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Morty sat on his bed and stared down at the two fortune cookies he held delicately in his hands. He had been keeping them in a plastic bag underneath his bed, constantly thinking about 'when' and 'if' he should use them. At first writing the fortunes had been a spur-of-the-moment type deal. He hadn't been thinking clearly. Or maybe...
Maybe he had been thinking clearly.
After seeing Rick's past and learning about his history, Morty couldn't say that anything about the man was happy or healthy at all. And the fact that he had been and is still obsessed only with finding Rick Prime and gaining vengeance made everything about this broken life worse.
Broken. That's what they were. Three members of this family were from completely different realities, smashed together by mistakes, carnage and burden. A broken, tragic mess in which every single one of them fought to ignore and black out.
After realizing that it was all because of Ricks' that the entire universe was a mess, Morty couldn't help but to some times wonder what life would have been like had his own biological grandpa not messed things up. It wasn't hard to imagine. C-137 Rick would have gotten to live a simple, long, full life with his family. And Rick Prime... Well... Morty didn't know what his problem was, but he did remember what he wrote down in the fortune.
"Everyone will be reborn but this time your biological grandpa Rick will be loving and supportive of his family, and your favorite grandpa Rick will get to live the life he's always wanted."
"At age fourteen, all of the memories you have now will return to you in the rebirth."
Those were the fortunes. After he snuck in on Jerry and Rick's crazy cookie adventure, he couldn't help but to snag the opportunity while it lasted. When no one had been looking, he snatched two empty cookies and stuffed personalized fortunes in them. He didn't know why those were the fortunes he wrote.
Morty could have written anything; going on a successful date with Jessica, visiting Boob World, finding Rick Prime, getting to turn invisible- literally anything was possible. But what did he choose underneath all that deranged pressure? Rick. It was as if he was cursed.
Perhaps it was the guilt. Morty knew that, deep down, he had no control over the actions and decisions his biological Rick made, but just the mere fact that they were related in any sense caused him to feel accountable. Wouldn't his Rick agree? He already said once that he got his 'suicide bomberness' from his biological grandpa. Wasn't that enough proof to point out that his Rick believed that he was just like Rick Prime?
Even if his Rick did hate him, or even if he actually was using him for bait, it didn't really make a difference, did it? Morty had always been a tool, a shield, and an easily replaceable dummy who was desperate for his grandfather's approval and happy to take any abuse if it meant not being lonely. It was honestly such a sad way to exist.
These fortunes could fix everything. They both could have happy, non-broken lives. Rick would have his family and Morty... Morty would have 'something' good, right? Sure he wrote that his biological grandpa would be loving and supportive, but that didn't mean that he would have a happy life.
Sighing in distress, Morty put the fortunes back in their bag and hid them underneath the bed again. He didn't think that he'd ever use them, but... Some times he had to wonder.
It wasn't but a few months later that Morty finally caved in and decided to eat the two fortune cookies under his bed.
Weeks of failed missions sparked cruelty within his grandpa causing him to have these random, outrageous outbursts of anger and hate. Morty's small mistakes and misunderstandings didn't help his attitude at all. Rick was becoming dangerously obsessed with his nemesis and he was beginning to show very vivid symptoms.
Morty couldn't go a day without being degraded, lectured, brought down or even some times physically hurt by his grandpa, and it was crushing his heart. Rick was too far gone into his own trauma to wake up and move on like a healthy person should do. No matter what Morty said to him, he would never be able to get him to change.
He wished he could help him. He wished he could change things. He felt so helpless, so worthless, useless and small. Morty wanted to find Rick Prime in a snap just so that his Rick could get better, but he couldn't. He wanted to convince his Rick to calm down and be happy with the life he already had, but he couldn't. There was nothing that Morty could do himself.
And so he would have to let fate do it for him.
Running to his bedroom, Morty retrieved the bag from underneath his bed, broke out the fortunes, ate the stale cookies and read the papers. This was it. This was happening. History was officially about to be re-written.
No one knows exactly how it happened because it happened 'fast'. Timekeepers scoured each and every conceivable universe in search for the source, but their efforts were futile. Something big was causing every reality to reset a grand total of seventy years, and no one could stop it.
Because no one can stop fate.
(After the rebirth in dimension Prime.)
