A Genius Morty

Morty sat at the war room's main console, his fingers drumming restlessly on the table, his mind racing with half-formed ideas and strategies. The revelation of his injury had shifted everything—his secret was out, and now Rick and Summer knew the truth. They knew that every second Morty was alive was a battle against the rift tearing him apart from the inside.

Despite their concern, Morty couldn't let himself be sidelined. He'd spent too long fighting for control, for a way to turn the tables on Vaxon and the council. Even now, with this deadly injury threatening to consume him, he was determined to find a way to fight back.

"Okay," Morty said, breaking the silence that hung heavy over the room. "We need to strike back, and we need to do it soon. I've got a plan that—"

Rick cut him off, shaking his head with a stern expression. "No, Morty. No plans, no strategies, no interdimensional escapades until we fix this damn thing in your chest. You're not making a move until we figure out how to stop that wound from eating you alive."

Morty opened his mouth to argue, but Rick held up a hand, his eyes fierce and unyielding. "I mean it, Morty. You've been holding yourself together with duct tape and sheer willpower. You're not going to keep burning yourself up trying to play hero while that wound is slowly killing you."

Summer nodded, her voice soft but firm. "Rick's right, Morty. You can't keep pushing yourself like this. If we lose you because you're too stubborn to let us help, then all of this—everything we've fought for—won't mean a thing."

Morty clenched his fists, the frustration boiling inside him. He didn't want to be the one holding them back, didn't want to be the weak link in their fight against the council. But the pain in his chest was a constant reminder that he was teetering on the edge, that his power wasn't limitless, and that his body was paying the price.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing," Morty said, his voice strained. "Every second we wait, the council is getting stronger. Vaxon's out there, plotting his next move, and we're just sitting on our hands while he gets further ahead."

Rick's expression softened slightly, though the determination in his eyes never wavered. "You're not doing nothing, Morty. You're staying alive. You're giving us time to figure out a way to save your life so that when we do take the fight to them, you're not a walking time bomb ready to go off."

Morty looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of his helplessness pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He'd always been the one to jump into action, to make the hard choices and take the risks, but now his own body was betraying him, holding him back when they needed him the most.

Summer reached out, placing a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but unyielding. "Morty, listen to us. We've seen you do incredible things. You've led this rebellion, you've stood up to threats that most people would run from, and you've kept this family together. But this wound—it's not something you can just power through. It's tearing you apart."

Morty met her eyes, and for a moment, he saw the depth of her fear, the pain of almost losing him when he hadn't even known how close he was to the edge. He could see how much it hurt her to see him in pain, to know that he was suffering in silence while pretending to be fine.

"I hate this," Morty said, his voice cracking. "I hate feeling like I'm the one slowing us down. I've spent so long trying to be strong, trying to keep us in this fight, and now you're telling me I have to step back?"

Rick gave him a sad smile, one that was laced with regret but also with a fierce protectiveness that Morty rarely saw from his grandfather. "Morty, stepping back isn't the same as giving up. You've got to trust us to have your back this time. We're not going to let you go out there half-cocked with a rift in your chest that could blow at any second."

Summer nodded, squeezing Morty's arm. "You're our brother, Morty. We can't afford to lose you—not now, not ever. We'll find a way to heal you, to close that rift. Then, when you're ready, we'll take the council down together."

Morty's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. He wasn't used to this kind of vulnerability, this feeling of being cared for and protected by his family. He'd always thought he had to be the one holding everyone else up, that his power and determination were what kept them moving forward.

"Alright," Morty said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll put my plan on hold. But only if you promise me that we're not stopping. We're not giving up on this fight."

Rick's eyes softened, and he reached out, ruffling Morty's hair in that rough but affectionate way that only he could manage. "Morty, you're stubborn as hell, but that's one of the reasons I'm proud of you. We're not stopping. We're just changing gears for a bit. You're gonna be whole again, kid, and when you are, we'll make those council scumbags wish they'd never been born."

Summer nodded, a fierce light in her eyes. "And in the meantime, we'll be prepping. We'll be building the weapons, setting the traps, and getting ready to hit them where it hurts. They think they've got the upper hand, but they haven't seen what we're capable of when we're at full strength."

Morty managed a small smile, the weight of his injury still heavy on his chest but lightened by the support of his family. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn't alone in this fight—not just against the council, but against his own inner demons, the ones that had whispered that he had to do everything on his own.

"Okay," Morty said, nodding slowly. "I'll focus on staying alive, on keeping this wound from getting worse. But you two have to promise me that we'll make Vaxon and his council pay for every second we've lost to them."

Rick grinned, that familiar mischievous spark returning to his eyes. "Oh, Morty, you have my word. Once we've patched you up, we're going to tear their whole operation to shreds. Vaxon's gonna wish he'd stayed hidden in whatever twisted dimension he crawled out of."

Summer's smile mirrored Rick's, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "We're in this together, Morty. No matter how broken we feel, no matter how much they try to tear us down—we'll always find a way to fight back."

Morty felt the weight of their words settle into his soul, grounding him, giving him the strength he needed to keep holding on. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, that healing his wound might take everything they had, but he also knew that they wouldn't stop fighting until he was whole again.

"Thanks, guys," Morty said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not used to letting people help me, but I—I need you. I need both of you. I can't do this on my own."

Rick's smile softened, and he gave Morty's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're not alone, Morty. You never were. We're family, and family doesn't let each other fall. We'll find a way to fix this—together."

As they stood there, united in their resolve, Morty felt something shift inside him. He wasn't just fighting for survival anymore; he was fighting for a future where they could stand side by side, whole and unbroken. He was fighting for the family that had refused to let him go, even when he'd been ready to give up on himself.

They were going to heal this wound, to close the rift that threatened to tear Morty apart. And when they did, they'd take the fight to Vaxon and the council with everything they had. Because no matter how many times the multiverse tried to break them, the Smith family would always find a way to rise again.

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