A/N: Because I can't just seem to let a one-shot be a one-shot….here's a second chapter, and you know there'll be a third. (Haha.)

"Because that's what you should have done all along, you stupid selfish prick."

Rick left the table, heading in the direction of his bedroom, when he halted in his tracks: Morty.

Morty was standing there, his mouth hanging open.

He'd been listening; he'd heard the whole thing.

And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Rick didn't know what to say or what to do, and he hated it. This wasn't any of Morty's business and he shouldn't have been listening in on a conversation he never should have heard to begin with.

And now he knew. He knew that Rick had wanted to end it. Rick stood looking at his grandson, then looked sharply away. He couldn't look his own grandson in the eye. He didn't want to see Morty's tears, tears that were surely streaming down his naive little face. What could he say to make things better? Nothing, so he didn't say a thing.

"R-Rick….?" Morty whimpered, still in shock, begging for an explanation-something, anything.

But Rick wouldn't look at him. "Go to bed, M-Morty," he huffed gruffly, before shoving past Morty on the way to his bedroom.

Morty watched, stunned, as his grandfather stormed past down the hallway. The door slammed, and Morty was left alone. He could hear movements from the kitchen: his father. He'd been heading for the kitchen to get himself a midnight snack. The last thing he'd expected was to stumble upon his father and his grandfather having such a heated conversation.

Now, he was torn. He wanted to know why, and he almost went into the kitchen to ask his father about it, but then his dad would know he'd been evesdropping, and that was the last thing he wanted….that, and for Rick to be angry at him….for Rick to be anything but happy.

Except Rick was anything but happy.

Why?

He remembered the look on Rick's face the day before. When he'd told them, "I'll be in the garage." Was that when….?

Morty felt sick. He wasn't hungry anymore. He left the hallway and stumbled back into bed, trying not to think about all the questions he didn't and probably wouldn't ever have any answers to.

Stupid lousy no-good idiots, was all Rick could think as he tried to fall blissfully into an alcohol-induced haze of oblivion. That idiot had probably thought of himself as a hero for saving him. And now, Morty would know he'd tried to take the coward's way out. He'd know what he really was.

He knew coming back here was a mistake. He should never have come back here at all. They thought they knew him, who he was, but they knew nothing.

They would know in the morning.

He'd make sure of that.