Morty flew through space with a suit of armor and a jetpack on, smiling at the sensation of gravity-free fun. He did turns, twists and flips before finally crawling up the bottom of the broken ship and mapping out the busted panels. Once he found them, he detached the arc welder kit from his leg and used it to repair the damaged metals, occasionally fixing some flimsy wires here and there.
When he was done making his repairs, Morty flew back to the front of the ship and landed inside, saying happily, "Alright, I think that was everything."
"Let's see about that," Rick Prime said challengingly as he turned a bunch of nobs and levers to the stranded ship, his eyes widening in shock when it rumbled to life, "Well I'll be..."
The ship, after being stranded for five years, was igniting to life, it's engine loud and vibrant as lights flickered on and the controls awakened.
"You did it, kiddo," Rick Prime cheered, shaking Morty by the shoulder and laughing proudly, "Ha, you actually did it. How's it feel to achieve a baby's goal? Must feel pretty exciting, right?"
"C-cut it out, grandpa," Morty grumbled while rubbing his eyes, "You know babies can't fix spaceships."
"Not until now," Rick Prime grinned big and gave his grandson a hearty shove, "Now fly us back to the Tiny People. It's getting really cramped in here. I think I can smell your sweaty teenage hormones- gross."
"Y-you know, you-you really should be treating me better," Morty argued as he messed with the controls and began flying the ship to their intended destination, "Its my birthday after all."
"And?" Rick Prime crossed his arms while leaning against the wall, "Aren't birthdays just a childish excuse to get money and toys? T-to me it's almost like blackmail, get it? You're blackmailing me to be nice to you because it's your birthday. Oh-oh Morty, I-I'm so sorry, here, let me search the galaxy for a golden crown fit to satisfy your fourteen year old brain- is that nice enough for you?"
"Ok, I get it," Morty grumbled, rolling his eyes at his grandfather's constant need to point out the pointlessness of practically everything that existed.
For the remainder of the journey, Rick Prime continued to annoy his grandson, making fun of his adventure and belittling his birthday. Morty was used to it. How could he not be? Fourteen years being the grandson to the smartest person in the universe toughens you. But, deep down, Morty knew that his grandfather cared. He cared about all of his family.
Once they made it to the planet where the Tiny People were located, Morty was praised as a genuine hero and gifted a tiny staff from the Tiny King as a gesture of gratitude. Now the Tiny People could resume living in space instead of on the horrid, nasty planet they were forced to take refuge on. In the end, everything felt like a big win. Even his grandpa looked happy.
After they departed ways with the Tiny People, Rick Prime shot a portal that lead to the front lawn of their home.
"Well hey, you two," Jerry, having just gotten out of his car, stumbled as he carried a bunch of heavy bags, "How was your trip? Wanna help me with these groceries now that your back?"
"Quick, Morty, run inside," Rick Prime grabbed Morty's forearm and sprinted towards the front door.
"H-hey!" Morty barely got to holler before being shoved inside the house. "S-seriously Rick?" He barked, watching as his grandpa locked the door on his dad and ran to the dining room window where he proceeded to pull his pants down and shake his naked butt at a very irritated Jerry on the other side.
How did he end up with a childish idiot for a grandfather?
"There's my birthday boy," Beth reached out and gave Morty a quick hug, "I've almost got your cake ready. Go get your sister, ok. And dad? Stop mooning Jerry and let him inside already, he's got stuff I need."
"Sure thing, sweetie, just give me a minute," Rick Prime grinned mischievously while continuing his half naked dance.
Morty, shockingly more mature than an immortal, seventy year old man, did as his mother asked and went upstairs to tell Summer her request. He then went to his own room to take off his jacket and boots and change into something more comfortable. And that's when he heard something.
A voice in his head.
'I don't renounce Rick, and I never have. I was just trying to protect my sister.' It was a voice. 'His' voice, and it came with a vision.
'I wanted you to have a normal life; that's something you can't have when Rick shows up. Everything real turns fake, everything right is wrong. All you know is that you know nothing and he knows everything.'
Morty mindlessly backed up into his dresser, panting as he saw in his mind a big, golden room with a giant platform staged by six Ricks' with different, weird haircuts. His sister was there as well as another Morty. Everything was illusive and yet felt so... Real.
'And, well... Well he's not a villain, Summer, but he shouldn't be your hero. He's more like a demon or a super messed up God.' The voice in his mind said, staying in tune with the memory.
