Moreover Elsewhere
Black dunes, speckled with silver, glittering under a navy blue sky. The moon had turned away from the ringed planet by now. Though there were still slight golden edges of light along the horizon.
The stars were little splattered dots in the sky, distant nebulas hard to make out, and there were little white and blue blinking lights on the underside of something Ben couldn't quite make out the exact shape of, but he knew it was an Orbital Station, if he had to guess.
It was either massive, or closer to the planet than most orbital stations. Or both? Ben didn't know what exactly the normal rules were for out here.
He looked forward, he could see Rocket climbing to the top of a sand dune, where he carefully balanced the sled, before hopping on, and sliding down the side of the dune.
His face had a devilish grin as he howled on his way down, a standout 'WOOOOOOOUUUUH!' calling through the night. He had a certain level of natural whimsy, a certain level of natural joy. Or maybe it wasn't so natural, maybe it was just a good mood for the night.
He watches as he gets up at the bottom, tail swaying and twitching to get some sand out of it, as he brushes a bit more off his face and chest. He smiles to himself as he looks himself over, checks that nothing fell off the sled, and then glanced up towards Ben, before he keeps walking—at a noticeably slower pace.
Ben looks at the slope, hand on his chin.
He shrugs, and with a grin, he gets on his butt and slides down the dunes himself. He ends up rolling, but more importantly he just starts laughing. He rolls to a stop at the bottom, roaring with joy, his own call of the night, a big ol' 'YEAHHH'.
He notices Rocket shaking his head with a toothy grin, and an undeniable entertained expression. The little man turns back to his walk, and Ben jogs over to keep up.
The two walk in silence, only occasionally stopping when Ben needs a break. His body ain't made for walking across sand, especially like this, and it's not pleasant or easy to adjust to. It had yet to feel easy to do anything, honestly. Besides maybe smile.
It was weird. Such a hellish situation.
His friends missing, probably not here, Reed or Sue would've figured out the supply drops well before him, they would've likely crashed near each other, so they weren't here.
Part of that was wishful thinking.
A lot of it was hope and optimism.
Part of him wondered if Rocket had killed them. Honestly.
When they left the crate before, he had stopped by some rocks, and took out a handmade watch, with some sort of shoddy beeper, that somehow told Rocket where the ships were going. How he made that, Ben had no clue. Seemed like something Reed would do.
Rocket also had a somewhat poorly made sash with two metal sheathes for two metal blades, that looked shockingly deadly, already stained with dubious liquids. Ben didn't wanna ask, but red wasn't prominent so he would hope they hadn't met.
Plus Rocket had seemed more watchful upon first seeing Ben, and hadn't actually tried to instigate any violence.
Now if it were Sue or Reed…
Reed might've told Rocket to scram, but the second Rocket spoke, Reed would be fascinated and curious, probably try to test him or talk to him. That might not end well…
Sue would be friendly as ever, she really was a peach. Wonderful gal, even if Rocket DIDN'T talk she would absolutely share some food and water with him. She fostered some kittens every once in a while, she made birdhouses. She always loved animals. Ben thinks fondly of the photo albums from her archaeological expeditions, where she captured dozens and dozens of unique creatures from other countries on camera.
Reed would look at the cybernetics in the Raccoon's body, and probably get some ideas of what they were for, or try to find out. He loved finding stuff out. Learning.
Sue would wanna learn more about Rocket as a person, probably. Knowing he wants to be seen as one, she would want to get to know who he is, out of the sheer curiosity of what kind of person a Raccoon who can talk would be. Would she respect him as a person…?
Ben starts to think about it.
Reed probably wouldn't off of sheer principle, unless greatly moved by something.
Sue might be sweet and friendly, but her soft spot for animals might shine through stronger, and he don't think Rocket would like being treated with kindness as an animal, rather than being treated with kindness as a person. She might get better about it with some time, though. She's smart like that.
Johnny is a punk, Ben doesn't know him all that well, only know him through Sue, and a few sparse meetings. Johnny didn't seem to really recognize him when they signed up for the mission, either.
He was a dunce. He'd probably try to fight Rocket and get killed.
Hopefully he didn't land here.
Ben sighs, and looks from the distant thoughts of his friends, down at Rocket, walking ahead of him.
Rocket's fur was a warm brown, with darker streaks and stripes, and some creamy not-quite-white color around the mask on his face, on his ear tips, and on his tail tip.
Sand and dirt were caked in his leg fur, and his hands, he tries his best to keep clean, from the looks of it. And the fact he'd sometimes stop just to brush sand out of his fur. The little guy didn't like bein' dirty. Seemed rough, endin' up here, tried as a beast, sent t' your death, and y'don't even like bein' dirty, like an extra layer of hell.
Rocket's ears were always alert. Always twitching back and forth between his watch, Ben, and the distance. He could hear somethin' out there, but nothing that seemed to worry him too much.
His fur would sometimes tense up and bristle ever so slightly if Ben started walking too close, or approaching a little faster. Not to the extent he would turn around and snap at him, or threaten him, or whatever else he might do when he felt threatened. But Ben knew it made him uncomfortable. He didn't trust Ben. Ben didn't trust him. Not yet at least.
The little guy didn't seem to struggle much making his way through this desert. It wasn't as hot or cold as deserts were supposed to be, it was strange.
Ben looked out at the wasteland again, wondering how long Rocket's been here. How long he's been surviving. How long both of them would need to survive out here before whatever escape plan Rocket came up with could be done.
He didn't wanna seem impatient, but he didn't wanna be here in the slightest.
As he looks at the blinking lights of that station, he wonders if those are his accidental captors. The ones who don't even know he's there. Part of him wants to get their attention, call for help, make a getaway.
He wasn't a prisoner, surely they'd get it, see the mistake, help him out.
But that'd leave Rocket behind…
Plus, he didn't trust that station at all.
