Disclaimer: It should probably be obvious, but I don't own "Rick and Morty". If I did, would I be writing fanfiction? (Perhaps, but it would also be in the show.)

Author's Note#1: I got this idea after watching the end of "M. Night Shaym-Aliens!". (In case you didn't know, each episode has a little epilogue after the credits.) Clearly this whole escapade messed Rick up more than he would ever let on. This is the aftermath. Enjoy!

Author's Note#2: Consider this story a revision/contiuation of "Cracked" which I probably won't revisit or continue. It's going to be a little similar but also quite different. It's rated M for violence and triggering material (PTSD, depression, ect.). You have been forewarned.

PS: I have not forgotten about "The Greatest Rick of them All". Just taking a break. :) Thanks for reading!

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The last thing Morty ever expected was to have Rick holding a knife to his throat at one am; least of all for his grandfather to be screaming bloody murder in his face and demanding to know if he was a "simulation" or not.

For one thing, Morty didn't even really get entirely what a "simulation" was to begin with. He'd heard the term used by his grandfather before, but it was spoken of casually in conversation and never about anything that had held his interest for too long. He'd concluded it had something to do with not being real, or something that messed up with a person's reality….but the thing that really disturbed him, more so than the even itself, was why Rick would even need to know whether he was real or not-now, that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever.

The night Rick had put he knife to his throat, it had come completely unexpected, and entirely without warning: he'd been sleeping, peacefully dreaming something about making out with Jessica-and then, suddenly, Rick was in his face, blabbering drunkenly about some "rocky road" ice cream or something, and then all of a sudden a knife was at his throat, and Rick was screaming harshly in his face, spit flying everywhere, the words "Are you a simulation Morty!? HUH!? Are you a simulation!?" Rick's hand was gripping his hair, pulling hard, and he was paralyzed with fear….

Thankfully, after he'd repeated "no" as many times as he could strangle out, Rick seemed to have snapped to his senses, slurringly apologized, and then toppled over with abandon, completely having passed out on his floor.

Needless to say, Morty hadn't slept a wink for the rest of that night.

He'd meant to bring it up to Rick the next day after school, but Rick had been gone without leaving a note. By the time Rick had returned, it was well past his bedtime, and he had a test the next day, so Morty went to bed early. Exhausted by a full day of school and homework, he'd collapsed on his bed, and was soon snoring loudly.

The next thing he knew, his room was flooded with light, and when he looked up, there was Rick, eyes bloodshot and narrowed as he stared down at him glaring dangerously. Morty's eyes widened with horror and he sat up in a panic. "Ri-WHAT-"

A harsh slap to his face left Morty shaking, holding his stinging skin in shock. "Ow! That hurt! Rick you hurt me! Why, why are you-"

"SHUT the hell up MORTY!" Another harsh blow nearly deafened him and before he could respond, Morty was sprawled out on the floor, hugging himself in terror as he stared up at Rick in disbelief.

"Rick…" Morty whimpered, his whole body shaking, eyes filling with tears as he stared up at his grandfather, who had never laid a hand on him before. "please…"

Rick simply responded by snatching him up by the collar, shoving him across the room and pinning him against the wall. Morty could only stare helplessly as Rick snickered sneering wickedly in his face, "Save it for the Zigerion Council, MORTY….I know you'll have plenty to report to them when we're done." His grandfather's breath was laden with the stench of alchohol and Morty had never seen Rick's eyes so red. His grandfather was completely intoxicated, more than Morty had ever seen him to be. He was acting completly unlike himself; Morty had never experienced anything like this from him before, and it terrified him to his very core.

"Wha..why are you doing this to me Rick?" Morty stammered weakly, nearly breathless as he struggled against Rick's persistant hold. "Wha-what's gotten into you?!"