'Let's not suck the ghost of his dick too hard. He was a terrorist and now he's dead.' The vision turned to the Ricks' standing behind the platform.
'Oh yeah? If you think my Ricks' dead, he's alive, and if you think you're safe he's coming for you.' Morty gasped as the vision finally faded although it was still there hanging in the back of his mind like a memory.
"Wh-wh-what the..." Morty straightened his posture, one hand holding his head as he tried getting a mental grasp on what exactly just happened.
Why would he have a vision like that? Was it even a vision or some kind of weird, out of whack memory? Maybe it was a dream he had last night that was just coming back to him? If it had been a dream, then why did it feel so 'real'? Like it actually happened...
Ok, it was his birthday, his family was here, and he wanted to enjoy himself. It was best not to make a scene based on some sort of weird memory that made absolutely no sense. And considering the fact that it made no sense most likely meant that it really was a dream. So, best case scenario, nothing to worry about.
Morty collected his nerves and changed into his casual black jeans, yellow shirt and grey jacket. After using the restroom, he went back downstairs where delicious smells lingered wonderfully in the air and had his mouth watering. This was going to be an awesome fourteenth birthday.
"Oh hey Morty," Jerry greeted him, wearing his pink apron and a apple oven mitt, "What do you think? Looks good, doesn't it?"
"Dad went out of his way to make chicken- which is what you are," Summer teased, roughly booping her little brother's nose.
"Very funny, Summer," Morty rubbed his nose and wandered up to the dining table, his mouth curving into a big smile at what he saw.
Jerry did indeed cook a very large chicken as well as a variety of delicious sides. Everything was lined out beautifully and smelt amazing. "Wow, dad," Morty nodded in approval, appreciation glowing in his eyes, "This is really awesome. Thanks."
'Your mom and sister died, Morty!'
Morty flinched.
'And I moved on... From caring. And that is the best deal you will ever get. So take it.'
Morty gaped, staring off into space as he vividly began to visualize what was playing inside his head. It was like he was in some kind of abandoned town covered in earth and woodland, and the man in front of him... He looked identical to his dad but more... Hunger Gameish?
'Please don't go. I-if Rick comes back we ca- we can find you a new reality, a new mom, new Summer, a job.' It felt like he was scared, desperate, begging.
'Oh, you don't get it, kiddo. Except for this conversation, my life is perfect,' Hunger Games Jerry began to walk away, 'Rick was always right. Everyone needs to let go.'
"Morty? Morty," Summer shook him by the shoulders, whistling loudly in his ear and snapping her fingers, "Hellooooooo. Earth to Morty, please respond. You're kinda freakin everyone out here."
"Uh... What?" Morty blinked, his body feeling tense and shaken, "Wh-where am I? Oh right..."
Morty looked at the dinner table, his mind fuzzy. Had that been another memory from some kind of crazy dream? What was with that? He shook his head and said quickly, "S-sorry about that. D-dinner looks great, dad. I can't wait to dig in."
"Ok, ha... Are you sure you're alright?" Jerry laughed nervously and placed a thorough hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, "You were acting kind of weird there for a second."
"Oh-oh it was nothing, just-uh... J-just thinking about how great your cooking is. Yeah... That-that's it," Morty nodded hopefully, "Thanks again, dad."
"Oh," Jerry seemed a bit shocked, but eventually flattery did overtake his concern and had him grinning in pride, "Well you're very welcome, Morty. Just give us a sec and we'll have the cake out in no time."
"R-right, sound-sounds good," Morty replied with a tense, forced smile, his body covered in goosebumps as he quickly sat down and took a drink from a random cup of water.
"You seem more jumpy today than usual. What happened? Did grandpa take you to another clown-worshipping planet?" Summer asked as she took a seat beside him.
"Who worships clowns?" Morty hollered just to have an excuse to verbally vent some steam, and then he plopped his head down to the table and groaned dramatically, "And no, he didn't. I-it's nothing."
"Yeah... Right..." Summer crossed her arms and gazed around, saying softly, "You know you can tell me anything, right? Like, if there's something going on- if Jessica rejected you again or if-"
"I'm fine, Summer," Morty said firmly, lifting his head, "I-I just wanna enjoy dinner and eat my cake. Today's supposed to be a good day, alright?"
"Pfft, ok, if you say so," Summer reluctantly rolled with him.
