A Drop of Rain

The Others Lame Adventure

Authors note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Rick was bouncing his foot impatiently, aggravated by how long this shit was taking. About half an hour ago, he had been escorted from his prison block into some room with a chair and a table. It was dark in here, sans for a dingy old hanging ceiling light that bathed him, and the table, in a dim yellow glow. His hands were bound behind his back with a highly advanced pair of hand cuffs that Rick, for the life of him, couldn't break out of. He could break out of just about any kind of hand cuffs, but these were just... Jesus fuck. Why couldn't he break free?!

He'd probably be able to get out of the cuffs if they weren't also connected to the chair- which was connected to the floor. Damn. These Federation bugs were determined to keep him. That didn't really surprise him, as much as it annoyed him. The Federation has been breathing down his neck since god knows when, and now that they finally have him, they aren't gonna let him go so easily.

He was actually quite proud of himself for avoiding them for so long- he was their most wanted criminal, after all. The most well known face-on-a-wanted-poster criminal there was. He's had many encounters with people who recognized him simply because they saw his picture in the news, or on a paper. The funny part was that fifty percent of the time they didn't even know he was a criminal- they just said he looked vaguely familiar, and asked if he was an actor on TV or something. Rick nearly choked on his flask the first time someone asked him that.

But now they have him, and Rick was okay with this. Kind of. Okay, he's not okay with this... but if he could break out (which, Rick is sure he could if he really really wanted to), where would he even go? He can't go home- that's the most obvious place, and the federation would check that before anything. He probably has a tracking device in him, too, so... he's fucked no matter where he goes, unless it's an alternate universe. It would actually be pretty easy for Rick to break free, he could even make a brand new Portal Gun within a few minutes... but the chance that they would hold his escape against his family, and torture them for information on his whereabouts, was too high. He didn't want that for them. (Jerry can suck it though. He doesn't care what happens to that idiot.) So he has no choice but to be okay with his position, because it's better than being a dick for once. Deep down he's not okay with this at all. He misses alcohol. He misses adventures. He misses his inventions, and his constant discovery of new knowledge. He misses his spaceship. He misses his garage...

He misses Morty...

Oh, God (not that there is a God. There is no God). Morty probably hates his fucking guts. That's what was so hard about this- the damn kid was probably never going to understand why he did this. But he had to. It was the only way he could keep them safe... the only way he could keep Morty safe. As long as Morty was safe, Rick was fine wasting away in prison. Just like how he's fine dying for the kid if there's ever a one-or-the-other situation.

He'd had a few hallucinations while withdrawing from alcohol. Luckily, the Feds weren't completely stupid, and they gave him the proper medication to keep him alive during the sobering experience.

Hallucinating was the worst part of withdrawing from his poison... But only because it was mostly about Morty. The kid had grown on him- it's the only reason he's in prison in the first place. He cares so much about that kid, that it actually fucking scares the shit out of him. The realization came when they accidentally fractured time, and in one of the timelines Morty fell through the floor to the endless depths of time-space. It was the one memory, out of all the other memories overlapped in that moment, that Rick remembered the most vividly. The second Morty fell through the floor, his heart stopped because of how terrified he was of losing the kid. Rick jumped down after him, and he was so shocked at how quickly he sacrificed himself for Morty.