"NOTHING'S gotten into ME, Morty," Rick declared, glowering back at Morty suspiciously, as he continued to keep Morty glued to the wall, "This isn't about ME. I KNOW I'm just a simulation MORTY-we're ALL just a bunch of simulations, and this is just someone's idea of a joke, and we're all the butt of it-you, me everyone! UNLESS," Rick concluded, with a leering grin that made Morty feel in the knees, "you can prove to me that I'm real….then….MAYBE there's hope for us, MORTY."

"Rick…" Morty's head was spinning. "I-I don't understand, what are you-"

"See what I mean? That's JUST like something a simulation Morty would say-typical! AND lame! C'mon, really? You guys couldn't do better than that!?" Rick, his hand still grasping Morty's shirt, whirled around the room, and helpless to do anything else, Morty spun around with him, thrown about like a ragdoll, "I mean seriousy, you're dealing with the smartest guy in the universe! How about getting someone with some actual talent this time around, huh? HUH!?"

"RICK! You're, you're REAL! Of COURSE you're real-how could you NOT be? I-I don't get it!" Morty felt his eyes stinging; his stomach lurched dangerously with each toss and turn dealt by Rick, and the room was spinning like a tilt-a-whirl. "What-what's going on? Ohhh...I'm gonna throw up Rick-please, stop it, just let me go!"

"Ah-ah-ah, MORTY-not this time." Without warning, Rick suddenly opened his fist and let Morty drop. Morty was about to scramble away, but once again, Rick was right in his face, breathing hot liquor-laden breath down his neck, hands on either side, and Morty was paralyzed with a fear he'd never expect to feel when looking up at someone he trusted, someone he called friend-more than family-someone he downright cherished and loved. "I'm gonna get the truth out of you Morty," Rick hissed in his face, "and I'm gonna get it NOW-and you're gonna make sure that-that I-that is to say we-willl…Unnnf-"

Before Morty could even comprehend what was happening, Rick's arms gave way and he plummeted down onto Morty with so much force that Morty almost passed out from the shock of his grandfather's weight.

When he opened his eyes, shivering uncontrollably, Morty was both horrified and relieved to find that Rick had passed out again, this time completely on top of his own grandson's body, and Morty was pinned to the floor, nearly unable to move.

"Oh geeze...oh Rick….oh my God, oh my God…" In spite of himself, Morty was beginning to hyperventilate. Part of him wanted to scream desperately for help, but another part didn't want to put the rest of his family in danger. He also knew he had to get himself out from under Rick somehow; it was really getting difficult to breath. His mind swam with a thousand different questions, replaying what had just happened over and over, and tears began to prick his eyelids; furious at them, Morty squeezed them back and shut his eyes, scrinching them up tight as he tried to free himself. "What the hell Rick...what the hell…." was all Morty could manage to mutter as he struggled to push and pull himself out from under Rick's stomach.

He could tell Rick was still alive (thank God) as the old man was beginning to snore-loudly-and while that was a relief, the thought also terrified him….because what was he going to do when Rick woke up? He could barely process what had just occured, let alone deal with a psychotic grandfather first thing in the morning. He had to get out from this death trap, and then he had to wake Rick up and keep him somehow safe and contained-and also-dare he think it-keep Rick from….killing him?

What had gotten into Rick to make him do someting like this? Morty was completely at a loss. He'd never seen Rick like this before. Sure, his grandfather was kind of crazy, but not that kind of crazy-never to the point of hurting him, or putting his life in danger. It was almost like someone or something had taken over Rick, and turned him into a completely different person. It scared Morty like nothing had ever scared him before...it terrified him to no end.

Somehow, Morty was able to finally free himself and dislodge his limbs, though when he managed to stand, he could barely walk; his legs felt like rubber. Rick lay in a heap on the floor, still snoring, completely oblivous to the terror he had just caused.

Hopefully he'll wake up on his own, Morty thought wearily, suddenly completely drained and having no motivation to do anything. Fearing the snoring might wake one of his family members, Morty tip-toed carefully over to the door, and quietly as possible closed it and turned the lock, checking twice to make sure it was secure.

He sat up the rest of the night, wide awake and watching Rick like a hawk, wondering what the first rays of daylight might bring.