Thanks for the reviews of Chapter 2 and for returning for Chapter 3, the final chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it:

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Chapter 3

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After paying Slippery Stair to take them back down the stairs, Rick and Morty handed over the schmeckles to the grateful villagers. While the villagers thanked Morty and Morty looked genuinely happy again, Rick had sat back and watched with his arms crossed over his chest. He wondered if Morty's mind was as disturbed by this as Rick's was. He was certain the boy hadn't forgotten the assault already, but he did seem preoccupied by the praises of the villagers now. Was he able to just not think about it and actually avoid feeling the fresh memories crushing him down? Or was his mind troubled even when he looked distracted? Rick couldn't tell...

As soon as Rick heard one of the villagers whispering to another about the shocking news that their king had been found blown to bits in the bathroom of The Thirsty Step, he'd gotten Morty out of there. The last thing his grandson needed was to be reminded of the ordeal, or worse - have to face another convoluted court trial. Explaining that King Jellybean had been killed in self-defense wasn't going to get them off the hook for this very easily. It takes a lot to convince a village that their loving king was a child molester.

So they'd used a portal to go back home and had somewhat awkwardly parted ways once they reached the garage. Rick didn't know what Morty had gone off to do, but he knew what he wanted, and that was to drown his sorrows with alcohol.

For the past couple hours, Rick had been tinkering with some of the devices he had been working on while taking frequent swigs out of a bottle of hard liquor. Even though he was fairly confident he was fucking up the projects he experimenting on more than advancing them in any way, he kept messing around with them, if only to give himself something to do. The longer he worked, the more he drank, and the more the various elements of the device he was messing with were destroyed. He couldn't even think right now. He was too preoccupied with feelings of regret and guilt.

Morty was a very dependent person - and of course he was - he was a child... Though Rick was constantly putting him in danger during their missions, the old man also always kept a close watch on the boy. He knew how to keep Morty relatively safe. Even if Rick appeared careless a lot of the time, he wasn't as bad as he seemed. He did keep Morty close most of the time. Even if he got them into dangerous situations, he never left Morty behind or took off running without dragging Morty along with him.

During the adventures Rick led, he expected danger - so he watched Morty better. He was always ready for some giant creature to jump out and attack or for someone to start shooting at them. He was ready for it. Morty's stupid fucking fantasy land adventure had seemed so safe. Rick had let his guard down, and Morty had suffered because of it.

With a frustrated groan, Rick slammed down the screwdriver he'd been using to fiddle with one of his inventions and took another long drink from his bottle of alcohol, emptying the last of it into his mouth and down his chin before letting it fall from his hand and crash against the floor.

"Son of a bitch," Rick grumbled as he snatched at the air well after the bottle had already landed with a crash. "Whatever," He grumbled when he remembered it had been empty anyway. He left it where it landed, hoping he wouldn't forget it was there and step on it later.

Rick stood and paced across the garage floor before stumbling and falling against an old, beat up couch he'd stolen from one of the neighbors while they had been moving in. The couch served as a place for him to sleep when he was too lazy or too drunk to make his way into the house after a night of working in the garage, but he rarely used it even for that - often opting to just pass out and sleep in the middle of the floor instead. He didn't ever sleep that long anyway.

"Rick," Rick looked toward the door, his vision spinning as he noticed Morty standing awkwardly in the doorway between the house and the garage. "Can- Can I talk to you for a minute?"

With a groan, Rick dragged himself up so that he was in a sitting position and patted the cushion next to him. "S-sure thing, Morty." He slurred. He dreaded what the boy might want to talk about. Nothing was going to fix what had happened. They didn't need to talk about it. It had happened. Rick had fucked up. He felt bad enough about it already.

Morty offered a small smile as he made his way across the floor and sunk down onto the couch. He sat up straight with his hands on his lap as he stared out the open garage door into the darkness of the street. "Did you mean to leave the door open, Rick?" Morty wondered with a frown as he glanced over at his grandfather.