He might not have full faith in Rocket but he at least knew Rocket cared enough to make sure to slow down for Ben, take breaks…
At one point, Ben had sat down, panting, heaving. Hurt to breath, probably inhaled sand.
Rocket had tossed him a water bottle, even though Ben already had his half of the loot. Even though he really didn't need to.
He hadn't said anything, but his eyes had this gentle concern when he met Ben's eyes.
Then he sat on the sled, and waited for Ben to recover, just like usual in their strange little routine. As if nothing happened that was worth words. It felt strange. Comfortable.
Rocket was so strange…
An arsonist, apparently.
Surviving alone on this little planet for God knows how long.
He clearly had his own trust issues.
Had some level of anxiety about even having Ben with him, even having him walk near.
Ben got the idea.
This wasn't a guy who had it easy.
He looks at Rocket again.
His ears flicked so rapidly, and so precisely, if he watched for a minute straight, Rocket would flick his ears on the exact same pattern, exact same angles, practiced and perfect.
He tried walking to the side, just a little, and Rocket's angle adjusted ever so slightly, perfectly towards his new position.
Rocket's fur was as clean as he could manage. Slightly tangled in some visible spots. He had fashioned the scrap of cloth Ben spared for him into a loincloth of sorts, and besides that the only thing on his person besides the watch and sheaths and such was a dense black collar.
The metal looked cold and heavy. A little red light blinked on it. The cybernetics on Rocket's back too, looked like they must be miserable to live with. There were little grains of dirt and sand in the crevices between flesh and metal, and some of it looked more jagged than it likely should have been.
It had him thinking about what exactly happened to Rocket. Theorizing.
Was he a loner, desperate for the strength to survive, forced to augment himself with metal to gain the power to live?
A wayward traveler, with no love or respect given his way, trying anything to make it, including brutalizing his own body.
Or maybe he was a lab experiment. Some fucked up little science project… Forced into something he never wanted to be a part of… Jagged insertions of metal clues to a struggle, perhaps.
The latter made Ben grit his teeth.
The idea of some little creature tortured through something it couldn't fathom consenting to. Forced into a new mind, a new body…
But that assumed Rocket was just an actual raccoon, which Ben didn't wanna bet on. His bone structure seemed different, anyways.
Ben looks Rocket up and down.
He gave Ben the vibe of a guy who was one of a kind.
He didn't seem that phased by Ben, though, he now realizes… were there rock people in space…? Was he one now?
He thinks back to his initial theories, one was that he body swapped someone. He doesn't think that's true, but maybe he DID become a species that wasn't human.
His stomach churns at the thought. Feels like it tightens and flips, like he could throw up at the thought of not being human anymore.
He suddenly notices the sled stopped, and it had gotten a bit ahead.
Looking up, Rocket is looking at him.
Ben lowers his head, and gets back to walking. Rocket hesitates, but starts to walk, too. Doesn't comment. Ben appreciates that.
His feet feel like they drag sand as if it were water, when he's walking up the softer side of the sand dunes, the less firmed sides. Rocket seems to have no such visible trouble on the surface, but Ben sees his little annoyed bristles. He's likely getting sand in between his toes, miserably wishing he weren't. Just like Ben.
Ben's body was stiff, it felt sore, he wanted to take way more breaks, but that feeling whittled bit by bit as he was getting used to his body. Even if he kind of hated the idea of getting used to all this nonsense.
He sighs as he finally gets back to firmer sand. How it worked, he didn't know. He just knew one side was softer to walk on, which was bad. And one side kept firmer. Maybe the wind packed the sand down, or something…?
He keeps walking as Rocket does.
He feels sand in his shorts from his roll earlier. Sand in between the rocks and cracks that make up his body. They don't feel like they go all that deep… what was underneath his skin? Was it flesh and blood? Or stone and magma? He didn't know, didn't even begin to have an idea of how to find out safely.
Ben felt himself slowly starting to grow weary, exhaustion starting to go from something on the edge of his mind, to something that felt like it was taking up half of it.
He started to slow and stumble with time, and eventually Rocket noticed, stopping in the shadow of a massive black stone spire.
Rocket calmly climbed the spire to a higher point as if it were nothing. Disappearing in the stone edges and jutting sharp spots.
Ben sighed, and started to lay down, before Rocket suddenly dropped down onto the sand, and… darted off?
Just. Disappeared into the dunes. Just like that. Left the sled, though.
99% chance he'll be back.
Ben blinks, and then sits back against the stone spire.
He looks up at it. Almost looking like a giant jagged tentacle reaching up to the sky, but it went limp. Like whatever it was part of had died. But it still remained. Like a fossil…
He closes his eyes, briefly grateful for his stone body. It was durable enough that he didn't really feel the stone jabbing into him or anything, just felt comfy enough to sleep.
He wakes up from dreamless sleep as he hears the sounds of someone fiddling with metal. To no particular surprise, he sees Rocket attaching something to the Sled. He can't make out what exactly it is, but Rocket didn't abandon him or anythin'. Not that he thought he did. Or well, not like he entirely thought he did. 1% chance he thought he did.
Rocket had pulled the sled away a decent bit, Ben scoffs ever so slightly as he realizes that Rocket was trying to work without bothering him. What a doll, he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes. Going twenty feet to the right so his metallic clamour doesn't wake the rock.
He then thinks about it, and, well, even if he hadn't managed to do it properly, he did try.
Rocket had apparently thought of Ben, tried to be considerate, failed a little, but still DID it. He still tried. Ben appreciates that as he thinks it over again, almost chastising himself for mentally sassing Rocket.
For a moment, he wonders what he would do if it were him. Living who knows how long on his own, on a prison planet where the only survival supplies you're granted are food and water every twoish days. No shelter, no ability to really clean yourself. Nothin'.
He feels like he would've gone insane. Not even considering his current form.
He would break, he would probably let himself die, unless he was REALLY fueled by adrenaline to keep going, really had somethin' worth tryin' t' live for.