A few minutes later, Rick Prime showed up exclaiming that he had the presents ready while Jerry and Beth brought out the cake. Everything seemed to be going perfectly fine. The family sat down together, ate, chatted and had fun. Morty got to blow out the candles to his cake and make a wish- which was to finally date Jessica. Everything was great.
Until...
While Morty was eating a slice of cake, he visualized yet another memory only this time... It didn't stop. It 'changed'. The memories kept coming, one right after the other, flooding him, taking over his mind. It hurt, it felt good, it was insane, he hated it, nothing made sense. What was going on?
There were memories about everything. A memory where he had a giant, awesome arm. One where he was locked up in a room with dozens of other Mortys'. One where Rick- but not his Rick?- was black-out drunk and destroyed the Vindicators. One where he was molested by a jelly-bean. Another where he and that drunken Rick sang to a bunch of huge heads.
And Morty did not stop receiving the visions until he had fourteen years worth of extra memories and knowledge stored up in the back of his head.
By the time Morty woke up, he was in one of Ricks labs lying on a medical berth. His eyes were tired and his body felt heavy. He was confused, torn between who he really was and who his memories implied he used to be. All of those memories- they were of a different life, one that he had already lived but used fate to change. That Rick... His grandpa... His biological grandpa...
All of it had been changed.
It was too much. Everything he was taking in was way too much. He didn't ask for this. He didn't want to have these memories, they were painful, sad and literally unreal. That life that he had changed was gone, permanently, and there was no fixing it. And that Rick...
God, that Rick. Morty wouldn't deny that having these memories also meant that he had the emotions that came with them. And there was no denying that he loved that Rick. Their bond was inseparable- toxic, cruel, hateful, unfair and a bit obsessive- but he could tell how much he cared about him.
That's why that version of himself did that. Changing fate? He did it for that Rick. Rick C-137.
"Hey poptart," Came a soft, tired voice.
Morty blinked and looked over, his heart buckling a little bit when he saw his grandpa. Rick Prime- the same Rick who apparently killed C-137 Rick's family. It was weird realizing that he was capable of such a thing, but knowing that he never had done it. "Grandpa..." He whispered, his mouth horribly dry.
"You gave everyone quite a scare," Rick Prime exclaimed as he scooted the chair closer to the medical berth, "But it was worth getting to see Jerry crap his pants."
"My dad?" Morty cringed at the thought of Jerry soiling his pants. The big question was why? "What did I..."
"You had a seizure," Rick stated, "Yeah, pretty unexpected. Thought I was gonna have to do operation phoenix. Thank God you woke up though, huh?"
A seizure? Really? Was it because of the memories? God... Those memories... There was so much suffering, so much chaos, insanity, pain and sorrow. There were happy memories, sad memories, memories that were frustrating, some that were utterly messed up, and some that were boring. But nothing changed the fact that the Morty in his memories was 'him'. The only difference was their fates.
And if that were true, then why did Morty feel so... Split? Like he was two different people? One side of him was the Morty from this reality, and the other side was the Morty who experienced all these memories.
At the moment, Morty was feeling twice as much more than he normally should. He was 'thinking' twice as much. He was confused, worried, anxious, hurt, lonely, scared, frustrated, angry, proud, exhausted, sad and shattered.
Where was Rick C-137? Did he get to live the life he had always wanted? Would his grandpa Rick Prime suddenly turn evil now that fate was sealed? How was he supposed to live now? Was he even supposed to exist? He felt like two different people. What should he do?
"You uh... You doing alright over there?" Rick Prime asked, his lips pulled tight as he watched his unnaturally immobile, silent grandson mindlessly gaze around at the ceiling.
"I..." Morty looked at him, his face consisting of all kinds of troubled, challenging emotions, "C-c-can I... I-is it okay if I sleep-sleep a little bit longer... Please?"
"Sure, if that's what you want," Rick Prime stood up from his chair, looked down at his grandson for a minute and then turned to leave.
Morty laid back against the padded berth, both his mind and body feeling like a million pounds. To think that he himself caused fate to erase seventy years just so that a psycho version of his grandpa could live a happy life. Sure his life ended up being happy too, but what was gonna happen now that both fates were sealed? Who's to say that Rick Prime won't magically become evil and commit his atrocities all over again?
