

He felt no wrath anymore, nor irritation. Instead, he suddenly thought that he had screwed up loads of times before as well. And so had everyone in their family—otherwise they wouldn't have gotten rid of those parasites that could only create good memories. People make mistakes and mess up and sometimes they can be selfish dicks, he reasoned—they're people, after all, not robots. Although robots can be selfish too, especially if they're addicted to alcohol.

Rick said nothing. He crouched down to push the box back under the lowest shelf, then straightened up and sighed, keeping his gaze away from his grandson.

"Rick?"

"The universe is a crazy thing, M-morty," Rick said finally.

He looked tired.

"A-a-and attachment in this crazy universe can be dangerous, Morty. I didn't want you to warm to me too much so I erased the best memories abo-UURP-about me from your memory. That's the point."

"What? What the hell Rick? I-I-I do see the point of erasing bad memories but—"

"Because hundreds of people in the multiverse are after me, Morty!" Rick unexpectedly turned on his heel, spitting the words straight into Morty's face. There were shadows under his eyes. "A-and most of them aren't even fucking people! And if you're still too dumb to understand, one day they can learn I have grandchildren and try to use your attachment to me to make you tell them what they want!"

Morty stepped back, caught off guard, his eyes wide open with shock. "G-geez Rick, you mean… you mean—"

"I mean they're stupid turds! Fucking stupid turds!" Rick shook Morty by the shoulders, slobber on his chin. "A-a-and they will torture me in front of you to make you tell them all my secrets or whatever the fuck they want! A-and if you're attached to me, you will!" Rick's face went paler than usual and he shook the boy's shoulders once more, making him cringe. "And they will torture you in front of me, Morty, if they learn how much I love my grandson and how much I'm ready to do for his safety!"

With those words, the older man shut up.

Morty only stared at him wordlessly as he was trying to comprehend everything he'd just heard. He was pressed uncomfortably into the shelves but he had no time to dwell on it—actually, he couldn't think of anything but Rick's words. Rick… had just said he loved him? He really had?

Morty's heart beat frantically.

"S-so— this— this all was— f-f-for my— for my sake?"

"Fuck, Morty," Rick rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "Yeah, like I just said, it was."

Morty cast a brief glance at the other multicolored vials. Unbelievable, but Rick didn't look drunk at all and as the boy mulled over the whole thing, he realized this sounded reasonable and logical and explained some aspects of Rick's behavior better than any of Morty's speculations.

"But… but you erased the memories about yourself, too," Morty said as something warm, extremely pleasant and nice welled up in his chest.

"Well," Rick scratched his nape, "I didn't want you to think your grandpa's a complete asshole, either."

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then, overwhelmed with the sudden happiness, Morty couldn't help but smile. At once, he threw himself at Rick and squeezed the older man's scrawny body with his arms tightly.

"What… what the hell are you doing, M-Morty?" Rick burped.

"Hugging my awesome grandpa," Morty mumbled against his chest, relishing the moment as much as he could. "A-a-and those aliens who're after you, they really suck. F-fuck them. They'll never catch you because you rule and they suck."

Soft silence reigned the room.

Then, timidly, Rick's hand found Morty's back, hesitated for a heartbeat and eventually patted it.

"Y-you know what? That's the spirit. And and and you're a good kid, M-Morty. N-no matter what. Just… just don't forget that."

"I won't," Morty promised, hugging the older man even more tightly and then letting go of him. He couldn't stop smiling and Rick, to his surprise, couldn't do so either.

"Come watch TV? We can call Summer, y-you know, get her off her phone, and make popcorn and like, I don't know, just watch some funny interdimensional channels?"

"G-good idea, M-morty. Lemme just find my flask…"

Morty smiled as Rick fumbled about in his lab coat's pockets, and then went out of the room, leaving behind the bad memories he had never restored—and he didn't want to anymore. There were much better things to be occupied with, and there were two great school-free days ahead which he could spend with Rick, his grandpa and best friend, and he definitely wasn't going to miss the chance.