He thinks about it… Hilda, his girl back home, Reed, his best friend, Sue, his best friend's girlfriend who he gets along swell with. Johnny exists. He um… got along with Jeffrey! From the training team. But uh, Jeffrey never texted him when Ben gave him his number.
Ben frowns.
Who did Rocket live for?
Was he that determined to survive off of his own back? Enough Ego to fight to survive simply because he loved himself? That didn't seem like it… or he'd be a lot more selfish, probably.
Did he live out of spite? A denial of fate? With those horrible scars and implants, he should probably have died a long time ago. Did he simply live to prove whoever did it wrong? Assuming it was done by someone else…
Did he have his own girl back home? Or, well, raccoon? Guy maybe? He doesn't know the guy all that well. Rocket could be ace, or have five hundred wives for all Ben knows.
Did he have friends?
Ben thinks about how surprised Rocket was to be met with like, the simplest levels of courtesy. When he apologized to him before, he seemed sincerely stunned.
He probably didn't have much.
Ben ain't got much either, though.
But he promises himself that, with Rocket here's help, he'll live for what he loves.
He'll find Reed, Sue, Johnny, get back to his girl, hit up Jeffrey for drinks if he's feeling bold. Something like that.
And whatever Rocket lives for… Ben will try to help him get back to.
Ben might not have died if Rocket didn't show up, but damn would be miserable.
He thinks of the Raccoon's devilish grin when he slid down that dune. The way he always made sure Ben was keeping up. The way he had tried to work quietly, a little further away, to try and let him sleep.
It had yet to feel easy doing anything…
But smiling right now?
It just happened. That easy.
Ben closes his eyes again, passing out.
He wakes up, looking at the massive rings in the sky. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning. Has been every time he's woken up to it.
He glanced over, and sees the sled was returned to a closer position, and… oh, there's another crateside attached to it. A few, it looks like?? Basically a whole unfolded crate attached. No new supplies, though.
Rocket was sitting on part of it, fiddling with his watch.
As he worked, his tongue stuck out, his teeth aaaalmost biting it, from what Ben could see. He glared with intense focus, ears pivoting back and forth as sounds Ben could just barely make out happened.
Rocket was using his own claws like makeshift screwdrivers and pry bars and clippers. He was adept at getting whatever he was doing here done, if his precise, rapid movements were anything to go by.
He occasionally used his teeth to snip wires. Was it sanitary? Probably not. But Ben watched his teeth cut through the bronze looking wires and orange plastic like it was nothing, and couldn't help but feel satisfied. Like when you cut a slice of cake and it's just right. That sorta satisfaction.
He watches Rocket work, unsure what exactly he's doing, but he's doing it fast. Or, maybe fast? His movements are fast, actions are fast, but progress seems slow.
He wonders what Reed would think.
Then, he notices Rocket's ear flicks in his direction, and Rocket pauses, looking up. He turns and looks at Ben, and seems to get a face with… God what emotion was that raccoon expressing. One eyebrow down, one up, eyes a tinge annoyed, and yet he had half a toothy grin out. Then the other half of his mouth was closed more neutrally, as he gave the softest shake of his head. It was kind of fun, making out what his face was doing, it moved in such a unique way to anything Ben had really seen any other creature do. Truly one of a kind.
Rocket snorted out a light breath, and stood up. Trotting over, his watch left on the sled. Ben realizes then, what Rocket had heard. Or rather, what he hadn't.
Forgot that he snored…
"So y'r finally up." Rocket states, almost declaring that Ben had no right to go back to sleep if he wanted to, with only his tone.
Ben sighed, smiling helplessly, and shrugged. "I'm up, yeah."
"9 hours." Rocket clicks his tongue as he speaks, as if to emphasize a slight annoyance.
And yet he could've left him, could've just shoved off, could've woken him up. He didn't, and so Ben knew he wasn't THAT upset.
"That's th' longest sleep I have had since I got here." Ben chuckles to himself. "Feels good."
Rocket raises an eyebrow slightly, but seems to mentally note that, rather than dismiss it. Almost like he was keeping notes on Ben, locked up in his mind.
Rocket sighs, shaking his head again with a slight grin. "D'all th' big rock guys sleep that long?" His grin falters slightly, and Ben realizes what this is.
Rocket wants to know more about him.
His needs, his inner workings.
They're a team now. An odd team, but a team. Rocket wants to know his teammate.
"I uh… ain't a rock guy, normally." Ben admits, crossing his arms across his chest as he thinks about it again. Misery gripping his lungs, making him falter slightly on a breath, which he covers with a cough. "I'm… uh… normally human."
"Like from Earth?" Rocket tilts his head.
Ben nods. "Eeeeyup."
"Ain't neva' met one." Rocket shrugs, now sitting down next to Ben.
"Well, normally they got basic flesh. It's kinda, well, I was gonna say sandy cola'd but there're waayyyy more cola's than that. Y'got some folks who have ebony black skin, some with reddish skin, some got kinda a yellow cola', some're white an' snowy, made a whole movie about that one." Ben gives a playful grin, but Rocket doesn't get the reference. He offers a confused grin in return though, to be polite. That's somehow even more rewarding. "Some got beautiful brown skin, sorta like y'r fur but not. Like, god there ain't enough cola's out here f'r me to reference. An' when I said sandy I didn't mean… like," he gestures vaguely around them, "like beach sand, the beige kind."
Rocket nods, thoughtful. "S'pose that makes sense. Galaxy has so many different lookin' folks, each species a goldmine a' d'verse flarkoffs. An' every single one of 'em looks different if y' look close, but look th' same if y'ain't thinkin' about it." Rocket sort of rambles and rants about the subject. "Y'ain't like any rock guy I seen b'fore, so I almost woulda guessed y'weren't a stoneskin proper."
"Stoneskin?" Ben asks, curious. "That a species? What 'rock guys' are called?"
"Nah, I think it's a slur."
"…Huh."
