The God of the Multiverse and I (feat. Rick Sanchez)

The Eve of Challenge #3

We were given a day off before the final challenge. I used it to recover and wondered if Rick was being given the chance to do the same. Meanwhile, the news of our success had its expected dramatic effect: the media had a field day, various government officials made statements regarding the political ramifications of the challenger's "tying" our Master-God, and the stock market took a dive. Rodger met with me in the morning to prep me for the official press conference, which basically consisted of telling me to smile and nod at whatever Clive said. We faced the media in the afternoon, and our leader made some quick, gracious statements of congratulations to Mr. Sanchez and wished him well for the final Challenge. I had to admit, he pulled it off convincingly. Away from the cameras, Clive avoided me like the plague.

The emotional rollercoaster was taking its toll on me. The only consistent feeling I had was a rather bitter pleasure that My Master-God now had to share that title, although of course that meant nothing in practical terms. I certainly realized now that I had to resign from my position as Clive's mistress, which I knew was my legal right, but I didn't look forward to undertaking that process. As for my feelings concerning Rick, the rush of my initial crush was gone now. In its place was a weakness for the man that I couldn't explain and certainly couldn't rejoice over. I wanted with all my heart to see him, all the while knowing there could be no happy resolution for us.

I was also quite afraid he wouldn't survive the following day.

I took dinner in my rooms, and retired to bed early, even though I had taken a long nap in the morning and wasn't in the least sleepy. I called up Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on my tablet and started to read it for the third time. It was one of the funnier satires, and I certainly didn't need anything dreary on an evening like this.

My concentration levels, understandably, were at an all-time low. I had just read page 53 for the fourth time when abruptly my door burst open. Through it flew Rick, who shut it hastily behind him.

"My god, Rick!" I cried, sitting up in the bed.

"Yeah, I escaped," he said, a little out of breath. "Could have done it before this, but it seemed like too much trouble. Today, however, I wanted a drink, and a meal that wasn't sparse and shitty—check and check, by the way—and to visit Morty—also check, he says hi—and to get a decent night's sleep. Mind if I crash with you?"

"How did you escape?" I asked, finding it hard to believe even though I shouldn't.

He ignored me and looked around the room. "They aren't allowed to look here, I assume," he said, and then turned his eyes to me.

"You assume correctly. God, Rick, you didn't kill anyone did you?"

He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Hell no. Contrary to public opinion I don't get my rocks off killing people. A couple guys are...incapacitated...in a place where they won't be found for awhile. I hope they get really fucking hungry and can't sleep. Say, this crib pretty posh." He fell back on the bed and sighed, "Oh yeah...no crappy little pad on concrete for this guy tonight!"

Rick stared up at me, as if expecting me to offer some form of entertainment. "What?" I asked.

"Look, Di—I wanted to talk to you about something."

That seemed like the most out-of-character thing he'd ever said to me. "Okay," I replied, setting my tablet on the night stand.

He sat up and scooted further onto the bed, folding his long legs to sit cross-legged. "That little dust-up we had on Toxia," he began, obviously very uncomfortable. "Well—I'd like to take back something."