Rick in a Pickle

The door clicked shut with a soft finality that echoed louder in Rick's mind than any slam ever could. He stared at the empty space Morty had occupied, the faint scuff mark on the floor where his chair had been pushed back, the quiet hum of machinery that filled the garage like a slow, creeping fog.

Rick sat there, elbows braced against his knees, hands steepled in front of his face, eyes boring holes into the floor. For a long moment, he didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't even breathe right.

Two choices. Only two.

Open him up… or admit the truth.

He could take that chip stick it in Morty's skull, crack him open, read him like a blueprint, slice through neurons, unravel his consciousness like a badly coded AI until every secret spilled out under the surgical glare of lab lights.

It wouldn't even take that long. He'd done it before. Worse. To worse.

And Morty… Morty wouldn't stop him. That was the part that twisted the knife. Morty had just sat there offered it up. No fear. No anger. No fight. Like a volunteer for dissection. Like a man accepting his fate because he'd already decided it couldn't hurt him.

Rick closed his eyes, the sharp ache behind them pressing deep into his skull.

Or…

Or he could admit the truth. The one clawing at the edges of his gut, whispering in the hollow of his chest.

He'd made Morty this way.

Not a glitch. Not a parasite. Not some alien infection or cosmic possession. Not even an evil alternate.

This… this was his doing.

Every mission. Every brush with death. Every night Morty went home shaking, blood on his hands, vomit on his shoes, another horror stamped into his brain with no therapy, no debrief, no father figure stepping in to say, "That was wrong."

Rick Sanchez, genius, scientist, universe's biggest asshole… had molded his grandson into a mirror. A reflection.

But better.

Sharper.

Colder.

Unbreakable.

Rick sucked in a shaky breath, the burn in his lungs mixing with something thicker, heavier.

Didn't I want this? Didn't I push for this?

He remembered it every moment. The missions where Morty froze up and Rick barked at him, mocked him, dragged him forward anyway. The lessons on how emotions were a liability, how trust would get you killed, how caring was a weakness the universe punished.

And Morty… little Morty… had listened. Had learned.

Had become.

Rick's jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands shook, knuckles pressed white against each other.

What the hell have I done?

The chip sat there on the bench, its metallic surface gleaming faintly under the overhead light. Silent. Waiting.

Rick stared at it like it might whisper the answer.

If I open him up… I'll know. I'll know if he's still Morty.

But if I don't…

Then I have to live with the fact that I broke him. On purpose.

He reached out, fingers hovering over the chip, the faint hum of its alien circuitry brushing his skin like a cold breath.

He could do it.

And God help him, a part of him wanted to.

To cut, to examine, to analyze because science was clean. Science didn't judge. Science just gave you the data. No guilt. No horror. Just answers.

But this wasn't some alien organism or unknown tech. This was his grandson.

His.

Rick let out a soft, bitter laugh.

His creation.

He'd wanted an heir. A legacy. Someone who could carry the torch, finish the work, outlive him in the only way that mattered.

And Morty… sweet, stuttering, trembling Morty… had become that legacy.

But better.

Stronger.

Colder.

Perfect.

Rick's throat burned. He slammed his fist down onto the bench, the crack of bone against metal ringing sharp in the stillness.

"Fuck!"

The word echoed back at him, thin and empty.

He pressed his hand flat against the table, leaning over it, head bowed.

I didn't want this.

Did I?

He thought of Morty's face tonight. Calm. Unflinching. Staring him down across the dinner table like an equal or worse, like a rival. Like a king watching a pawn scuttle across the board.

He'd seen that look before.

In mirrors.

In enemies.

In himself.

Rick closed his eyes tight. The image burned there anyway. That faint, knowing smile. That look that said, "I see you. I know you. And you can't touch me."

What the fuck have I done?

He pulled in a slow breath through his teeth, the sound sharp in the quiet.

If I open him up… I'll kill what's left of him.

If I don't…

I'll have to live with the fact that I built this. Made this. Broke him.

He thought of every time he'd dismissed Morty's fears. Every time he'd shoved him forward. Every time he'd said, "Grow up."

Morty had grown up.

Into this.

Rick opened his eyes. Stared at the chip.

A scientist. A genius. The smartest man in the universe.

And this… this was his masterpiece.

His curse.

His legacy.

He let out a slow, bitter exhale.

Congratulations, Rick. You got what you wanted.

The chip lay silent. Innocent. Like it wasn't the key to the last thread of hope he hadn't realized he'd been clinging to.

Hope that Morty was still in there.

Hope that this wasn't his fault.

Hope that the monster at the table wasn't the boy who used to stammer his way through science class and flinch at every loud noise.

Rick's throat closed tight.

I did this.

And maybe… maybe the real fear wasn't that Morty had changed.

Maybe it was that Morty had become exactly who Rick had always been.

He laughed a low, cracked sound that scraped out of his chest like a dying cough.

He pressed both hands flat against the bench, head bowed between them, shoulders shaking with something too sharp for laughter, too hollow for rage.

This is who I am.

This is what I do.

I destroy everything I touch.

And now… now I have to decide if I destroy him all the way.

Or let him live… knowing I built this.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes locking on the chip.

The choice stared back at him.

Science.

Or guilt.

Surgery.

Or acceptance.

Rip him open… or live with the fact that this was all his fault.

He reached out, fingers curling slowly around the chip.

It felt warm. Alive.

Rick's hand trembled.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck…"

The word slipped out low. Barely a whisper.

When he opened his eyes again, the chip lay in his palm.

He stared at it.

He could do it.

Slide it in. Open Morty's mind. Know everything.

And lose him.

Or…

Put it down.

And live with the monster he'd made.

Rick swallowed hard.

The garage hummed around him.

He stared.

And the silence sat heavy, waiting.