Ben grimaces slightly.
Rocket seems to briefly read Ben's face. "No one ain't actually like, told me what their race is, an' it ain't been relevant t' nothin' I done, so I ain't ever looked it up." He seemed almost embarrassed, as if picking up on Ben's discomfort.
"I getcha. Would at least like t' know, might tell me somethin' about how I ended up like this." Ben gestures to himself. "I'm normally just… a guy."
"Are y' not a guy anymore?" Rocket tilts his head. There was such a sincere curiosity to his tone that Ben almost felt bad feeling awkward.
Then he realized… he uh. Hasn't… checked. He frowns.
He looks down, and frowns, trying to grab the waistband of his shorts, failing the first time, then succeeding.
Pulling it open, he looks in, little tricky with how inflexible he is now.
"Ah damnit, 'course it's rocks." He frowns.
Rocket also looks, fluffy head suddenly obscuring Ben's view before he can manage to object, but his tilted head conveys such a genuine curiosity that he opts not to shove him back. "Take it that ain't normal?" Rocket looks up at him.
"Uh… I mean, s'posed t' be there, the uh, thing. But normally it ain't that uh. Made o' rocks. Like th' resta me." Ben awkwardly half-mumbles.
Rocket looks in again. "I don't think Rock guys're s'posed t' have these. Sometimes they ain't got pants on at all, an' I never seen one a whatever that thing is. Oh, there're round things too."
Ben feels his face warming up and quickly snaps his waistband shut. That is enough observation, he doesn't want to test if Rocket is like Reed, touchy with whatever he's studying.
Rocket lets out a little surprised chirp, fur puffing up as he hops back, landing on his legs.
He blinks, and looks up at Ben. "I take it y'weren't feelin' great bein' studied. I get that. Bound'ry noted." He holds his hands up on surrender as he steps back further.
"I dunno, maybe like, anoth'r time, prob'ly important t' figure out more. I mean, I ain't even realized 'til JUST NOW that I ain't had t' piss since I woke up. That prob'ly ain't good." Ben frowns in thought. He hasn't really… had to do any of… well, that. "I ain't sweated either…"
"I don't sweat neither." Rocket shrugged.
He tries to think. "I… can't think if I've ever seen a rock guy do th' duties…" he waves his hand to make clear he doesn't really enjoy the subject. "'M sorry I ain't so knowin' on this subject."
"Ain't yer fault as far as I know, Rocky." Ben sighs, resting his chin on his fists, elbows on his knees. "Not on you t' know all this shit."
Rocket seems actively comforted by that, relaxing slightly, and looking significantly less guilty. "…Rocky?"
Ben blinks. "Oh—nickname. Kinda just blurted it out." He smiles awkwardly, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck. "Won't do it again if y'don't-"
"'S fine Rocky." Rocket says back, giving a playful closed-eyes grin.
Ben blinks. At first he thought it was a bit of a weak turnaround, but… he WAS made of Rocks. He was literally Rocky. That was kinda clever. And he couldn't deny there was something really nice about sharing a nickname.
He smiled softly. "Cool."
Rocket opened his eyes, matching his face to Ben's. Rocket's probably came across much nicer, seeing as Ben knew his eyebrow was overly large, and maybe a monobrow now. He also felt that his chin was bigger, and really hoped he kept at least some of his charming food looks.
Ben sighs, looking down solemnly as he thinks about what he lost.
Rocket frowns slightly, perking up. "Somethin' I say?"
"Hah, nah. Just… I liked bein' human. Hopin' I can fix this." He points to himself. "Feels… alien. Nothin' feels right, even walkin' feels hard. I lose energy so fast. I thought I was a heavy guy before, hah!" He would wipe a tear of he had one. Felt like he should've.
Rocket nodded in understanding. "Y're gonna figure it out." He walked a little closer, sitting next to Ben.
"I hope so…" Ben sighs, looking up at the sky. "I wanna be me again. Feels like I'm just a clutzy boulder, a monster-man, not the person I was a few days ago. Not anythin' like anyone. I can't handle that."
The sky slowly moves, like always. The moon slowly turning. He can see they're at a slightly different angle looking towards the big ringed planet than they were before. He can see more of the shadowy side of it.
He looks up at that space station.
He can see the distant blinking of a supply ship flying through the air. Reminds him of their mission.
He looks down at Rocket, "Should we get movin'?"
Rocket blinks back to reality, brow unfurrowing, tail unbristling, and he looks almost remorseful…? as he glanced up at Ben, before it seems to wash off his face like he got hit with a water bottle's worth.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's find that crash site. Should just be another day 'r two, if y'were right about the landmarks." Rocket mumbles, lower energy than before, odd…
He gets up, and Ben notices that Rocket's hand had been on his leg, probably giving a comforting pat he'd been too distracted to notice. Rocket moves to the sled.
Ben gets up, and is reminded of the expansion. "So what's all this for?"
"Now y'can sleep and we can move." Rocket explains, sounding more like himself now. "Plus when th' storm arrives tomorrow, we can fold this up f'r shelter." He taps his foot on the edges that fray out in a cross pattern.
Ben frowns. "Storm?"
"Sandstorm. Bluster. I call it th' black dagg'r wind. But that's a mouthful." Rocket shrugs. "Winds're movin' t'wards one t'morrow night."
"That. Seems… bad." Ben frowns even deeper. "Dagger wind?"
"Yeah, th' sand blows so fast n' hard it feels like little dagg'rs." Rocket lifts his arms, and presses some fur aside to show a wicked looking cut that's healing. "That's one a th' bigger cuts I got from being' caught in one recently."
"Y' didn't shelter back then?" Ben raises a brow.
Rocket's ears lower, and he turns away, a slight grimace on his face. "I uh. Didn't… want to. At th' time." He gives an awkward smile, as if he didn't just admit to what he admitted to.
Maybe Rocket wasn't made of such tough stuff and determination. Maybe Ben helped him, too. Like he was helping Ben.
