I broke Dad
They sat up, rubbing their eyes.
Everything felt weird, their mind rushed with information, the Air Conditioner in this room needed fixing, the vents needed repaired, the Oxygen Filter was very fresh.
What did any of that mean? How did they know any of this? What is an air conditioner? An oxygen filter? A vent?
They felt a massive dictionary of information in their mind, how to fix things, how things connect, how to watch for things that are wrong.
They had heard someone.
'He's waking up!' They had said.
They hear the sounds of many footsteps, it makes their fur bristle and tense up. More things.
They couldn't handle more things right now.
They stare at the massive group of people, or, it feels massive. Have they seen another person before? Nothing is in their head.
They feel like they're trapped and everything is too much, too many, all of the people (how do they know the word people?) staring at them.
They toss the blanket that was over them (how did they Know That) aside, and jerk away as the biggest one steps towards them.
They feel something tug on their arm.
There's a status checker wrapped around their bicep (HOW DID THEY KNOW THESE THINGS), they rip it off, knowing it's not dangerous to do so (HOW HOW HOW).
They leap from the bed, scrambling away.
"Rocket??" Someone asks, their voice shakey and crumbly.
They run on all fours, towards the other side of the room. They get behind a coffee table (what was that, why do they know).
They realize there isn't an escape route.
They turn, no other options. They don't know what else to do.
"Wh-Where am I?? Who a you?? Who am I?? What is this?? Why do I know so many things??" They plead, their voice cracking, they feel things but they don't have the words for THAT. Why don't the have the words for THAT.
They feel like half a person, less, what is a PERSON. Why do they feel like HALF.
The Flora Colossus (WHAT IS THAT.) drops their box. Everyone is staring at them even harder now. They DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS.
"Who 'm I? Where're all these... Why d' I got all this stuff in my head, why do I know what things a' but not know what they a', what is an Ai' C'ndit'ner!?" They say, voice cracking even more. "Please..."
"It's too much..." They whimper.
All the people are frozen.
They have no clue what those expressions on their faces mean.
All they know is what things are, but they don't know what the things are, they know how to take everything around themselves apart, and have no clue what those things do. But they do. But they don't. Why why why why why why why why why.
"R... Rocket?" One of the people, he's wearing some sort of... Floppy, cloth thing. Box on his waist. He has a space-capable holomask on, it's hidden right now but they can see the clips behind his ears.
He steps forward and repeats himself. "Rocket. Is... Is this a joke? Please be a joke."
"What's a joke?? Who is Rocket? Why a' you callin' me that??" They ask, confused and pleading for answers. Will they understand answers?
The man freezes, and something crosses over his face. His mouth tilts down and he bites his lip.
"Do you know... 89P13...?" He tries to ask.
"No!!! I-That ain't an answer, I just-wanna know everything, I don't know anything, I know all this stuff but I don't know it-" Their chest feels painful and tight. They can't. Breathe. What do they do, what do they do.
"Hey-Hey." The man says, a harshness to his voice that gets their attention.
"Breathe. In, and Out." He says, his eyes holding something deep in them.
They try to follow the instruction.
Breathe? Take breath, air, in.
Hold it... And out.
Again.
And again.
It... Helps.
The man is kneeling down to be at their eye level now. His eyes look like water. Kind of.
"Who're you?" They ask weakly.
He seems to crumple slightly. His eyes get this indescribable look in them. They don't... They don't have the words. They want the words.
"I'm Quill." He says softly, sounding like he was having a hard time saying it.
"...Thank ya, Quill." They say, appreciating the breathing advice. "I don't... Know... I..."
They put their hands to their head.
"You wanna be left alone for a bit...?" Quill offers.
"What is 'left alone'?" They look at him, tilting their head.
The man seems to sag a little.
"It means we all go away, and you stay here so you can... Do things at your own pace, when you're ready." Quill explains. "It seems like you're kinda overwhelmed, and, we don't want to hurt you."
"Overwhelmed...? Pace. Hurt...?" They rub their head, trying to summon definitions.
Pace was moving at a rate that's comfortable.
Comfortable meant Good, Safe, and Easy.
Good meant you weren't bad.
Bad meant you weren't good.
Safe meant things were okay, and nothing was dangerous.
Dangerous meant something was out to hurt you, and had the ability to.
Easy meant it wasn't Hard, it wasn't a struggle.
Hurt meant pain.
