Rick felt like a kid all over again. He was happily talking to Morty all day long, telling him things he never expected to share with anybody. He had spilled his soul, it seemed, opening up completely to the unconscious brunet once again. He seldom left his side, always looking at him with a fond smile.

       And that was how he knew it had started again. He fell for the brunet all over again, just like the beginning, but so much further. He never wanted to leave the brunet's side, but he knew he had to, because he managed to remember that the brunet really wanted nothing to do with Rick in the long run. 

      Yet that failed to dampen the fire in Rick's soul. He would eventually find a way to fix it all and have the brunet again, but Morty would never want that, regardless. So Rick had to make a decision, and he still felt as though he chose wrong.

       "Hey, Gary?" Rick responded once Gary answered the phone. "It's been a whole 'nother week, already. I'm... I'm just gonna go home, call it quits. He ain't waking up for some time, but if you and Gene wanna stop in, you should. I won't be anymore."

       "Oh." Gary muttered. Rick could hear movement, and a 'who is it?' in the background. "Yea, just letting you know. I'll let you get back to whatever you're up to." Rick shuddered at the giggle in the background, saying his goodbyes and hanging the phone up quickly.

       "You're never gonna let me leave, are ya?" Rick questioned with a sad chuckle. He stared down at Morty, brushing his curls away from his face. "But I gotta let you go. They ain't pulling no plugs on you. I guarantee that was just an unnecessary scare for the fun of it," Rick laughed lightly once more. 

       "But I know that, when you wake up - because I know you're a fighter and you will soon, because you always win - you won't wanna see me. So I'll do ya this favor. And, if you wanna know, come find me and I'll tell you where AJ is buried. I got him the most beautiful headstone, something he would love. It's got all his favorite cartoons an- well, you'll have to see it one day. It definitely fits him." Rick smiled fondly at Morty, though it didn't quite fit the sadness in his eyes, while retracting his hand and placing it in his pocket. "It was nice getting to talk to you again," he whispered.

       "I really like what he has to say," Morty commented, watching as the man exited the room as carefully as he had entered. "He seems like such a broken man."

"You never really did much to help that, you know. You two always fought; always. You were more stubborn than he was. Really. Childish heathen; you rapscallion, you." 

       The laughter at the end of the statement kept Morty from snapping at the voice, but it still stung just the same.

       "What were we like?"

"I've already told you it won't matter what I say because you won't remember when you wake up anyway."

       "That's fine," Morty affirmed, sitting on the edge of the cot. "I wanna know anyway. Tell me stories before I wake up, to pass the time? Please?"

"Ok." Morty heard the sigh, smiling all the same as he got comfortable.

"When you first met, I thought it was perfect. Heaven on earth. He was smitten since way before you met him, but it wasn't love at first sight. He was right about that. He really didn't know what to think. And, between you and me, he fell in love with your smile and a laugh he thought he'd never hear, because you get this sparkle in your eyes, just like he does. That's how you know it's real. If the sparkle wasn't there, you used to prod until it appeared. But something fell apart, and even I struggled to find what it was for the longest time. But it was you. You changed, turned into a self-entitled heathen of sorts. You were uncontrollable. And I'm not teasing. It started slow, but it snowballed. It grew fast, and suddenly it was hard to see how your relationship was good in any way. But it kind of was, in a certain sense. You used to fall back together just as easily as you would fall apart, but not anymore. Especially not now. 
"One time, and I know you probably don't wanna hear about it, he hurt you really bad. You came back to him after years of being gone, and you went back to work. He called you into a backroom where you worked, and he used you. You blacked out, and I literally got sick. That was when it really began to fall apart. He was a substance abuser and you were a severe antagonist. But he wanted to fix it, and he really tried. You two... it's hard anymore to see how you work, but you have to look really closely to see it. Because there's just something that you can't break between you, no matter how hard anybody tries. But I can tell you a lot of people will try."

       "How do you know what?" Morty interjected softly, curiously.

"Because I know everything about you, specifically. Your early life, your teen years, your present life, and I know what's going to happen in your future. Well, there are four paths right now."

       "Can you tell me what they are?"

"All I can say is two involve you waking up, and two do not. They also consist of your decision to stay with or leave Rick. I can't tell you anymore."

       "Because of some code?" Morty chuckled sadly to himself.

"No. We're out of time. Wake up, Morty. Wake up."

       Gary sighed quietly, he and Gene heading towards the hospital. He had waited til the next afternoon to go visit the kid, just because he hadn't wanted to show up around ten last night. He and Gene had spent some quality time together, trying to find a sort of peace. It felt like the world was falling apart around them, and they needed to escape for a while.

       "It's just like when I moved to Arizona, all over again," Gene muttered, his head leaning against the window. "I really thought he died. Now, he's in a coma." The man sat up some, now leaning his elbow on the door, and his head on his fist. "Do you think he'll wake up any time soon, Gar?"

       Gary flinched inwardly at the nickname. It was the only thing AJ would ever call him. Probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to do was attend a child's funeral, especially when the child had no parents there. It was just the bouncers and-... Well, in a sense, Rick did sort of qualify as his father. So that eased it some. But the few women that had inspected Morty's house had stopped, the judge, and others from the department. They had even offered to visit Morty in the hospital, all of them finding it hard to process everything. This perfect father in a coma, this little angel of a boy six feet under with his favorite Spongebob characters. A broken home now. 
       Gary had politely declined the offer, not really sure how he had felt about having so many folks go in to see Morty. And he wasn't sure the kid would want them there. He knew how Morty was about people seeing him like that. Well, he did. Now he wondered how well he knew the kid anymore. They hardly spoke, save for at the club, and the rare times they hung out at Gary's place, when Morty would drop AJ off.
       It seemed like the kid had been distancing himself from everybody. Maybe it was the stress of being a star at the club, wanted by so many folks with different intentions. None of them were pure, Gary knew that much. He just felt so damn guilty, not being there for his best friend. At least, he thought they were still best friends. He held Morty to the title, regardless, but he knew all the bouncers and dancers felt a sense of guilt, just the same.

