Chapter Text
Ow ow ow ow ow! Morty’s hands fly to the sides of his head and he curls up like a pillbug, forehead to knees, eyes clamped shut. He lands on his side in the mud to shield his face from some of the rain. His ears ring painfully.
The explosion had come with no warning. Okay, well, not no warning, but Rick said they’d have another ten minutes at least before the ion storm was bad enough to ignite anything, so it wasn’t exactly expected. This barren rocky wasteland of darkness, broken only by the sharp crystal formations sticking up like cacti— and apparently attracting ion lightning— wasn’t exactly a vacation spot. They’d only meant to stay long enough to… cultivate a soil sample?
Morty didn’t really care why they were there anymore. He just wanted to leave.
Rick didn’t want to be there anymore either.
Ion storms were supposed to be slower, more gradual than this, and the explosions they caused weren’t supposed to be so violent, but here they are, and it’s time for solutions.
That might be a bit of a problem, though, considering the flash of light went away several seconds ago and Rick still couldn’t see.
It takes less than a minute for Rick to evaluate and diagnose the situation; he knows how his eyes work— he built them himself— and he knows about this place, he knows what just happened, and he knows that, long story short, his vision’s just been short-circuited. It’s going to take some detail work to repair… which is not something he thought through in the original design, he supposes, considering how precision engineering really does require vision, and his substitutes are back at the house. Hmph.
“Morty?” He calls out, reaching in the direction he remembers the boy being. There’s no response, and it sends him directly into a panic, “Morty, where are you?”
His hand finds something— analyze, fabric, texture, shirt, Morty’s shirt— and he manages to find grip on Morty’s arm and pull. The boy groans with pain.
“Rick?” He calls. Then, louder, more frantic, “Rick?!” Two hands grab Rick’s forearm.
“Morty,” Rick turns in the boy’s direction, “we gotta get out of here, Morty, but—“
“What?” Morty interrupts loudly. There’s a pause. His grip tightens and stiffens.
“Morty, I can’t see, are you okay—“
“Talk louder, Rick, I can’t hear you! Wait…”
Despite not being able to see, Rick squints questioningly. The rain is loud, but not THAT loud, and they’re pretty dang close together.
Morty realizes this too, followed by the realization that he should be hearing the rain right now, and he isn’t. He sits up the rest of the way, using Rick as a counterweight to keep him steady, to pull closer, and he just stares as Rick’s mouth starts moving again. Rick snaps his fingers a few times. Nothing.
“Oh geez, Rick, I-I can’t hear anything— my ears are broken!”
Rick takes a deep breath. The two are a miserable sight, hands clutching arms between them, hair matted back, fully soaked in the rain by now. Morty shivers as the wind picks up. Another blast of lightning and roar of thunder crash nearby and they flinch one by one, Morty from the light and Rick from the noise.
This is going to be interesting.