They at least knew what pain was, that had come up in their head, they were in pain, their arm was hurt.
So much of it just led to more trying to figure things out. Someone might have been talkin' but they weren't sure.
"I wanna be alone." They say finally.
"Okay." Quill says, and all the people leave.
Except the Flora Colossus.
The Colossus is undersized, underwater currently, needs more sunlight.
How do they know that and why.
They stare at each other.
"Groot..." A voice calls, and the Flora Colossus stares still.
"I am... Groot?" It says, waving a hand slightly.
They hesitate, but raise a hand to wave back. "Hi, Groot." They try. Greet back.
"I am Groot?" The Colossus repeats. Tilting it's head. Why is it repeating itself...?
"...Hello, Groot." They try again.
They were grateful to be given a name, but what did Groot want?
They sigh, "I dunno who I am. Sorry."
The Groot's face falls, and they look at the floor, and slowly walk away.
They sit down on the bed.
What do they know?
They have a dictionary in their head.
Technical information...
One thing stands out...
A view.
Inside some large cargo bay, ships to the side, a chalkboard, they were on a lap, looking out.
It was beautiful, forever, and blue. A still image but they could imagine the clouds moving. The rocket ships taking off.
The most beautiful thing the know.
The Sky.
Peter, Gamora, Drax, Mantis, Kraglin, and Cosmo all slumps around the living room table. They're splayed over couches and chairs, despair in the air. It's inescapable.
"He has amnesia." Peter sighs with audible pain. "He has amnesia."
"Only partial, apparently. He seems to know some things, at least." Gamora points out, but her voice betrayal her concern.
"Whad're we gunna do?" Kraglin asks plainly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his jacket's hood.
"I don't know. D-Do we think it's a glitch or somethin'...? Like, all that mechanical stuff in his brain, somethin' ain't workin'?" Quill puts his head in his hands. "I don't know..."
'Cosmo has failed friend...' The space dog whimpers, resting her head on the arm of the chair she was in with a whine.
"What!?" Peter asks, stunned by the sudden statement. "How?? It wasn't your fault!"
Cosmo is so ruffled that she barks before she thinks her response. 'Cosmo ran from fight! Too afraid to aid. Rocket hurt because she is bad dog.'
"Cosmo, no, it was an accident." Gamora says firmly. "We have no way to know if it would have turned out any differently depending on your actions or not. We aren't multiverse hoppers."
"He seemed so confused..." Mantis says softly. "I cannot imagine losing so much of what made me, me..."
"He was in pain." Drax says, quietly looking at the floor. "He was afraid. Overwhelmed. I hope leaving him on his own helps him."
They all turn as they hear Groot approaching. The teenage Colossus looks like his whole world was destroyed. Peter quickly stands up, Gamora, Drax, and Mantis all sitting back down when they see him do so.
"Buddy..." Peter says softly.
"i am groot..." He says softly, dejected.
"he doesn't understand me..."
Everyone is silent.
Peter pulls Groot into a hug as the Flora Colossus starts to whimper and sob.
"Dad just... He ain't himself right now." Peter tries to reassure him.
"I am Groot... I broke Dad..."
"I am Groot. I got his memories broken."
"No, Groot. It was an accident. I will Not let you think like that. It's okay, he will be okay, we will figure this out." Peter says in his authoritative dad voice. "What's important is that Rocket isn't hurt right now."
"I mean, his arm is still injured but like, at least his brain didn't turn off, he didn't die or anything." Peter gently pats Groot's shoulder, to make sure he focuses on what he's saying. "Which means we can fix it. We can make things better."
Groot seems to cheer up, ever so slightly.
"Let's just... Let's do something, like, let's watch a movie, pass time while he adjusts." Quill says, turning to everyone for approval.
"That seems like a good plan." Gamora says, leaning back to rest in the couch she's on, relaxing slightly, now that they have something to do.
Mantis nods, Kraglin stretches and gives a thumbs up. "Aye aye Cap'n."
"I will watch the time as well, and ensure we do not miss dinner. Which I am preparing tonight." Drax says firmly. "I am going to ensure that Rocket eats, too."
"Good plan." Peter gives a thumbs up.
'Cosmo keep ear out for friend Rocket.' Cosmo looks towards the hall that leads to the room they left Rocket in. 'Alert if anything does happen.'
"Okay. Now that's a full plan." Peter smiles at Groot, "See? It'll be okay."
