As Morty dreamed, the voices that seeped in from under his door penetrated the images he saw. The noises were soft from where he was on his bed, directly below him in the kitchen, but that didn't keep his brain from picking out what it could. There came the sheepish tone from his father, which didn't last long. It echoed off his dreams and bounced back out without much damage. The other voice, on the other hand...

Morty sat up with a gasp. He crossed his legs under the blanket, though was shaking so hard that he could hardly move. He put a hand to his chest, then pressed it to his forehead before looking down at his lap. That one had felt so real. It was almost like Rick was right there, speaking and breathing and living. Morty's mind was getting a little too good at torturing him. He looked around at his dark room, catching the outlines of a few things littering the floor. 

Everything was so quiet. He looked to the door, waited, held his breath, then let it go. Everyone was asleep - Rick wasn't going to barge in to call him to a late night adventure. Morty swallowed hard and realized how dry his throat was. He licked his lips, then threw the blankets back.

Padding down to the kitchen, Morty was surprised to find his father still up. He didn't say anything, however. He just went to the sink, filled up a glass, and gulped it down. He eyed Jerry over the rim of the glass. 

"Um...I..." He lowered the glass and looked away, his free hand playing with the fabric of his pajama shirt awkwardly. Was this normal? He didn't think it was. The kitchen smelled like reheated food, and that wasn't new. Beth hadn't exactly called him to dinner...Again. Still, something felt off. Very off.

"Well, um...Good night, Dad. Heh." He dumped the glass in the sink and turned, quietly making his way back towards the stairs. He was about to begin the venture up to his room when he glanced at the garage door. He gripped the handrail so hard that his knuckles turned white. He wanted nothing more than to get away from it, and he was about to,  but something caught his eye.

The door was slightly ajar. It was closed, but not all the way. No, no. His parents were the cause of that. Or Summer. Or the wind. Sucking in a deep breath, Morty left the stairs and reached for the knob, aiming to close it right. His fingertips brushed the wood, and the action was just enough to push the door open.  Morty's eyes widened as he hurried to grasp the knob. 

Rick was going to be pissed!

No...No, wait. No.

Morty tensed and looked up the knob. Why should he care if the door was open? It was just a garage. He sighed and looked into the garage, only to be greeted by a familiar figure inside. 

For a moment, he was sure he was hallucinating. He was dreaming. He was sleepwalking and dreaming of the past. That's all it was! He froze, but the scientist before him didn't vanish. At that, all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the man.

"R-...Rick?"