#i spat this out at 2 am like a ball of mucus and now i release it into the world

[paiinton]

the moon as a thing that can be consumed

you stumble into the moon on your way to your dorm, spilling leftover pad thai all over her. you apologize profusely. she laughs, clear and bright, while you scoop up cold noodles from the ground.

///

it is spring, and flowers are pushing themselves up from the soil. sunlight is a meal that is chewed and swallowed and licked from the lips of the living.

///

on your way to class, the moon stops you. you open your mouth to apologize again, but she gets her words out first.

"hey, um, you probably don't know me super well, but we have a class together,"

she stops. her next sentence comes out faster,

"-and you're really cute and i was wondering if maybe you wanted to get some coffee together later?"

she twists a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles a bit awkwardly. you do not think she remembers your pad thai.

///

you are walking your dog. the moon reflects off the wet path. you do not stumble. your dog pulls on his leash, and you follow him.

///

the moon is making omelets in your kitchen. you walk up behind her, rest your chin on her shoulder. she asks you to pass her some shredded cheese. you hum, and know she can feel it against her back. you are not this far in the story yet, you do not even know if you like omelets. i will not take this from you though.

///

the moon asks you out for coffee, and you tell her

"oh i'm sorry. i actually have a test tomorrow that i really should study for tonight, but do you want my number? we can work something out later this week maybe?"

you write out your number on her forearm with a pen you stole from the bank. or maybe it was a career fair? it has a little cat on it. you really are sorry.

///

it is cloudy. you don't take your dog outside today, the weather calls for rain. you consider how it could be a full moon or a whole moon and you would never know. this thought is marvelous to you somehow.

///

you end up going out for coffee with the moon on a thursday, and she orders a chai latte. you get an iced coffee. when she looks up at you, she has a little foam on her lip. you think about how it is impossible to truly know what you cannot see. you can see the foam on her lip, and do not know what to make of it regardless.

///

the moon is watching a girl drink iced coffee. she is watching the girl's lips on the straw. the moon is watching a great many things. the moon is still a girl though, and knows the other girl is also watching her.

///

it's a clear night tonight, but you can't really see the stars. light pollution and all that. the moon is there though, a crescent like a slice of watermelon. the moon's head is in your lap. you can't see the stars, but you can feel the moon's hair between your fingers.

///

when you are 7, you learn that the moon does not disappear during the day, you just cannot see it. you imagine the sun like an eye, closing at night. you imagine the moon like a hole poked through the sky. you imagine that the moon is a girl in the same way that you are a girl.

///

you are in the car, watching the moon. it does not matter how old you are this time, you are somehow always in the car watching the moon. it follows you, even though you know it is not following you. it is a hole poked in the sky, stationary.

the moon, a little later on, is driving the car. you watch the road, and the moon, and the sky, and wonder whether any of it was stationary at all.

///

you are not the moon, and you are not a girl in love with the moon. the girl as the moon, not the moon as the moon. You grew up in love with the stars, but you can't really see them. light pollution and all. you do not know how you can love something you can't see. it is still love.

///

the girl in love with the moon is holding the moon's hand. it is sticky with fruit juice and summertime. the sun sits like a mango in the sky. they do not wash their hands just yet.

///

somewhere, in this great vast universe, there are many more moons. they are not your moon though, and your brain cannot really comprehend an ever-expanding universe that is folding in on itself like a rose in bloom. the universe is really very big

///

the moon is laying on your floor. you are laying in your floor. your dog is laying on your couch. he is not supposed to be there, and yet there he is.

///

you are still not the moon, or the girl in love with the moon. you are graduating soon, and could end up being either of them. this thought is not so marvelous, you like being sure of things. you think of the stars, how they are still almost invisible. you are in love with them, but it is a love like written word. you think that maybe your idea of love is different than that of the moon's. you think too much-or maybe not enough? not in the right way, you settle on. the moon and the girl are in love, and you are not.

///

the girl looks at the moon, who is frying pancakes in the commons of your building. it is 2am, and the girl is not hungry for pancakes. she will eat them anyway, because there in something in her that needs to be filled.

///

the moon holds the girl's cheeks in her palms. the girl's eyes shine. the moon is not the moon right now, but feels like she is reflecting the light of the sun still. something sits heavy in her throat, it is not a word.

///

who am i to say what love is? are the moon and the girl in love? do they need to be? they are both illuminated in this moment, two girls seeking something out and finding each other. who am i to say that i love the stars when it is more a memory of them. i am seeking something out too.

