Chapter Text
Hot salty tears streak down your face. Your throat is tight, your stomach is clenched so hard you feel sick and you’re hugging your knees so tightly to your chest you can feel the flesh of your forearms start to bruise where they’re pressed against your shin bones.
“How long?” You ask, and the words drag painfully through your raw larynx. Your voice is so thick with sadness that it sounds weird and distorted.
The man in front of you shifts uncomfortably, long fingers of one hand clasped around the wrist of the other as he leans against a desk in a garage you don’t recognise. The sound of rain on metal is deafening.
“I-I don’t know. A couple of days?” He says, finally, and you shake your head, swallowing back a sob that sticks painfully in your chest and you bury your head in your knees. You’d been gone for a couple of days. You’d been missing for a couple of days and apparently the only person in the whole universe that cared enough to notice was this lanky old guy with grey-blue hair and piercingly dark eyes. A man you’d never seen him before in your entire life.
“Sweetheart…” he says, and you hear footsteps and then feel heat through your jumper as those long fingers press into the tight muscles of your shoulders, a light kneading pressure that feels so good and so familiar, and that just makes you cry harder as you shuffle away from him.
“I don’t know you.” You gasp, meeting his eyes, and his face is stricken, and he steps back like you’ve hit him, hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Y-you do. I swear, I s-swear-urrp-you do, baby.” He says and the belch makes you cringe as lightning flashes though the glass of the small window, illuminating his sharp features.
“I don’t.” You say and swallowing a sob before it can wrack through your body.
“B-baby…” he starts and it’s the way he stammers it, not so much what he’s saying, that tugs at your heart and flickers at something tangible in the dark recesses of your mind. Something desperately close, and fiercely hot, but completely impossible to hold onto. You feel so fucking lost, like some huge part of you is missing, and you don’t know how but you just know that it’s his fault. That he’s somehow responsible for this.
“Why would someone do this to me?” You ask, in a voice is bleak and broken, and he’s back in front of you, gathering you against him and this time you don’t push him away. It’s like your body needs to touch him. Like your skin craves this stranger. It’s too much, and you start crying again, deep, heartbroken sobs into the fabric of a lab coat that smells like laundry detergent and whisky. Slim arms snake around your back, crushing you against him with a strength that doesn’t make sense.
“I d-don’t -urrp- know, to-to get to m–… to get something out of you, probably.” He says with a shrug, and he sounds cagey but furious, and you don’t know if it’s at you or the situation. The uncertainty makes your stomach twist harder and you’re suddenly exhausted.
“Rick?” You ask, and though it’s the first time you’ve said his name since he told you it, the word feels so natural as it slips off your tongue. He stiffens at the sound. “Will you… Can you take me home?”
He lets out a low groan, head dropping to your shoulder, and you can feel his hot breath as it slides over your skin, plucking at your nerves and making you shiver.
“Jesus Christ ba-urrp-baby, you are… this is your home.” He says in a voice that sounds almost as devastated as you feel as the weight of that sentence hits you. Before you can say anything there’s a creaking noise and the internal door to the house swings opens. You twist to see a little boy in a yellow shirt, probably no older than twelve. A hallway strung in Christmas lights decorates the backdrop and throws shadows over his face. He peers into the garage looking petrified as his eyes fix in you. It’s him, the kid that was with Rick when he found you.
“Ri-rick?” His voice is high and wavering and Rick lets out a low growl, swivelling to face him.
“Oh god, Wh-what. What Morty? What do you – what the hell do you want?” He asks and despite everything, you frown. This guy shouldn’t be swearing at a little kid. Rick catches your expression, and his face softens. “Oh su-sure. That much you remember, huh?” He grumbles, eyes not leaving yours and you swallow.
“Is sh-she okay?” The boy, Morty, asks nervously, and you turn back to him and give him a little smile. He sounds sounds genuinely concerned and that’s sweet. You couldn’t remember much of the journey between here and wherever the fuck you’d been for the last few days, but you remembered the kids wide, panicked eyes as Rick had shot his way through creatures that couldn’t have existed, before chucking you both into what you still refused to accept was a spaceship and getting the hell out of there.
“What kind of stupid fucking – what kind of question is that, huh, Morty?” Rick snaps, standing up suddenly, and Morty almost trips over himself as he cowers in the doorway. “I had to get- I had to cross eight different dimensions to find her, Morty. I had to destroy a whole-urrp-a whole government. I had to do paperwork, Morty. Paperwork. Do you hear me Morty? Do you understand what I’m telling you? I had to tell her that- I had to tell her her own goddamn name, Morty, and you’re, and y-you’re asking if she’s okay? That’s the stupidest- that’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard. You’re a –“
“Rick.” You snap, cutting him off, and your voice is more scalding than you intend, and he jumps, startled.
“Jesus Christ.” He says, glaring at you, but you just hold his gaze until he looks away with a sigh, rubbing his temples with his long fingers as he turns back to the boy. “Where are Beth and Jerry?”
“Th-they took Summer to that thing.” He replies, eyes shifting between the two of you, and Rick nods.
“Okay. He-help me get her up, Morty. We n-n-need to get her upstairs.” He says and his words make you bristle. You don’t care what’s going on. You don’t need the help of an old man and a fucking child to help you stand up. You let your legs drop off the chair and push yourself to your feet.