       But nobody more so than Rick. He felt like he was responsible for all of it, and Gary didn't know how long he would stay in that mentality before he broke.

       Rick looked out over the club, seated in his chair behind the mirror. Gary was off work today, Gene no doubt with him instead of at the bar. Four o'clock came and went, and it was strange not seeing Morty behind the bar. Rick knew business would suffer again. But he'd had an announcement made, and a bulletin put out for the public to see. He didn't say where, not wanting folks to get too crafty, but he made it known that the star had suffered a tragedy. 

       His kid was killed in front of him, he had to fight with somebody he once considered one of his closest friends, and he was comatose for who knew how long. 

       It definitely changed the atmosphere of the club, somewhat. Folks were offering to start up a charity to help Morty's hospital bill get paid, others wanted to pay their respects. It was more solemn, but the atmosphere had been slowly changing. Either folks didn't care as much anymore, or they were trying not to let it bring them down; party in honor of a fun loving, angelic brunet. Have fun like he'd want you to, and all that jazz.

       A series of knocks drew Rick from his thoughts, a pattern of four and two, and the man was up from his chair, adjusting the meeting area before he was greeting them at the door. 

       Just Rick and his wits, like it always was. Whatever was left of them, anyway.

       "Hey, Sanchez!" came the greeting as Rick gave a short wave, "Georgie, how's it goin'?" The two walked down the short hall and settled into the chair, Rick propping his cheek on his fist as he watched the man adjust. "Ah, it's just been wonderful." 

      Rick nodded as though paying attention while the man spoke, but he was really focused on the lack of Morty all around. The brunet hadn't been part of a meeting in so long. He hadn't been in the club for over half a month now, stuck lying in that damned hospital bed.

       "But, then she told me about this place, and I thought that was cool," Rick heard as he tuned back in. "I saw the posters. Who was Morty?"

       Rick drew in a sharp breath, reaching for his whiskey. His acquaintance seemed to notice, "That bad, huh?"

       The club owner shrugged, sipping at his newly-poured glass. "He was my star dancer, and my best bartender. Now he's in a coma, and his kid was killed. Right in front of 'im."

       Georgie sat there with a dumbfounded look, eyes somewhat glossy, before he shook his head, coming back to reality, it seemed. "Jesus. Do you know who did it?" Rick drew his upper lip back in a snarl, "An old friend of mine. Sam. He was- Fuck, I can't even begin to explain him. But he got into some bad business, the kid helped him out of it, and then he got right back into some more bad business. Hopped up on so many things, it's hard to tell if he was even aware of who he was and what he was doing. But he got there, and I get a phone call from Morty's kid, and... I heard it. I heard almost everything that happened. Morty screaming, trying to get Sam out, either of his house or consciousness. I heard Sam scream bloody murder and I thought Morty was lucky and managed to knock him out or even kill 'im. But then . . . I heard something funny. I was..." Rick paused, staring into his glass while his free hand absentmindedly rubbed at his forehead. "I was hoping it was just static. Bad connection, y'know?" Georgie nodded in understanding, entranced by the tale Rick was telling.

       "But it wasn't bad connection at all. I heard Morty scream for his kid, and I heard the gunshot. I didn't hear anything else. I dropped my phone and tried to make it to his house faster than possible. When I walked in, AJ w-- his kid was long gone, and Morty musta just hit the ground. I heard what must have been him hit the table just before I walked in. The door was already open, I don't know why the hell nobody investigated the screaming." Rick sighed gently, setting his glass down on the table as he became disinterested in his drink anymore. "Sam was still in there, his face all mangled. Morty got him with boiling water, but I dunno why he didn't grab his gun from his nightstand. He was in his room with Sam at one point, it musta been in reach, but I don't know. I just know I ignored him until he charged me with a kitchen knife. Cut my shoulders up pretty good, but I finally managed to shut him up." 

       Rick felt his stomach grow hot with anger and torment, all the rage and sadness that he had experienced in the moment. "Morty wasn't responsive. He barely had a pulse. I thought he'd be dead by the time my dumb ass finally got to that hospital. But he's comatose, and they don't know if he'll ever wake up."

       Georgie looked as though he was about to cry, in all actuality, as the man stared at Rick with the most apologetic expression he'd seen in the longest time. "How did... how did you know you were supposed to get there?"

       "His kid called me up and said 'daddy told me to be quiet' and 'Uncle Sam's here'. Sam had been Morty's roommate before he disappeared and went batshit. But none of us ever saw this coming."

       "His kid called you. . ." Georgie whispered incredulously, shaking his head as he sat back on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. After a moment, he broke the silence again. "Word on the street was, that man had all the power." Rick nodded in affirmation, resting his ankle on his opposite knee now as his hand fell to rest on his thigh, eyes trained to the floor. "He was in charge. I don't know what's gonna happen while he's in a coma, but if anything I'll take over for him. He always did say - at the beginning anyway - that he didn't want it. He never wanted anything he got."

       "Some folks think you two were a thing, y'know," Georgie added, interrupting Rick slightly. "We all have bets going." The man gave a soft chuckle, though went silent as Rick only seemed further distant. 

       "Nah," he muttered, reaching for his whiskey again. 

       "We were never -- There was nothing there."