"Uh-" Rick looked over toward the door and then turned back to Morty. He didn't remember opening the door, but figured it didn't matter much whether it was open or not. "I, uh... I don't know, Morty... I dont know... W-what do you want, Morty?"

Morty frowned and looked down. "I know you t-tell me to just not think about things that are bothering me... B-but that's really hard - really hard to do, you know? I... I feel bad, Rick. I can't - I'm not like you. Things bother me, Rick. Y-you might not - you might not care much when s-scary or horrib-terrible things happen ar-around you. It might be, you know, easy for you, for you to just not think about it and forget, but I don't f-forget that fast..." He was talking so quickly, stumbling over his words even worse than Rick was - and Rick was quite drunk.

Rick stared at him. What did he want though? What did he want Rick to do about it? "And...?" He asked, unable to keep himself from being a little more blunt than he probably should have been right now.

Morty pouted and glanced toward the door back to the house as if contemplating abandoning this conversation. "I-" He paused. "I just wanna... I wanna t-talk things out... Try to make myself n-not feel so bad."

Rick shook his head and sighed loudly as he leaned dramatically back against the couch. "Why would you feel bad? The guy who should feel bad is dead. The other guy who should feel bad is too drunk to feel bad."

Morty leaned forward slightly and turned toward his grandfather so he could look directly into his eyes. "I feel bad because I made a stupid mistake and al-almost got-" He paused. "I don't know why you'd feel bad, but I feel bad b-because I screwed up. I-I overestimated my-myself, and said the wrong thing to the wrong person, and led him on, and-"

"No. No no no no," Rick shook his head and sat up straighter, putting his hands heavily on Morty's shoulders and staring into his eyes. "No. No, Morty... Lead him on? Wh-what? What the fuck are you even saying right now? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"N-no, Rick," Morty frowned. "I'm not. I did a lot of dumb things, s-said dumb things... You weren't there... I-I messed up... Over and over again. I-I'm really s-stupid, Rick."

Rick narrowed his eyes. He couldn't believe he actually had to explain to Morty that it wasn't his fault some disgusting creep had decided to attack him. "W-what exactly did-" He paused to belch, "What did you say or do to make you think this is some-somehow your fault?"

Morty looked down at his hands, which were resting on his lap. Rick noticed the boy had showered since they got back. He was wearing a t-shirt, boxer shorts, and socks. Rick could see bruises forming up and down his arms, on his face, and around his neck. Jerry and Beth were going to be pissed with Rick if they noticed those bruises.

"Hm?" Rick repeated as he stared into his grandson's eyes. He couldn't help but to feel aggravated with the kid. How could Morty think it was his own fault that someone had attacked him? "What do- do y-you think you did wrong?" Rick asked, slurring his words and glaring down at his grandson.

"Lots of things," Morty shrugged and let out a tired sigh. "First, I got arrogant and thought I could lead an adventure that was safe. I-I mean, there's, there's a reason, you know, w-why we're always almost dying. Adventures are- they're dangerous, Rick. The universe is chaotic and terrible, and you-you were right about that. It's not just you that causes this stuff... It's adventures in general. I got cocky. I th- I thought I could... I was stupid, Rick."

Rick frowned. He didn't want Morty to be as jaded and pessimistic as his grandfather. "The universe isn't all bad, Morty. Those little stair people were fuckin' adorable, right? Your adventure was fine. It was great even. There just happened to be a weird, creepy guy there. Those fuckers exist all over the place. It wasn't anything y-you did wrong."

Morty smiled at Rick's mention of the stair-shaped people from the pub, but frowned and looked back down as soon as his grandpa finished his thought. "I wasn't careful enough..." Morty pouted as he said this. "And I did kinda lead him on... He- while he was pushing me back into the stall, and w-wouldn't let me leave, he said I was being a tease, and maybe I was... I didn't know I was doing it... I-I didn't mean to-"

"You're fucking joking," Rick stared at him. "There's no fucking way for a fu-fucking fourteen year old kid to be a tease. T-that guy was a grown ass man- er- Jellybean fuckin' thing... He should'a known better... The second you told him to back off, he should'a backed off - no matter what kinda fuckin' signal he may have thought you were sending - wh-which, by the way - I highly fucking doubt you were sending any kinda signal, intentional or not. Holy fuck, Morty..."