Ben took a moment to look a bit closer at Rocket's arm while he had it still up. The fur was uneven. Parts that were growing back slightly lower, parts where he could just barely make out healing wounds from who knows when.
He looked at Rocket's torso, and saw even more signs of damage. He prayed this was all from the storm or somethin', he didn't want to picture Rocket… not… getting hurt via the storm.
Rocket jerks away. He tries to give a half-assed smile, and turn away fully, move towards the sled. "'M fine now."
"Rocky…" Ben sighs.
"Look-Look. I am. Fine." A slight, desperate tone infiltrated his voice. He didn't wanna be thinking about this. He was having a good time. He was getting along with Ben. He didn't trust him yet. Definitely not with something as dark as that.
Ben internally sighed, of course Rocket wouldn't be okay opening up THAT kind of hole this early on. Poor guy has had it plenty rough, Ben doesn't exacltly find it ridiculous he might…
Ben stifles his shudder, he sighs outwardly.
"A'right." He nods firmly. "I won't press."
"Bound'ry noted." Ben offers.
Rocket seems to bristle a little less, but has made a physical distance between them. He didn't like being looked at, especially, Ben would bet.
Ben thinks.
"Hop on th' sled. My turn." Ben offers, walking towards the front.
Rocket pauses, and seems to process the statement. He looks Ben up and down, glances at the sled, glances at Ben again, and a slight realization dawns in his eyes.
Ben can't look at him as easy if he's behind him. Rocket gets a break from leading the way, from prying eyes, from being Worried About in a way that he has to Feel.
Rocket walks over and hops onto the far back of the sled. Ben quietly walks over to the front, and picks it up, and starts pulling it. He hears what Rocket was working on earlier clatter around a little, and senses Rocket standing up and walking over, not concerned at all about the motion, probably plenty well balanced. At least on the outside.
Ben kinda hates where his brain is going now. As they yet again, walk silently. He spoiled their nice chatter, the back-and-forth exchange, the closeness. Maybe Rocket wasn't the grudge holdin' type? Hopefully not.
Ben walks as steadily as he can, occasionally hearing the little clicks of Rocket's teeth behind him, or maybe it was his claws against the metal. Or somethin' else. He just heard it every now and then.
Ben quietly walks, and his mind wanders much further than he does.
He imagines what it'd be like to be some little creature in the middle of a universe of aliens, probably struggling to survive. Probably struggling to be recognized as a person.
Being alone on a prison planet, sentenced to death, tried harsher because you don't have the same rights.
Alone for… who knows how long. Rocket, Ben supposes. Trying to put together some sort of escape. He thinks of the desperate hope in his eyes when Ben said he'd crashed.
Hopefully he'd be able to help. And the two of them would escape.
Find Sue, find Reed, find Johnny…
Fix his rock-iness. Make him a person again. And forget this whole mess ever happened, hopefully. Just go back home. Maybe he tries again in five years.
He sighs. He wouldn't be able to forget it, ever. And even though it's only been maybe two days or so, he lost track, he knows he won't forget Rocket. Especially if he saves him from this place.
He glances back at Rocket, then immediately turns away as he sees Rocket's back to him.
He takes a breath.
"How long y'been here…?"
He can sense the weight on the sled shift slightly, Rocket probably turned to look at him.
"What?" He asks, sounding almost confused at the sudden subject.
"I asked how long y've been on this joint. Been on uhh… whatever the name was." Ben waves a hand, he knew exactly what the name of the place was, but wanted to come across lax. "If y'don't mind chattin'."
"Just don't like th' quiet all that much." Ben lied. He was perfectly content in silence.
"Uh… how many hours in y'r days, Earth?" Rocket asks cautiously.
"Uh, 24." Ben hadn't thought about how time would… obviously pass differently out here. Or, not pass differently, but be measured differently. "24 hours in a day. And an hour is 60 minutes, I dunno why."
Rocket blinks. "…60 minutes in an hour is th' same out here. Huh, wonder why…?" He trails off, likely curious to know the actual reasoning for the similarity. It WAS kinda crazy.
"A-Anyways…" Rocket waves a hand.
"Um." He takes a moment to do the math.
"214 days. This is… Day 215." Rocket says firmly. "Yeah, 15 hours into 215. Huh."
Ben snorts slightly. "Funny how that works. You know th' specific hour? That's amazing."
Rocket sighs in a not-so-amazed way. "Got a d'ast comput'r in ma head." Ben glances back towards him.
Rocket is tapping one of his clawed fingers on the side of his head, eyes half-lidded in an annoyed and 'hates this fact' kinda way. When Ben looks at him, he gives a slight extra look. Ben takes it as a test, nodding and looking back. To show he was in fact done studying Rocket (for now).
"Well… nice y'know at least." Ben sighs. "Y'been alone all that time?"
Rocket pauses all movement, and after a moment, speaks hesitantly. "Not… not th' whole time. I mean there's now, obviously. But uh. Met a few other guys."
"Yeah?" Ben was curiously surprised.
He was starting to wonder what happened to them, but he sensed Rocket staying still.
Oh.
"…Glad they didn't get ya." Ben says softly.
"…yeah. guess so." Rocket says, his voice small. He feels Rocket shake himself out of it. "I mean, brought it on 'emselves, in th' end…"
Ben sighs, nodding.
He had to fight for basically 7 months alone on this stupid moon in th' middle of nowhere. Had t' kill other people to survive, t' get enough to eat.
Ben doesn't think he'd be able to do that, if he were in Rocket's shoes. Rocket has a fire in him that he probably never wanted to have.
Ben thinks of how to lighten the air.
"Wanna do some back n' forth?" He asks suddenly, looking over his shoulder.
Rocket's back was to him. His ears flicked to the back, then side, then perked up as his fur fluffed out in a way that was different to how it bristled when he was upset.
He looks over his shoulder. "…What's that?"
