Chapter Text
That Wednesday was, without a doubt, the worst day in your fifteen-year-long life.
Around 9AM, first Ricks and their Mortys started to gather at the cemetery. The turbid cloud of fog enveloped all attenders, burying the distant tombstones in the milky mist, the humidity making your hair stick to your neck and your forehead.
Sitting you in the front row was—hands down—probably the worst idea the idiot who was filling the seating chart could’ve possibly had. From this spot, right next to the open casket, you had a perfect view on your father’s corpse.
You tried to not look, knowing what would stare back at you. The two gaping bullet wounds in his forehead, one right next to the other, and the deep, irregular crack in his torn skin and ripped muscle where his jaw was brutally broken.
The blood that gushed from the hole avulsed in his skull and stained his face and clothes was now nowhere to be seen. Whoever was preparing the body for the burial made sure that his jaw wrested from the hinges was set in place. From this angle, you almost couldn’t see the deep crevice in his cheek, a glimpse into the layer of meat hidden beneath the greyish skin.
At least his eyes were closed.
Against what the funeral director was insisting on, you decided you wouldn’t be dressing him in a suit. That’s not what your dad would’ve wanted. He lay in the coffin clad in his usual clothes—lab coat, washed-out pants and the blue long-sleeve.
By your request, there was no priest and no mass. The ceremony was quick and quiet; your dad’s best friend from the lab, one of the very few Ricks there who had the decency to at least change from their oil-stained, dirty clothes into something more civilised, gave a short speech.
You waited for everyone else to pay their respects and did it last. Staring down at your father’s lifeless body and peaceful, yet deeply damaged face felt surreal. You didn’t speak aloud, you didn’t even know what you would say. Your head was empty, your fingers cold and tingling, you couldn’t feel your own heartbeat.
For the entire rite, you somewhat expected him to just snap his eyes open, crawl out of the coffin unceremoniously, flip everyone off and demand to be opened a beer.
He didn’t.
At the very end, right before the lid of the casket was closed, you slipped the USB stick with all the data he’d ever collected into the inner pocket of his lab coat. His research died with him.
You counted nearly fifty people that gathered to say the last goodbyes to the lead research scientist of the Citadel. You also watched them all leave, nodding at you morosely and mumbling ‘condolences’ to you on their way out. Your dad’s best friend squeezed your shoulder reassuringly when he was leaving as the second-last person there, murmuring to you that everything would be fine.
You didn’t have the energy to respond. When the last portal closed with a loud pop, you realized you were all alone at the graveyard, surrounded by long forgotten corpses nobody visited and a ton of empty plastic chairs, sitting at the feet of your only family member. And then it hit you that you’d probably be alone for the rest of your life.
“Jesus fucking Christ, took l-long enough,” you heard a Rick belch behind you.
You glanced over your shoulder at the person who was approaching and frowned. You didn’t recognize the Rick and Morty who were getting closer to the freshly buried remains, but it did irk you a little that they were showing up only now.
The first few raindrops splashed on your head as you turned around to face them.
“The funeral just ended,” you informed flatly, shoulders slumped.
Morty was in the middle of opening his mouth, perhaps to say something irrelevant, but before his tongue could form a syllable the Rick standing right next to him whipped out a gun from the pocket of his lab coat.
You stared at the weapon with your eyes blown wide, a sudden realization knocking the wind out of your lungs. You’d recognize the gat anywhere. The same piece made your father’s brain matter splutter on the wall in front of him and stained his clothes scarlet.
“Don’t-don’t take it personally,” his defiance completely threw you off. He aimed right at your forehead. “You have something I want.”
Your lips parted in silent preparation to start screaming, but before the sound could escape your throat, you could hear a shot being fired. The last thing you saw was Morty’s petrified expression before everything went black.