Morty shook his head as tears pooled in his eyes. "He was t-talking to me, a-and I told him all about our adventure. It wasn't any of - of his business, but I just t-told him anyway... I trusted him right away, like an idiot... and then I implied that- you know, that I was cool with-like whatever. I said it. I said I was- that I should- That I should just go- go with the flow, like I was up for anything... and then he said it later, that I sh-should go with the flow, right? Like- like he thought I was talking about something else... Maybe I accidentally suggested something to him, without, you know, without knowing what I was saying... and when he grabbed me at first, I didn't tell him no. I- I just kinda shrugged away. I didn't wan-want to be rude... and then he grabbed me again, and m-maybe I shoulda- should have been more clear..."

"I'm sure you were clear enough," Rick frowned. "He just didn't care. This is his fault, not yours. You did nothing wrong. You should be allowed to walk into a bathroom by yourself without being attacked. You should be allowed to fucking talk to someone without them thinking you - you want them to fucking molest you. Son of a bitch, Morty. You're a kid... Even if you blatantly came onto him, he had no right to lay a damn finger on you. Don't blame yourself for this."

With a sigh, Morty leaned back against the couch. "That was really scary back there, Rick," He spoke in a small voice. "Y-you know, it kinda seems... seems like placing the blame some-somewhere more controllable would ma-make it less scary. I-if you're telling me there's - that there's nothing I could h-have done different-differently, then... how..." Morty's voice was increasing in volume as he sounded like he was losing control over his emotions. "So- so this kinda stuff... this kinda stuff is just gonna happen sometimes? That's it? Well... well I guess fr-from now on, if, you know, if I go to the bathroom, and - and I'm not back in, you know, like two minutes, please come and f- and find me, Rick... Because I- What else can I do? I can't go to a bathroom by myself? There's nothing I can do? Th-this is just part - part of life then, huh? I guess- I shouldn't, you know, talk to anyone, you know, like ever again..."

Rick shook his head and closed his eyes. "You don't need to do anything any different, Morty," Rick told him. "I'm the one who fucked up this time. I'll admit that."

Morty frowned and narrowed his eyes. "N-no you didn't... You didn't do anything wrong..."

"Yeah, I did, Morty..." Rick sighed and put his fingertips against his forehead. "I didn't wanna g-get into this with you... To talk about this... I didn't wanna think about it, but I mostly didn't want you to think about it. This is heavy shit, Morty... I'm irresponsible and I fucked up."

"You-" Morty hesitated. "You are irresponsible... But I-"

"No, no no no no," Rick put his finger over Morty's lips, silencing him. "Shhh. Shut... No. You did nothing wrong. How many fucking times do I have to say it? I'm your fucking grandpa, Morty. I'm supposed to protect you."

"You did," Morty interrupted, frowning and shrinking down when Rick scowled down at him. "Rick, you did protect me..."

"Not fast enough," Rick stared at him. "When you left me at the table in the pub, I was thinking, 'Good. Go. Get away from me. Whatever...' You were pissing me off, Morty. I was sick of your shit... So you left, and I didn't sit there thinking, 'Better make sure my fourteen-year-old fucking grandson makes it back okay after wandering off all alone in a strange fucking pub in the middle of weird fantasy-fucking-land...' No, I was thinking about gambling." Rick heard his own voice raising in volume as he was becoming more and more upset with himself. "I didn't care what you were doing. I was out there playing cards and singing karaoke while you were being attacked. No one was looking for you. You were gone for ten minutes, at least... Maybe even longer. And no one was looking for you. NO ONE. That was my job. I was supposed to be the- the one who was thinkin' about that. Thinking about when you should be back and looking for you if it took too long... But I didn't care."