Groot smiles ever so slightly. "I am Groot... Okay..." He moves to sit by Mantis and Kraglin, between the two, specifically, glancing longingly towards the hall, before turning to the screen as Peter sits down to find something to watch.
They'll figure this out.
Drax had moved to the kitchen, halfway through the romantics drama movie Peter Quill had chosen. Drax had been enjoying it, but he enjoyed having time and space to himself when cooking.
He laid out his ingredients.
Utao Hearts had long since become a family favorite. Mashing some would be easy and delicious.
He had some kind of tusked animal's meat, it was rich and delicious, he forgot what it was, Rocket always got it for him, and just said "Quill called it Beef, it ain't but I don't care."
And Drax never thought he would have to know, since Rocket knew. And Rocket always shopped with him. Or went shopping for him.
Drax prayed they fix this, that it isn't something they have to suffer forever.
He tries to imagine life without their (physically) littlest family member.
No Rocket to cook with, train with, joke with, laugh with. To teach him things, and be taught back.
His best friend would be gone.
Drax realizes he's trembling at the thought. He's full of fear. Terrified.
He breathes in and out.
'The specific technique Rocket taught me.' He thinks, pain gripping his heart.
Cosmo blamed herself. Groot blamed himself. Drax wishes he had gone with, so he could blame himself as fiercely. He simply blamed himself for not going. He couldn't reasonably blame himself further.
He finds himself mourning, and has to forcefully grasp his mind, drag it back to reality. Rocket isn't dead. He lost his memories, but he isn't dead. He didn't even lose ALL his memories.
He was... He was still Rocket, right?
Drax shudders.
He focuses on getting everything out. Spices. Bowls. Tools. Some little yellow orb vegetables called Papraxi, Rocket likes them.
You cool them right, and the inside pops out when you bite them right, and it's quite satisfying.
Rocket always loved any food with good textures, but seemed to have a fondness for foods with interesting exterior and interior textures or sensations, that were drastically different from each other. It was an endearing trait which Drax used for cooking ideas, sometimes.
Drax could bake the Utao Hearts, maybe fry the exterior, or be quite careful, and he could surgically remove the interior, and mash that, then fry the stuff it back in and fry the skins. Rocket would love that. He could make this whole meal something Rocket would love. He wanted to.
But honestly, he wasn't sure he had the energy.
He sighs, defeated, and starts to cook.
Cooking the steaks. That's an easy first step, the Utao hearts are easy to mash while the pan heats up, and the meat starts it's process.
He was mashing the Utao Hearts, when he hears a puny little voice.
"what's that...?" Rocket asks gently.
Drax feels tension fill his body.
He turns to Rocket, and tries to exhale his stress away. "I am cooking dinner. That is... Food."
"Food..." Rocket looks thoughtful, and puts a hand on his stomach as he seems to process what that means. Does he have some sort of internal computer he's searching up information in? That's what it almost looks like he's doing.
"Who're you?" Rocket suddenly looks up at him, tilting his head.
Drax feels it again.
Every time Rocket said that, it felt like an icy stab in his heart. His best friend didn't recognize him.
"I am... Drax. The destroyer." Drax explains, setting his bowl down, hearts sufficiently mashed.
"Do you... Know who you are?" He asks, turning away as he studies the cooking steaks.
"No..." Rocket admits. "But I think I got a name? I don't... I don't know f'r sure."
Rocket had moved further into the kitchen. He wasn't afraid. He didn't seem nervous to be near a stranger. That wasn't very Rocket at all.
"You do have a name, yes." Drax nods.
"Yeah... I had... One memory I und'stood, that felt like... A thing. I think my name's from there." Rocket speaks, hopping onto a stool and sitting down. He was no less athletic.
"...And... What was the memory?" Drax finds himself curious, as he spices this first steak.
"I was... Somewhere... I was small."
"An' all I saw was this beautiful, endless blue in fronna me. It was the greatest thing. It... Made me hope, made me happy..."
"I wan'ed t' be it, or a part of it, or somethin'..."
"Is that so...?" Drax was genuinely fascinated, he felt like he was learning a secret, one he would guard forever, should Rocket like.
"Yeah..." Rocket looks up at nothing, his eyes distant. "I know what I wanna be."
"I wanna be part a th' forever, part a th' blue, th' beauty, th' hope."
"I wanna be Sky."