Then a part of him couldn't stop thinking about how much he missed Rick C-137. It was like the Morty these memories came from was literally living inside him, sharing his body and soul. And that Morty was filled with sadness, regret, pain and loneliness. Because everything and everyone he knew was lost, and there was no way to fix it.
Divided is how Morty felt. Divided and confused and utterly lost. He didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do now that he had all of these memories?
Was there anything he could do?
Morty spent the next ten days avoiding his family, locking himself in his room and going out for long walks. Some times he would randomly wake up in Rick's lab after accidentally falling asleep somewhere. By now people had thankfully stopped asking him what was wrong and let him be, and while part of him didn't want to be alone, another part of him couldn't bear the loneliness he felt when he wasn't alone.
It only makes sense when you share two minds of the same person.
On the tenth day was when Morty finally decided that he couldn't take it anymore. He had to see Rick C-137.
And so, with permission, Morty took Rick Prime's portal gun and ventured into the C-137 dimension wearing nothing but his casual yellow shirt and blue jeans. Whenever he arrived, he was standing outside on the sidewalk, staring at the Smith house with excited, wide eyes.
What must Rick C-137 be like now that he got to live the life he always wanted?
Biting his lip nervously, Morty spent a few seconds trying to spot anything different, but for the most part everything looked exactly the same as his own dimension. The only unusual thing was the old yet strangely familiar car sitting in the driveway. That was new. Who's was it?
Cautiously and stealthily, Morty walked up to the side of the house and carefully went to peek inside the window, and that's when his heart dropped. There, sitting in the living room, was Rick C-137, and wow... Was he different; blue pants, blue button-up shirt, and short, fluffy-spiked haircut.
Rick C-137 was sitting on the ground in front of the couch, a big, joyous smile on his face as he played around with a small child. There was another grown man there- one that Morty only recognized through old Citadel memories. He was a different man a small few versions of Beths' married instead of Jerry.
Who would have thought things turned out so differently here?
Morty peeked in further and saw the Beth sitting in the armchair, a blanket-wrapped infant laying peacefully asleep in her arms. She must have made smarter decisions, married someone better and had kids when she was ready. Was that because of Rick?
Everyone looked so happy. Morty frowned as he watched Rick C-137 play with the little kid on the ground. He watched as he smiled, made goofy faces and laughed. He was happy. For the first time ever, Rick C-137 was finally happy. He had his family- the one that he had fought so hard to avenge. They were all here exactly how he had always wanted them to be. Rick C-137 was happy.
And he was happy... Without Morty.
Morty jerked himself away from the window and, as fast as he possibly could, shot a portal that would take him to his home dimension. As soon as he was within the contents of his own room, he collapsed to the ground and began sobbing uncontrollably, his heart feeling as if it were being painfully lacerated inside his chest.
Rick didn't need him anymore. Everything they had together was meaningless, all for not, forgotten. He had everything he wanted now. He was happy. He was happy without Morty.
'He was happy without Morty.'
Why did that truth hurt him so much? Did he honestly expect that the fortune would work differently? Why eat the fortune at all if this was how he was going to feel?
But God, the look on C-137 Rick's face while he was with his family. Morty had to admit, in his memories, Rick had never looked more happy or more at peace. Isn't that what Morty wanted all along?
Morty sniffed, staring at his floor as he laid there for hours and hours, alternating between crying, napping, crying some more and then sobbing. At some point he grew the will to drag himself onto his bed, his body shivering as he curled in on himself and stared at his wall, feeling empty on the inside.
There was a knock on his door. Morty didn't care to respond, so the person walked in.
"Hey kiddo," Rick Prime slowly opened the door, observing the innards of his grandson's room.
Morty didn't move nor say anything, simply staying curled up in his corner on the bed. Rick Prime turned on the light, entered the room and closed the door. With a sigh he took in his grandson and wandered over to his bed, taking a seat on the edge.
"There's uh... There's a tribe of Florgarians who need help crossing the ocean on planet Florgaborg i-if you wanna go on an adventure some time," Rick offered softly, "O-or we could go to the Infatarry and help out there."
"Pass..." Morty croaked in a broken, dry whisper.
"Broh, since when does my partner 'pass' on helping people?" Rick argued, trying to sound playfully aggressive in the hopes that it would lighten his grandson's mood.
But it didn't work. Morty still lied there unresponsive and quiet as ever.
