Eviternity: Book 1 Jerry's World

Thirteen

                              Rick

Rick laid on his now one-level bed, acting like he didn't notice the looks Jesper and Brutus gave him. Yes, maybe he'd completely tore apart the top half of his bunk in an animalistic fury and yes, perhaps he'd threatened to eat their throats out and rape them, but still. He wasn't crazy.

When guards had arrived in the night carrying a sleeping Morty between them Rick had almost attacked them, too. But Morty's chest had risen and fallen with soft breaths and he wasn't crying like he sometimes did in his sleep.

So instead of attacking the guards, Rick simply took Morty from their arms, cradling the limp body in his grip, carrying him to the bed and holding the child to his chest, for once not sickened by the feel of human flesh. Morty didn't wake up while Rick held him in his lap, gently rocking the sleeping boy.

Rick had gently touched Morty's curly hair, then his face, brushing his fingertips over the curve of Morty's cheeks. Satisfied that the boy wasn't hurt, Rick had eventually laid Morty down and covered him up, laying beside him and trying to sleep as well.

And now he was helping Morty tie his shoes, cursing himself for his unleash of emotion. Why? Why couldn't he just feel the same way about Morty as he did about everyone else? What was it about the stupid, stuttering, squeaky voiced, brat that made him willing to murder?

"There you go, butterball." The nickname made Morty laugh and Rick quickly smothered the flicker of happiness that threatened to light up in his chest.

Don't you dare, he told himself. You know what'll happen if you let yourself care. Good Ricks always end up dead.

Standing up and wiping his hands on his jumpsuit, Rick was the first out the cell door when it rattled open.

~~~
A week passed with each day mirroring the one before. Wake up, push Morty away, eat breakfast, work, fight off touchy men, eat again, work some more, fight off some more men, eat one last time, shower, sleep.

Twice, Morty was pulled from the crowd and away from Rick. He told himself that it didn't matter. So what if the kid got a little roughed up? But each time Morty was brought back Rick checked him carefully, looking for any sign that he was hurt. So far, he was untouched.

Sitting in a corner of the rec room, Rick was trying his best to explain something to Morty. "Y-Y-Y-Y-Ya know, Morty, you're way too- too trusting, Morty. Ya gotta be a little more self-preserving, Morty. Morty. Are you listening, Morty?"

Rick rapped his knuckles against the boy's head and Morty huffed. "Yeah yeah, Rick. I just don't know what you're worried about."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "I-I-Is that so?"

Morty nodded. "Everyone's nice to me here, Rick! N-N-No one hits me because of how I beat those other guys, a-and they're scared of Brutus and Cassias, and when we're working Clancy helps me."

"The hell's Clancy?"

"Red hair."

"Ah." That was enough of an explanation.

"A-And The Warden is really nice too."

Rick stiffened at the mention of The Warden. "I don't like him, Morty. He's a filthy creature."

"Oh, and I suppose you have any right to talk!"

Rick grabbed Morty by the shoulders and forced the boy to look him in the eyes. "Actually, I do, Morty. Twisted, disgusting things like me and him, we recognize each other. We know when someone else is all rotten inside, because we see that same rot every day when we look at our own reflections." Morty was cringing from Rick's harsh voice.

"Y-You're not that bad..."

Morty's whimpered words shocked Rick into letting him go. Sitting back, he studied Morty's face for a second. "You really are a piece, kid."

"Hey, Morty." Cassias walked over, arms crossed, piercings glinting in the sunlight that slanted through the barred windows. "You alright buddy?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, Cass."

"Well, you just holler if you need me." With a distrustful glance at Rick, Cassias turned and walked back into the crowd.

Rick motioned towards Cassias' retreating form and said, "Even he knows, Morty. I don't get why you have so much faith in my 'good nature', or whatever." Morty didn't answer. Instead he just crossed his arms and looked out the window, watching the small patch of blue sky.

Rick huffed and sat back on his haunches, looking out at the shifting, brawling, snarling inmates. Suddenly, there was a shift in the movement of bodies, a pressing back and parting. Rick recognized the movement. Guards had just arrived.

Moving in front of Morty, hoping to hide him just a little, Rick growled low in his throat. When the inmates inevitably moved aside and allowed three guards to stop in front of Rick, the lower class man was on all fours, snarling like a rabid dog, snapping his jaws and growling.

Two of the guards, younger by the look of them, glanced nervously at each other. Neither wanted to approach the seemingly mad man. The third scowled at their hesitation and shoved them forward, resulting in both letting out small squeals of surprise. Rick jumped on their sign of fear, rearing up on his knees and swiping at the closest one.

They both jumped back and tugged frantically for the short swords latched onto their belts.

"H-Hey, don't do that." Morty patted Rick's hair, much to the older man's disgust, and walked around him. "It's fine guys. Don't worry about him, he's mostly harmless."

"I-I-I-Is that so, Morty?" Rick sat down, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah." Morty nodded and looked back at his grandfather, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. One of the guards offered his hand and Morty took it, his tiny mitt almost disappearing in the guard's larger one.

Rick sat on the ground and watched as Morty was drawn away, staring at the small boy's back until the press of the crowd blocked him from view.

Why was it so damn hard to just let that kid go?