Or at least you try.
The second your feet hit the ground you realise your mistake. Your legs are like jelly, and you immediately pitch forward. You squeeze your eyes shut, briefly wondering if your arms have the strength to take any of the impact, and then strong arms wrap around your waist, catching you before you hit the floor and the smell of alcohol and laundry floods your nostrils again, and it lights your nerves on fire. You twist your head and catch his eyes and the look in them let’s you know that whatever it is, he feels it too. Your hands clutch the fabric of his lab coat and ball into fists as he pulls you upright. Oh God.
For a moment there’s silence. Electricity crackles between the two of you. Rick let’s out a breath.
“Ge-get out of here M-Morty.” He stutters, eyes not leaving yours and you couldn’t pull yours away if the garage collapsed around you.
“But Rick-“ the high-pitched voice starts and Rick snarls at him.
“Will you j-just get out- get the hell out of here now.” He growls and you hear the boy squeak, and then the garage door closes, stealing most of the light from the room and sealing you in with him.
“R-rick-“ you whisper and then he’s picking you up and the feel of his hands pressing against you through your sweater makes you squeak. He drops you onto his desk, hands on either side of you, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily, and for some reason that makes you grin. “Old age catching up with you?”
His eyes snap open and he stares, a look in his eyes that's simultaneously wild and surprised, and you clasp your hands over your mouth. Where had that come from?
“Y-you-you are so fucking lucky you’re fu-fucked up right now.” He growls through gritted teeth, previous expression swallowed up by something dark, and instead of being terrified of the threat like any sane person would be in this situation, a thrill of lust shivers through you and the unexpectedness of it makes your breath catch. He notices and his eyes narrow.
“Y-you okay, baby?” He asks, leaning closer to you, so close you can feel his breath on your cheeks and your stomach flips. “Got s-something you wanna- you wanna share?”
“N-no.” You reply and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks, turning them pink. His eyes trip over yours then down to your cheeks, lingering on your lips. You swallow, trying to control your breathing. You might not remember him, but it’s becoming painfully clear that your body does.
Without a word, he turns from you, ripping a drawer open and scrabbling through an assortment of weird looking devices. He pulls out a terrifyingly long hypodermic needle studies it for a second then growls and chucks it over his shoulder.
“What are you-“ you start to ask, but he cuts you off.
“J-just give me a second sweetheart, daddy’s gotta- I gotta…” he trails off as he pulls out a dark blue handheld device. He pulls a cord and the multicoloured lights that run the length of it flicker to life. He closes one eye, twisting it in his hands and then nods, seemingly satisfied before turning back to you. You automatically shuffle away from him.
“What is that thing?” You ask nervously, and he shrugs, holding it up at you as he pulls a pair of goggles over his eyes and your heart starts to pound. “Rick?” He points it at you, and you swallow. “Rick, wait!”
There’s a pink flash, an electric crackle and then sensation rushes though you, flushing through your system like warm water, you grab onto Ricks forearms and gasp as you ride the wave. It’s not unpleasant but it’s completely consuming, like something else has invaded your very essence. You try to speak, but just as quickly as it starts it’s over, and Rick shakes your hands off and him and pulls the goggles over his head, dropping them to the floor as he scowls at the device in his hands.
“What the hell. What is that? What did you do to me?” You ask, breathless and clutching at the desk.
“It’s a neural scanner.” He grunts, not looking up as his fingers tap along the device in his hands. He seems to think that answer is enough, and you narrow your eyes at him, grabbing a fistful of the fabric of his jumper in one hand a using the other to shove your finger into his chest. He looks up in surprise, his gaze caught on where your finger is pressed into his sternum and when he meets your eyes there’s a tenderness there that throws you. You try to retract your hand, but he pulls it closer, flattening your palm against his heart and you can feel it racing beneath his ribs.
“That’s all it does? Scans brains?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. You can’t be one hundred percent, but you’re pretty sure he’s trying to use your physical response to him to distract you, and the only reason for that could be if he was hiding something. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly at your question. Almost imperceptibly. You narrow your eyes, tugging your hand away. “What else does it do?”
“J-Jesus Christ, you don’t miss a beat do you.” He says, shaking your head and you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you or not and he rolls his eyes. “It s-scanned your neural pathways to ch-check for any–urrrp-to check for any interference.”
“And was there any?” You ask again, and he nods.
“Your h-hip-hippocampus lit up like a fucking- like a Christmas tree.” He says, and you feel your face drop. He frowns at your expression, catching your chin between a finger and thumb, and holding your gaze. “Jesus Christ, you really were d-dumb before you met me, huh?” He asks with a grin as your mouth drops open in outrage. “It’s a g-good thing, babe. Interference means that your memories haven’t been erased, they’re being su-surrrrrp-suppressed.”
“Oh right.” You say as you realise that actually probably is a good thing and the dark shroud that had settled over you starts to lift for the first time since you’d gotten here. “So it’s reversible. How?”
He grins, and it’s a slimy, snaky, lecherous grin that lights up his eyes as he trails a long finger over your bare arm. You’re simultaneously disgusted and turned on.
“We find a w-urrrp-way to jog your memory.” He says, and before you even have a chance to realise what he means his arms slide around your back, pulling you against him and pressing his lips to yours.