His tone was soft and curious. He seemed to always enjoy new things. It was cute.
"I ask you somethin', you answer, then you ask somethin', an' I answer. Helps us get t' know each other, an' pass th' time." Ben explains, and sees Rocket consider it.
He rubs his chin, then rubs his neck awkwardly. "I want th' right t' refuse questions." He says with a firm anxiety.
"Deal. Likewise." Ben smirks at him. Glad they had an understanding here.
Rocket sighed, sitting back as Ben turned back to walking forward.
"I asked somethin' first, you go ahead." Ben offers, hearing a little chirp from Rocket. Surprise, maybe?
"Oh, uh. Hm…" Rocket thinks a minute.
"S'what's that thing in yer pants called? Th' weird thing." Rocket asks. "I ain't seen one a' those b'fore."
Ben felt himself frown, cheeks feeling warm from embarrassment again. "Y' mentioned. That isss a penis, buddy. Sometimes called a dick. Or other things."
Rocket suddenly perked up, "huh??"
"THAT'S what a dick is!?"
Ben had to stop himself from swerving the sled off a dune as he suddenly doubles over, coughing from such sudden laughter.
"Ack-oh, augh, hahh…" he gasps for breath, "hhohh ma good gravy."
"I thought dicks were what ya call jerkwads!! Everyone says it!" Rocket tosses his hands up in mock-despair and shock.
Ben falls to his knees, giving in to the laughter. He wasn't ready for that.
He hears Rocket chuckling out to his side. "That's really what it's called??"
"Hahahh… yep, yes it is, buddy." Ben sighs. "Callin' someone a dick is real rude. It's a negative, f'r some reason."
"Noted, noted." Rocket nods, and the playful tone in his voice feels ominous to Ben, for some reason. "Thank ya f'r this valuable intel."
Ben softly chuckles, shaking his head as he gets back to moving.
"My turn."
"You ain't got a penis?" He asks bluntly, admittedly wondering about it. As much as part of him felt so stupid having a convo like this, he was REALLY curious about Rocket's earlier reaction.
Rocket makes a confused sound, almost sounds like a 'chirrip?'.
Ben glances over his shoulder, and Rocket is looking at him with wide, confused eyes, slightly furrowed brows, and tilting his head slightly.
He looks down and Ben looks away, sincerely concerned what Rocket might be doing, hopefully just thinking. How much thinking was necessary for this sort of question, anyway?
"…90% sure I don't." Rocket says after a second.
"90%?" Ben blinks, what does that mean??
"I don't think I have one." Rocket repeats. "Wait, ain't that a question??"
Ben blinks, "uh, yeah, I guess it is, so I guess you get two now?"
"Aight." Rocket thinks.
It's quiet for a moment, just the noises of Ben's footsteps and the crate sled sliding over sand. Kind of a grinding sound, but it was the price paid for travel.
"Tell me somethin', Grimm… d'you need t' eat as much as ya did at that first crate every time?" He shifts, and Grimm turns back, seeing he's sitting down, facing towards him now. Elbows on his knees, but limply hanging forward, in a casual, but attentive position.
He could see in Rocket's eyes that he was quite focused, though.
Back to this, huh… Ben thinks about it, and he DID somewhat gloss over telling his needs earlier. They got really sidetracked in that conversation.
"Uh… not normally, but I was starvin', an' kinda just hogged it down. I think if I'da eaten' much more than that I woulda puked." Ben chuckles as he looks forward, still walking.
"I used t' eat like, three meals a day, one a little lighter than the other two, but the other two's be hearty. I'd try an' eat well enough I wouldn't be gettin' tired on th' job. An' still have the nutrients an' such that I was healthy, an' could work out an' build muscle an' such." Ben explains, thinking about his old habits, as if they were a lifetime away now. "I dunno if I need more, or less food now. My weight feels like it doubled, an' this sand is hard t' walk on, hard t' travel… but I don't know if that's just th' environment, if I'm doin' somethin' in this process wrong or what… I ain't got no clue 'bout none of this new body nonsense."
"Sorry it ain't really the most helpful answer, Rocky." He looks over his shoulder.
Rocket had leaned back a bit more, a hand set behind him, bracing his arm against the sled to keep him steady, other hand on his chin. He was thinking. He blinks back to reality, and looks at Ben. "Oh, nah it's a'right. Just means we gotta experiment."
Ben is… surprised by the rather thoughtful, gentle answer. It was such a kind way to ensure he didn't feel bad about his situation, or attempt to. He hadn't expected something like that as the answer, for some reason…
Well, no, he knows the reason. Rocket was being forced to share his supplies with Ben now, so it felt important they know what he needs, so both of them can properly ration it out. But even though they didn't know, Rocket was perfectly fine with it. How he managed to be so calm in this mess, self-harm or no, Ben was impressed.
"A'right." Ben simply replied.
"Okay, my second one." Rocket nods, and Ben looks forward again.
"How strong are ya?" Rocket asks, and Ben imagines he's tilting his head. He seemed to do that whenever he was curious, kinda cute.
"Uhh… I ain't got a clue. I could bench like, 200 pounds easy when I was human. Well not easy, but like, I could do it consistently." Ben waves a hand to dismiss his brief confusion trying to explain. "My body certainly feels tougher now, but I ain't exactly got weights."
"We can hit up a gym an' find out," Rocket offers, "once we're off this joint."
"Sure, sounds fun." Ben chuckles.
Rocket leans back. "Aight, y'r turn."
"Hm… how strong'r you?"
Quiet for a moment…
"How much is a pound?"
Ben blinks. For a second he thought he was bein' ignored, before realizing 'no dur, 'course Rocket wouldn't know what a pound is.'
Ben thinks, briefly trying to think.
He looks at the sled, stopping to observe it. He looks around it, and then glanced at the blade on Rocket's side. "If I had t' guess, that'd be like, two pounds."