///

a dog is watching two girls sleep, all gangly limbs and boneless exhaustion. they lay tangled against each other. when one shifts, the other also shifts. they are breathing together. when they wake up, they might make pancakes. or omelets. the dog does not mind either way.

///

the moon as a girl watches the moon as the moon. it is funny, she supposes, that she can be two things at once.

///

a blind girl is in love with the stars. her stars are different than my stars. her love is not different than my love. it must be love.

[elizaviento]

Assimilation (part 22/23)

Note:  Friendly warning (and light spoiler) that the majority of this chapter mentions and focuses on abortion.  Also, ANGST galore. 

NSFW lite -- 2700 words

(FYI: Additional chapters of Assimilation can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #assimilation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

“What am I going to do?” I moaned.  Rick had forced more of the cool, tingly liquid down my throat and now that I had regained a grip on my faculties – if only temporarily – I was full on panicking.

“We – w-w-we have two options,” Rick began. 

“What do you mean we?!” I screamed, cutting him off.  Full on panicking, I was indeed.  “There’s no WE, Rick!  I’M the one carrying a human/alien hybrid!”

 “The fuck – the hell there isn’t!” he shouted back.  He slammed the bottle of booze he’d been drinking from down on the control panel and growled in frustration, ripping his hands through his disheveled hair.  “I – I got you in this mess!  None of this – t-t-this wouldn’t have happened if I – if Unity hadn’t – ARGH!”  He picked up the bottle and threw it against the wall containing the empty shackles, spraying glass and alcohol everywhere.  I suddenly realized by his outburst the guilt he must be harboring over my precarious position and softened my tone, attempting to calm him.  “Okay.  What are our options?” I asked, running a hand through my hair while avoiding his hard stare.

“We – you get rid of it.  Or you die.”

Choosing not to address either equally horrific option just yet, I asked, “How did you even know?  How did you find out?”

“Yesterday morning,” he replied, plopping down on the stool next to the control station.  He scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned.  Had he not slept since then?  “I – uh – I could tell something was off – wasn’t normal with you biologically.” I just lay back on the table to stare at the ceiling, waiting for him to go on.  “When – w-w-when I finger fucked you, there was more – uh – mucus.  Your temperature was slightly elevated.  And you – uh – y-you tasted different.”

“You mean, I tasted pregnant?” I asked with a strangled laugh.

“Exactly,” he confirmed.  “Your tits looked a little bigger, too.”

“But, none of this makes any sense, Rick.  It’s only been a week.”

“Gestation for the species of alien Unity assimilated is less than – than half of human gestation,” he replied.  “Which means gestation of a – uh – a human hybrid could be anywhere between twenty to twenty-five weeks.  Which also means that the fetus – parasite will consume more of your body’s resources in a shorter amount – period of time.  You won’t be able to keep up.  Hence, the death option.”

“How do you know this?” I asked, amazed.   

“I did – conducted some experiments.”

I rose back up to a sitting position, pinching my brow.  He was staring at his hands, absently picking at the fabric of his slacks.  “What type of experiments?”

“Does it matter?” he countered with a groan. 

“It matters to me, yes,” I replied, trying my best to keep the underlying feeling of panic under control.

“I took some – uh – extracted some of your DNA and made a clone,” he began, finally looking at me.  His expression was pained, but he continued.  “Then I – I tracked Unity down to – t-t-to get information on the – uh – the reproductive cycles and a semen sample from the alien species.”

Other than feeling shocked that he’d cloned me without my knowledge or consent, I felt like a complete asshole.  He hadn’t gone chasing after Unity to try to reconcile.  He was trying to save my life.  How hard must it have been to face Unity again after what it had done to him – to the both of us? 

“Is that why you took my underwear?  To get my DNA?”

“What – no!” he said, laughing unexpectedly.  “Baby, I-I-I took those to keep for when I’m jerkin’ off.”  He laughed again, harder than before, and ran a hand down his face.  “The hair – y-your hair from the goggles.  I took it from the trash when you weren’t looking – before I left.”

“So, what did you find out?  From impregnating my clone?”  Now it was my turn to laugh.  This was utterly absurd. 

“Like I said – you – uh – get rid of it or you die.  There’s no other option.”

“Are you sure? Because –”

“Yes – yes I’m sure!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands and standing from the stool so forcefully that it flew behind him to bang off the control panel.  “I conducted the experiment half a dozen times!  You – you think it’s bad now?!  Give it – g-give it a couple more weeks – a month!  You w-w-won’t be able to – you’ll become a fuckin’ vegetable when that thing sucks every – everything from you – destroys all your organs!”