"Listen, poptart," Rick Prime sighed, knowing that this was the only way that he could help, "I know what's going on with your memories."
"Wh... What?" Morty whined in confusion, slowly turning over onto his back, "H-how?"
"After your first seizure, you started having more, so I decided to look into it," Rick explained, his eyes slanted with a comforting kind of gentility and understanding, "When I realized the problem wasn't epilepsy, I looked deeper and found your memories."
Morty sat up, his body frozen stiff as he waited for his grandpa to turn evil and shoot a hole through his forehead. Any words he wanted to say died on his tongue. Was there anything he could say to defend himself in this situation? Like 'I'm sorry the alternate version of myself changed fate and made you nice?' Yeah, the good that would do.
"Who would have thought that 'my' grandson would be the best version of any grandson a Rick could ever have?" Rick Prime smiled warmly, looking at Morty with loving pride.
"Huh..." Morty's jaw dropped, and tears immediately invaded his sad, reddened eyes.
"What you did for your grandpa was the most courageous thing I've ever seen anyone do for someone else," Rick reached out and placed a hand on Morty's shoulder, "And now, thanks to you, that Rick is living the best life he could ever want, and I get to have adventures with the best grandson any Rick could ever ask for."
It was then that all of the shattered pieces of Morty's heart fused back together within seconds, and he cried in unbearable relief, reaching out for Rick Prime and latching onto him. He sobbed into his maroon sweater, pouring out all of his pain, regret, and loneliness. The Rick in his memories was gone. He no longer existed, and neither did the version of himself that made the fortune in the first place.
These memories were just a reminder. Was it a good reminder? Maybe so, maybe not. It all depended on how he took it.
And, when Morty really stopped to think about it, his life had been pretty darn awesome. His grandpa Rick Prime had always been there for him, and he still was to this exact moment. Everything changed for the better. His goal had been accomplished. Rick C-137 had his family, and Morty had his.
You get the family you get.
"Y-y-you're not g-gonna turn e-evil?" Morty stuttered into his grandpa's shirt.
"Ha," Rick Prime patted his back soothingly, "I think the fortune said I'd only be loving and supportive of my family, I don't think it excluded me being evil, so... Who's to say I'm not already evil, huh?"
Morty shook as he sniffled, burying his face into the crevice of Rick's arm and chest, "D-do you still love me?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Morty," Rick ruffled his hair, "'Love' is just a word. I only tolerate your girl problems, take you on adventures all the time, and occasionally offer hugs when you're having a crappy day."
Morty smiled. Of course no Rick could say the word 'love'. Instead they had to spell out their own definitions of it. In Morty's opinion, it felt like they were only trying to make the word 'love' last longer.
"We are gonna have to do something about these memories though," Rick Prime suddenly said in a much more earnest voice, gently pushing Morty away so they could make eye contact, "You've got an extra fourteen years worth of memories trapped in there, and I don't think it's affecting your brain very well. If we don't find a solution, you're gonna keep having seizures, and while I do enjoy Jerry's humiliation every time he number-twos himself, I do think this is a serious problem. "
"R-really? Geez..." Morty wiped his eyes and sat back, drifting off into thought for a moment, "Hey?"
"Hmm?" Rick Prime made silly faces while wiping annoyingly at the tear stains on his sweater.
It made Morty realize that maybe he hadn't really lost anything at all. "I think I know what to do."
The next morning, Morty finished digging a two feet deep hole in his backyard and knelt down in front of it with the blue memory flask held tightly to his chest. He had his grandpa let him keep a few of them, but for the most part every memory from his alternate self was sealed away in this flask.
He didn't need them.
Morty placed the flask in the hole and said softly, "Goodbye... I hope you live your best life... Without me."
Standing up, Morty wiped his eyes and forced the tears back before they could fall. While he was shoveling dirt back in the hole, he noticed Rick Prime walking up behind him and asked, "So, after this, wanna make some poptarts?"
"Actually, Morty," Rick Prime stopped beside him and smiled lightly, "I was wondering if you'd like to go get some ice-cream instead? I hear gloppy drop is good. Whata' ya say, kiddo?"
Morty gasped and looked at his grandpa, his heart beating with happiness and content. "Sure, that'd be great," He grinned, carrying the shovel with him as he let go of what was now behind him.
Their lives would no longer be broken.