Wubba Lubba Dub Dub! Rick x Reader

Left Behind: Grief

Two weeks later

I looked out the window, the sun peeking over the horizon.

"Damn, when was the last time I slept?"

I can hear his laughter in my mind. I can see that goofy smile on his face— the concentrated expression when he would build his inventions...

I can hear when he would whisper dirty things in my ear, or even him saying them out loud.

I remember when he cut off his drinking— when we had our first date... our first kiss...

Every time we rolled in the sheets.

The memories of his laughter— his wisdom, his unwavering support, swirl around me like a bittersweet symphony. While I wanted to find comfort in all he had done for me...

The sounds and memories only amplified whenever I was in his garage.

I was only suffocated.

I hadn't slept in some time— I couldn't even bring myself to close my eyes until I physically passed out. If I did, would I begin to forget you? Would I lose the vivid memories we shared?

They were so full of color.

I took my espresso and looked around the work desk before finding something with a thin level of dust on it.

Rick's flask.

After inspection, I realized it was whiskey, and proceeded to dump it in my espresso.

I needed to numb myself.

I need to concentrate.

How can I concentrate on the mundane details of circuitry and mechanics when every thought is consumed by the gaping hole in my heart?

His tools previously sat on his work desk untouched, each one a silent testament to his brilliance.

"Not even being the smartest man in the galaxy can keep you alive?"

My brain struggled to find clarity, yet, in my heart, it felt like things weren't over yet.

Our story feels unfinished.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, I forced myself to focus, channeling the love and admiration I felt for him into each delicate adjustment.

He always expressed his skepticism about time travel. He would mention the paradoxes it could create, but I didn't care.

I looked out the garage door to see a pair of birds standing on the driveway, seemingly talking to each other.

"I don't care if I die to keep you alive. I'll do whatever it takes because I can't live in a world where you left your legacy behind."

After an hour of focusing, on and off crying, and working later, Morty came into the garage.

"Morning, (Y/N). I brought you breakfast."

"You can just, uh, leave it on the table," I said, flipping up my welding mask. "Thanks."

"Uh, no problem," Morty walked past me and sat in the chair. "Are you gonna tell me what this does?"