Rocket looks at his blade, picking it up, feeling the weight, and Ben swears he can see his eyes flicker to another color, like he was doin'… somethin'…
"Conversion…" Rocket mumbles.
"Easily? Probably c'ld casually lift up like, maybe 150 or so. In a pinch I could lift quadruple that or more." Rocket offers.
"…What." Ben blinks at Rocket, now just fully staring at him. He was tiny, there was No Way.
"Th' biggest thing I lifted was way more than that." Rocket shrugs. "Don't got a proper meas'rment for it."
"Huh."
Ben didn't know if he believed that.
Rocket's turn, though.
"If y're a guy, d'ya go by he an' him?" Rocket asks, a good question.
"Y'know what, that won't count. That is a great starter. Shoulda asked that both ways sooner." Ben says firmly. "I am in fact a he/him guy. You?"
"Ehhhh…" Rocket fumbles for thought. "Maybeeee… He an' Him, an' They an' Them? Never sup'r thought about it."
"Wan' me t' test it out?" Ben hums.
"Uh… sure?"
"This 'ere's my buddy Rocket, they're th' best!"
"That's Rocket, he's real cool."
"This is Rocket, they're a genius if y'need one!"
Ben looks back at Rocket, who's rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, seems right."
Ben smiles. "Good."
Rocket gives a soft, subtle smile. "Good."
They look at Ben neutrally. Realizing something. "Oh, so still my turn."
He frowns, thinking hard about what he's gonna ask. Then their ears perk up! "Fav'rite food!"
Ben chuckles, "I'm big on' pizza."
"Pizza?"
"Pizza."
"What's yours?" Ben asks, amused as he watches Rocket's face wash over in lighthearted confusion and betrayal, being barely answered.
"A-Uh-mmmmmm…" He playfully glares at Ben. "Popcorned Grits."
Ben's turn to raise an eyebrow.
Except—"What's pizza?"
Ben snorts. "My favorite food~"
He smirks at Rocket as he puffs up, gasping in betrayal. Their jaw dropped in such a comical way, fur puffed up in shock.
"WHAT!?!?"
Ben can't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, nah, I'll tell ya, I'll tell ya. Just messin'."
Rocket grins, their smirk indicating they knew, and were playing along. Man he's fun to talk to.
"It's like… damn, so many kinds a' pizza…" He has to actually think for a minute. His favorite… he was a fan of the more commonly found classic style, but that was like, aughrhrgrgg. He loved all pizza, it all brought somethin' great t' the table.
He thought of deep dish pizza, thin crust, pizza bites, roll ups, pizza pasta, dessert pizzas, all the wonderful kinds of pizza in th' world.
He just opts t' stick with the classic.
"So y'take like, a bread, but it's like, made a' dough you roll it out." He was not a cook. This would be hard.
"You uh… lay that out. Then y' take a sauce. It's like, red, and has a tang to it. Sometimes got a lil' more spice, norm'ly it's got t'matas as a base but I doubt space's got t'matas. An' like, herbs that help th' flavor."
"Then y' put some cheese on, can be like, any kinda cheese I s'pose. I like shredded."
"Then y' put toppin's. I'm partial t' beef, most people like pepperoni, which is like, red lil' meat circles, also kinda spicy. But like, th' barest minimum of spice, overall. Think it loses some'f it in th' cookin' process or somethin'."
"Oh yeah, y' bake it! An' the crust has t' get all crispy, an' th' cheese melted n' such." Ben explains, seeing that Rocket looks sincerely interested. Which makes Ben just feel even more excited about telling him.
"An' that is how y'make y'rself a beautiful pizza. Probably. Approximately." Ben feels slightly awkward now, since he still doesn't know for sure if that IS exactly how you make pizza. Not a cook.
Ben blinks back to reality as Rocket suddenly speaks.
"Int'restin'…" Rocket rubs his chin, "now I really wanna try it, flarkin' 'h…"
Rocket grumbles, flopping on the sled, hands on his stomach.
Ben grins back at them.
"Tell me 'bout Popcorned Grits." Ben smiles.
Rocket perks up. "Oh!"
"Poppy Bits, I like t' call 'em!" They start up excitedly. "Y' fry leftover meats from butcherin' or such, an' it's all crumbly an' crispy outside, but warm an' mushy an' delicious an' a bit of a surprise on th' inside. It's th' best. It's always fun an' good, an' we're gettin' some on our way out." Rocket grins excitedly. "Love 'em. Love 'em love 'em love 'em!!!"
Ben can't help but grin at their enthusiasm. "I can't wait."
Rocket does this unique, slightly open-mouthed smile, teeth on display, eyes closing slightly. Ben might mistake it for a snarl if not for the positive energy practically radiating off of them. He couldn't help but grin back.
Rocket clicks his teeth as he closes his mouth, snickering slightly. "Can't WAIT!" They say excitedly, "We'll get off this rock, an' we can do a buncha stuff. Learn more about stone-" They pause. "More about… rock guys."
"Yep. An' make pizza." Ben grins.
Rocket chuckles. "Yeah… an' make pizza..."
They then rub their chin. "Hm…"
"What's yer job?"
"Huh?" Ben blinks.
"I wanna know how y'end up crashin' on a prison moon when y'don't know squat 'bout nothin'." Rocket gestures towards Ben. "So yap."
Ben blinks. Before grinning in almost nervously. "Ah… well, this is gonna sound stupid. Just a warnin'."
Rocket blinks, raising an eyebrow.
"I was an astr'naut, AKA space pilot." Ben looks back at Rocket, curious how he'll react.
Rocket tilted his head. Their pinkish-red eyes looked confused. "Whyzat stupid?"
"Oh. Well… Earth ain't as advanced, so I guess I just felt a lil' silly sayin' I'm a space pilot when everyone an' their dog is probably a space pilot out here." Ben explained his thought process. "Makes me feel stupid. A lil bit."
"Most people ain't all that good at it. If y'have any skill whatsoever, good job. Y'ain't a moron." Rocket grins.