I sat there staring at him, dumbfounded.  It was hard to imagine a species so humanoid in appearance would be so aggressive during gestation.  And, had he said he conducted the experiment six times?  He’d cloned and impregnated six of me?

“And – and that’s only my best calculation since I obviously had to speed up the process significantly!”  He was pacing the room again, ripping his hands through his hair so hard it had to be painful.  I had never seen Rick so upset and it was beginning to frighten me.   

“So, you really don’t know how long until it kills me?” I asked, the feeling of nausea coming back with a vengeance.   

“That – t-that’s why I told you to come – meet me here!”  He suddenly halted his pacing and turned toward me, narrowing his eyes.  “Why – uh – why didn’t you answer me?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.  “Why the fuck were you with that dipshit?”

I just continued to stare at him, unable to speak.  He’d caught me red handed and only now realized it.  He was so consumed with saving my life that it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask these questions until just now.  I was such a piece of shit. 

“Morty told me you were with Unity,” I offered, already hating myself before the words left my mouth.  He just continued to stare at me, his hands balling into fists at his sides.  “Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing, Rick?!  What was I supposed to think when Morty shows up at 2:00 am telling me that you spent all day tracking Unity down, left him on your ship for hours and then just dropped him off to go back?!”  I felt tears pooling in my eyes and covered them with my hands.   

“Look, I know I-I-I’m not the most trustworthy – reliable guy, but what would – haven’t I – w-w-why would you think – fuck!” he spat, no doubt frustrated that his mouth couldn’t keep up with the mile a minute pace of his brain.

I felt like my heart was being ripped to shreds as I watched him resume pacing.  I wanted to reach for him and pull him into my chest and keep him there.  I wanted for this thing between us to make some kind of sense; for it to somehow be possible.  But, how could it?  How could I ever explain this to Beth and Jerry and Summer and Morty?  How could Beth not absolutely hate me from the moment she knew until the day she died?  And, most importantly, how could someone as brilliant as Rick ever be happy with someone as painfully average as me?  He couldn’t.  Even if everything worked out perfectly, sooner or later he would get bored with me.  Sooner or later, he would walk away.

And, suddenly, the punchline to the cosmic joke became all too clear.  I could have Rick for a time in an infinite number of realities, but I’d never be able to keep him.  The break-up I had witnessed in D-79 was destined to play out someway – somehow, no matter what.  Maybe being assimilated and impregnated by a hive mind was just a means to an end in this reality – my reality.

“This is never going to work,” I concluded, removing my hands from my face to screw them into the skirt of my dress.  I had stopped trying to hide the tears.  What was the point?   

Rick’s voice softened slightly as he approached me. “Yes it will.  I just – j-just let me take care of it.  I’ll take care of it.”  He gently wrapped his hands around mine and carefully untangled them from the fabric of my dress.  He didn’t understand.

“No, Rick.”  I avoided his gaze and pulled my hands from his.  “I mean… THIS.” 

When I finally looked up at him, he was looming over me with an unreadable expression.  Then, he pinched his brow and shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, fishing around for something. 

“There – there’s no time for this now,” he said dismissively, producing a syringe.  The all consuming panic bubbled within me once again and I scooted away from him on the table, wrapping my arms around my torso. 

“Wait – no!  What are you doing?!” I screeched.

“If – if you don’t get – have an abortion, RIGHT NOW, you’ll – you’re gonna die.  Do you wanna die?”  His voice had taken on an eerily calm quality that chilled me to the bone.  And, the word ‘abortion’ thrusted me into the here and now of my situation.  I didn’t want to die.

“No,” I answered. 

“Then just – just lay back and I’ll take care of it.”

He’d take care of it.   

Without further objection, I lay back on the exam table and allowed him to unfurl my arm.  I felt the prick of the needle and the dull ache of the solution as it entered my bloodstream.  I felt my eyelids and limbs grow heavy.  I felt my consciousness drift.  And, then – darkness.

He’d take care of it.

----------

When I awoke, slightly groggy with the feeling of cotton stuffed in my mouth, it took me a moment to recognize my surroundings.  I was still in the bunker under the garage, still on the exam table.  I quickly took stock of my body, focusing my concentration on my abdomen and between my legs.  There was no pain but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a blissful illusion of pain killers.   

“Hey – hey there, Chicken.”  The sound of his voice made me bolt up in shock.  He was sitting on the stool, next to the control station.  “Ha!  She lives!” he mocked, upon seeing my reaction. 