"But you did come and look for me, Rick," Morty squeaked. "If anyone else heard me screaming, or heard him throw- you know, throwing me around, they didn't come to see what was going on. No one came in but you. I th-thought I didn't need you with me. If I can't blame myself for this, you can't blame yourself either. I do need you, Rick, and you did exactly what you were supposed to... Exactly what I needed you to do."

Rick stared at his grandson, at the bruises on his skin and at his wide eyes, brimming with un-shed tears. Rick wanted to cry too. Morty didn't have the strength to protect himself a lot of the time. Both Rick and Morty knew that. "I just wish I'd have been quicker, Morty," Rick spoke in a more calm voice.

"I wish I had been quicker too," Morty forced a nervous laugh. "I mean, I started to realize this guy was - you know, being k-kinda weird, and I decided to leave, but I wa-wasn't fast enough either... Still not my fault. Not your fault... Only his. You-you said it earlier, Rick. Y-you said it was no one's fault but his. I can accept that if you can."

Rick sighed and leaned back against the couch. He felt so defeated. He'd put Morty in danger countless times, but he'd never expected something like this. Sure, he knew things like that were totally possible... it just seemed to him more like something to avoid in everyday life. Something he could make sure didn't happen just by telling Morty not to get into any strange vans or take candy from weird dudes in trench coats. During adventures where actual monsters might jump out from behind a rock and literally eat people alive, he didn't think he'd have to deal with something like this.

The dangers he was used to were easy to spot - fire, guns, monsters, bombs... It was much more difficult to know when some random guy was thinking nasty thoughts and considering acting upon them. Maybe Morty was right - maybe Rick hadn't fucked up as much as he thought. When Morty said he was going to the bathroom, Rick had no reason to believe something sinister waited for his grandson there. Most young teenagers could go into a public bathroom without anyone worrying about their well-being. And Rick had gone to check on him as soon as he realized the boy hadn't ever come back. He didn't know he should have been timing the kid. He didn't know something like this would happen.

"It's no one's fault but his, Rick," Morty told him again as he leaned against his grandfather's shoulder and closed his eyes. "It wasn't that bad anyway... He didn't hurt me that bad. It was scary, but I've been scared before... B-big deal, right?" He offered a slight laugh. "It's like you said... Just don't think about it. I'm okay now. It was scary, but it's over. I-I just won't think about it."

Rick nodded slowly as he put his arm around his grandson's shoulders and stared out the open garage door. His vision still swam slightly due to him still being heavily under the influence of all the alcohol he'd consumed, but he was largely used to that by now. He could tell Morty was making light of a situation that honestly bothered him quite a bit. He wouldn't have come out here to talk about it if he didn't care. Rick certainly didn't want to push him, and talking probably wouldn't solve shit... but he wondered if he was a bad influence on his grandson in more ways than he ever realized. Rick taught himself to repress negative feelings, and it probably wasn't healthy... Now he was teaching Morty to do the same thing.

"You don't have to keep any secrets, M-Morty," Rick finally spoke in a slurred voice as he leaned his head over so that his cheek rested on the top of Morty's head. "You can- uh... talk about shit if, you know, if that's something that makes you feel better... I- uh... I know I say 'don't think about it,' when something fucked up happens... but look how that's working for me," He offered a sarcastic laugh.

Morty snuggled closer against Rick's side. "It's working fine," He spoke in a calm, even voice.

Rick exhaled. He didn't want his grandson to grow up and be like him. His mind was a mess. Repressed feelings never went away completely. They always showed themselves later, maybe in the form of rage or alcoholism, or even just being reckless. He wanted Morty to care about himself more than Rick cared about himself. He didn't want Morty to be the sad, aloof disaster Rick was.

"Well... you know I don't talk about shit... like, if anything's fuckin' my mind, it stays in my mind," Rick reminded him. "But you're not me... and you can do whatever - whatever you need to do, or want to do. What happened to you was fucked up. You- You don't gotta pretend like it wasn't."