"I'm a pilot too. Made for it." Rocket offers.
"Woah, what's that mean?"
"Ace pilot, mechanic, engineer, inventor…" rocket lists things off excitedly.
"If there's a ship involved, I c'n do it." They grinned excitedly.
"That's confident." Ben smirks.
"Got reason t' be." They grin smugly.
"We'll see." Ben teases.
"S'if y'r so skilled, why turn t' crime? Or, arson, or however y'wanna answer?" Ben asks inquisitively. It came out fast and natural.
Rocket was quiet a moment.
The smile falls off their face, and they turn away, looking up as they think.
Ben suddenly feels like he asked a question he really shouldn't've.
But… He didn't wanna decide to take it back when Rocket still hadn't said anything.
They were silent, just staring up.
Ben kept walking.
After maybe five minutes, they sigh.
They take a breath in...
"When…"
"When y'go out into a universe, an it's all already all made up an' set with all these rules an' standards, an' y' don't meet none've 'em…"
"Y'r small, an' don't know words all that good… don't undastand all this stuff they talk about like it's everyone's common kna'ledge…" Rocket trails off slightly, before continuing again after a second, "y'don't get… shown… how things work. Y'don't get taught, no one shows ya th' things that matter. They shout at ya f'r bein' wrong, chase ya instead a tellin' ya no. They don't give ya chances. Chances are f'r people. Not scared little punks."
"Y'don't learn that y'gotta get a job. Y' learn y'don't got what they're after, so y'can't just ask nice, 'cuz they won't give it. They don't say why, they say y'need money, don't tell ya what it is when ya ask. Just look at ya like y'r stupid." He had a sharp snarl on his voice. "An' then y' sneak some, and run. 'Cuz it's all y'can think t' do. Askin' didn't work."
"Then they chase ya, beat ya, send ya somewhere else. An' y'learn there that y'gotta compete with all these other bastards no one cares about. Y'will each other by existin', y'will each other t' get t' keep existin'. An' y'lose th' will t' exist, sometimes. But y'don't wanna give up, and y' keep goin'." Rocket rants. "Until y' can't make it. Some day. But y' don't give up. Y' keep fightin'. Until someone else kills ya."
"Y' steal, y' fight, y' run, y' kill."
"An' 'ventually, y'learn about bounty huntin', and it's just about th' only thing y' can actually do, cuz' y' can't apply f'r a job without bein' laughed off, but y' can forge an ID t' get sent th' units f'r the guys y' beat up."
"An' it's all y' can do. But then even that ain't allowed. An' y'r still just fightin'. Always."
"An' sometimes y'r trapped. Y' manage t' come up with a plan, but… y'don't realize somethin's a lot… more volatile, than ya thought."
"An' y' start fires y' didn't wanna start." Rocket's voice softens.
"'Cuz y' ain't never had a chance." Rocket sighs.
Ben is silent. He… hadn't expected that.
His heart felt so tight now. Not just thinking about Rocket, but thinking about all the people he ever spotted stealin', or startin' fights over 'petty' things. He starts to wonder what he didn't know. What he could've learned. Wonder if he could've helped, had he known, made their lives easier or better. Do anything like that.
He thinks of the time he was a teen, and he decked a kid he caught stealing. What was her story? What did he not know? She got arrested. That could've ruined her life. He never cared to follow it up.
He imagines that happening to Rocket. How much have they gone through, he wonders…
"Was that a bad—"
"Who're Sue, Debbie, an' Reed?"
Ben freezes.
Rocket stays still.
Ben sighs. He couldn't blame them for wanting to ask something more personal after what Ben asked. "That's my family, I s'pose. Closest I got t' one at least."
Rocket stays silent, Ben doesn't turn to see his reaction, what their face shows.
"I… Reed an' Sue're my best buds. Debbie's my girlie. I love 'em all. I'm worried about 'em. There's Johnny, too, missin' somewhere, but Debbie is f'r sure back on earth." Ben explains.
"I gotta find those three. They gotta be out there somewhere, if y'ain't met 'em here. An' seein' as if y' did meet 'em, they must be dead now, they're out there somewhere." Ben says firmly, more convincing himself. "An' that's what I gotta deal with. I gotta find 'em once I get off this joint."
Rocket sighs.
Ben looks ahead, he can see his crash site.
"An' we're gettin' even closer t' that." Ben gestures ahead.
Rocket blinks, and hops off the sled.
He walks next to Ben.
"Start goin' t'wards that star's direction. Straight." He points somewhere to the left of where they came from. "Keep goin' as long as y' can, 'til y'find th' next supply drop."
Ben pauses, looking down at Rocket.
They're stretching, warming up their arms.
"…what're you doin'?" He looks down at them, a good bit concerned.
"Gonna be workin' a while."
Ben pauses, looking down at him.
"I'll catch up." Rocket shrugs.
Ben frowns. "And… th' storm…?"
"Y' fold the sled up like a box. Can y' manage that?" Rocket glances up at him.
"…Yeah." Ben frowns.
Rocket nods. "Good."
Ben watches him walk away.
They disappear over the dunes. Carrying on towards their mission.
He thinks Rocket wants to be alone, and wonders what he could've said differently, to avoid this outcome.
He KNOWS it's a bad idea, KNOWS nothing good is gonna come of him being alone, but he sighs.
It's not his place to force him to stay close.
He shouts.
"ROCKY!"
He waits a moment, then sees little ears poke up over a dune surprisingly further away than he expected.
Rocket pokes his head up all the way, and Ben sees the glint of his eyes.
Ben tries to carefully toss a few food bars and water bottles over the dunes to him, they go a bit too far, but Rocket watches them go by, and then they look back at Ben.
Ben puts his hand up to emphasize his following about.
"Stay safe, Buddy!"
Rocket lingers, watching him a second, before rolling his eyes, and ducking away.
Ben hopes that helped.
He turns, and starts walking where he was directed.