Without needing to ask, he handed me a glass of ice water which I greedily gulped down so fast it gave me a brain freeze.  Groaning and holding my temples, I felt a hand settle between my shoulder blades.

“I’m assuming everything went okay?” I inquired, my voice croaky.  Looking down my body, there was no evidence to the contrary.  In fact, I looked and felt completely normal, minus the substitution of my blue dress for what appeared to be a ratty hospital gown. 

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered.  I had the sick inclination to ask where it was — what he’d done with it — but settled on a deep sigh of relief.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked, having no sense of time.

“Not long.  A couple hours, maybe.  It was quick.”

I nodded, words escaping me.   

“You – uh – you’re hormones may be outta whack for a little while,” he explained, removing his hand from between my shoulders.  “And – and, you were right.  This – uh – this isn’t gonna work.”

His words were like an ice pick plunged deep within my heart but, again, I only nodded.  Here it was.  He had come to the logical conclusion, as I had predicted, and I couldn’t fault him for it.   

“Is there anything else I need to know?  About taking care of myself, I mean.”

“No.  I – I took care of everything.  It’s like it never happened.”

Right.  Never happened.

“Thank you, Rick,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the table in preparation to stand. 

My head still felt thick and groggy, so Rick helped me from the table and opened a portal leading to my room.  I stepped through holding my dress, shoes, and purse – alone.  I pulled my phone from my purse and tapped out a quick apology to Davin before tossing it on the bed to dress in a pair of pajamas.  While sitting on the foot of the trundle bed, I mentally readied myself to enter the living room and lie to Beth.

“Hey, kiddo.” Morty looked up and back at me from the couch.  “Where’s your mom?”

“She got called in,” he replied, focusing attention back to his show.  “Something about a – a glue factory bust and the horses they found need emergency hoof transplant surgery – or whatever.”  I smirked at his cavalier response and circled the couch to sit next to him.  “How – how was your date?” he asked with a tone in his voice that seemed accusatory.

“Not great.  I got sick and called Rick to portal me home.  Puke ev-ery-where!” I said, fanning my hands in the air for dramatic effect.  And, just as I was internally congratulating myself on keeping my shit together —

“I – uh – I thought Rick was still in space.  With Unity,” Morty countered, peering at me with narrowed eyes.

Well, fuck.

“Umm…” I floundered.  But, he just turned back to the television as if nothing was amiss.

----------

Three weeks later, Mr. Benson had fully moved out of my house and I had finally wrapped up Trevor’s project.  My body was functioning normally – like nothing had ever happened – and I was settling back into my life.  I saw Rick here and there for moments at a time.  But, he had settled back into his life, dragging Morty (and occasionally Summer) across the multiverse without objection from Beth or Jerry now that it was summer vacation.  We only spoke to each other when absolutely necessary and never made eye contact.  Instead, I spent the majority of my time renovating my house, shaping it into something that was my own now that I couldn’t share it with Chris.  I did pull his belongings from the attic, though.  I went through each photo, scrap of paper, piece of clothing, each and every memento and cried.  I mourned for him the way I should have three years prior and it fucking sucked.   

The night my house was finally finished and I moved the last bit of my things from Beth and Jerry’s, I made an elaborate dinner for the family as a thank you.  At the end of the evening, Rick lingered as the rest were leaving. 

“Yeah, Sweetie. I – uh – I’m just gonna finish my drink first,” he lied to Beth as she was walking out the door.  Then, he carried me to my bed and fucked me within an inch of my life.  I’d lost count of how many times he made me cum as he growled filth and praise in my ear. 

“Fuck, baby – ohh god – y-y-you like that dick, huh?  My beautiful girl, cum for me.  Cum on Daddy’s cock again, sweetheart.  Thaaat’s it.  That’s my good girl – so perfect.”

Afterward, he apologized and left me a sweaty, trembling mess.  I didn’t see or even catch a glimpse of him again for nearly a month.  But, I would still dream of him at night – still hear his gruff voice echo in my subconscious in my hazy memories of assimilation or in my long tucked away memories of our past.  He was always there, even if I was now just one of his many afterthoughts.

And, time continued to march on, as it does.  I went back to work at my old firm, falling into a weekday routine that was familiar and safe.  On the weekends, I went out on more dates.  I reconnected with old friends and made a conscious effort to insert myself into society.  I taught myself to play the violin.  I went back to the biker bar and started a speed chess hustling ring with Toby, becoming feared and respected among the hardest bikers in the county.  I was living again and it was good.

Until —

 To be continued…

P.S. Extra special thanks to @porkchop-ao3 for lending a fresh perspective to help me work through a frustrating mental block.