"I know," Morty leaned against Rick more heavily as he yawned. "Y-you don't have to pretend like stuff's okay either, Rick, you know, w-when it's not."

Rick squeezed his arm protectively around his grandson's shoulders as he continued staring out the garage door. "I know," He frowned.

As Rick continued staring out the garage door, he held securely but gently onto his grandson as Morty fell into a peaceful sleep. Maybe talking about things was therapeutic, but it was also really painful. Talking out emotions was really fucking terrifying... It was one of the things Rick feared most... and he was honestly offended with himself right now for being so aware of his emotions after drinking so much... That's not how it was supposed to work.

He glanced down at Morty who was breathing slow, even breaths as he snuggled against Rick's chest, gripping his grandfather's shirt in his hands as though fearful that failing to hold on would make the man disappear.

"I'm sorry, Morty," Rick spoke in a low whisper so that no one else could hear him. Rick's grandson was a very vulnerable person - he was still a child - a teenager, but pretty small anyway. He was naive, gullible, and often way too trusting. Hell, he'd probably seen that jellybean-shaped fucker and immediately trusted him just because he seemed like such a fucking cartoonish joke. Morty didn't expect someone who looked like a candyland character to hurt him. He needed someone to be watching out for him, especially if he was going to be accompanying Rick on his adventures.

Even if he and Morty had both agreed that what had happened was no one's fault except King Jellybean's, Rick didn't know that he was ever going to stop wondering what he could have done to prevent this. He knew Morty was naive and not exactly physically strong. He knew his grandson was vulnerable to all sorts of things. Rick could have easily been more careful.

He and Morty were so damn lucky that things hadn't been much worse. If Rick had decided to go another round at karaoke or play some more cards, Morty would have been hurt so much more than he already had been. Maybe he would have even been killed. Rick was able to repress a whole lot of emotional pain, but there was no way he'd have been able to repress that.

He sighed as he continued watching his grandson sleep. "I won't let anyone ever do anything like that to you... ever again. I promise," He said in another low whisper.

"I know," Morty whispered back as he gripped Rick's shirt even tighter.

Rick grimaced. Morty wasn't supposed to hear that. "You awake?" He wondered in a quiet voice, leaning forward slightly so he could see the boy's face better. Morty didn't answer. He must have been talking in his sleep.

With an exhausted exhale, Rick leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. He had to let this go. He'd pushed everything else he didn't want to think about to the back of his mind. This ordeal needed to join the others. Things like this could never be erased from his memory completely, but Rick was damn well going to try.

'Don't think about it,' He thought silently to himself as he held his grandson close. Things could have been so much worse. Morty was safe. Morty was okay. He was resilient. What he'd been through was rough and terrifying, but it could have been much, much worse. He was fine now. He was fine. Morty was fine.

'Don't think about it,' Rick thought to himself again as he felt more and more tired. He could feel Morty's chest rising and falling softly against him as the boy was cuddled up very close. The poor kid trusted Rick so much more than he ever should have... He assumed when he was with his grandfather that he would be okay... maybe in danger at times, but always okay in the end. He trusted Rick to keep him from harm, or to at least save him before things escalated too far... Rick not only failed to get Morty's attacker away from him quickly, but also almost failed to save him at all.

He couldn't forget that he'd nearly left the bathroom before realizing Morty was there. He walked right up to the door, talked to the guy who was in the process of attacking his grandson, and almost walked right back out. Morty didn't realize how close he'd come to not being saved at all. 'Don't think about it.' Rick demanded again in his head.

He rubbed his hand gently over Morty's arm, "You're okay," He said softly. He knew Morty was asleep and would never know he said it... He was saying it for himself more than anything. Morty was okay. Everything was fine.

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THE END

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. :)

(I've got another story in-progress as we speak... The next one doesn't really expand on an existing episode. Its more original, but hopefully people will enjoy it... Stay vigilant. I'll probably begin posting it within the next week or two. It's longer than this one, but I don't plan on it being super-long.)