Rule nr. 1: You can't outrun your own fear.
It happened quickly, before he could stop it.
Peter raised his hand towards him casually, offering a high-five to celebrate their victory over his father, Ego the Living Planet.
But, that’s not how his mind saw it. He flinched.
It was so slight, but so unexpected, they all noticed.
His paw was hanging limply in the air, extended far too late. Rocket put it in his pocket instead, using it to ground himself, shutting his eyes.
You're not back there, you're not back there...
He uttered the mantra frantically, waiting for himself to believe it to be true.
“Hey, are you okay?” Peter asked quietly, wondering what horrible trigger caused this.
“Bad memory,” he muttered, reluctantly opening his eyes to see their noble leader staring at him, concerned.
Quill got a very bad feeling in his gut. For a raccoon to be scared of a hand as an adult...
“Rocket, how old were you when they took you?”
89P13 shuddered. This was getting way too close for comfort.
“I dunno, a few days old?” Rocket answered uncertainly, to the immense horror of the entire team.
“I got a sneaking suspicion I was born in captivity. My first memory is of the cage where I played with my brothers and sisters. There were no trees or anything outside,” he shared his darkly veiled origins. “Just metal,”
They noticed their friend hadn't stopped panting since he’d opened his mouth to speak.
Acting quickly, Star-Lord resolutely grabbed hold of the little guy’s shoulders, slowly and calculated so as to not spook the poor fella.
“You're not there anymore... you got away... no one’s gonna come along and do anything to you, ever again. I won’t let them, I promise. You’re safe now,” Peter whispered softly.
Little by little, his breathing returned to normal.