Chapter 2
“Team movie night is starting now!” Quill announced, though they were all assembled with varying degrees of willingness.
“Quill,” Drax interjected from his large seat beside the makeshift couch in the ship’s lounge area. This consisted mainly of a motley crew of found seats and couches, a table with three legs and an old TV. “Is this yet another motion picture about a group of misfits who gradually come together and discover that they are indeed more alike than they are different?” Quil pursed his lips, pressing play on the remote and threw himself down on the orange colored couch beside Gamora.
“No, but if it was that would be the plot if our movie!”
“We have a movie?” Quill rolled his eyes,
“Nah, we don’t, at least not yet! But it would be awesome if we did!” The tattooed alien nodded in agreement. “Anyways Drax it isn’t the Breakfast Club, that was last movie night! Its horror week remember! Scream, Final Destination, Saw! Tonight, it’s Frankenstein, and it’s one of the greatest monster movies ever!” Drax nodded, and resigned himself to watching the movie unfold. For his part, Rocket half-watched, as he did most movie nights and instead focused his efforts on tinkering with fixing the blaster that needed upgrading since their last job.
“My creation!” The movie sounded, creation. Rocket’s ears flicked up, watching as the monster twitched and stirred. Wires, metal and numerous other contraptions hung from the thing’s arms and legs. Screws were wired into its head and its mouth stitched on either side. Rocket’s stomach lurched as he gazed transfixed. It was not until the creature came alive and began to make a mess of that lab that Rocket found his mind racing with memories.
The doctor in the white coat yelled in fury, “Oh dear god! I have created a monster!” Monster, Rocket stood, unable to take it any longer and stalked briskly from the room, the echoes of the monster on the TV, and Dr. Frankenstein’s subsequent discipline upon
it made Rocket’s hair stand on end, fists clenched until he made it to his and Groot’s room.
“Rocket?” Quill’s familiar hesitant call came not long afterward. Shit, Rocket thought. He had hoped he had been stealthy enough to slip away without them noticing.
“Go away Quill,” he seethed. But as usual the human wouldn’t take no as an answer. Instead Quill came in slowly and sat down beside where Rocket had curled himself on his cot. Slowly the raccoonoid’s mind arduously lifted from the throws of memories. As soon as he became coherent, he said it aloud.
“I’m a monster…” Peter turned, just as he’d been ready to leave.
“What? No Rocket,” the raccoonoid only choked back what was either vomit or tears, it was always hard to tell. Peter sighed,
“Monsters aren’t capable of love Rocket,” Quill whispered. He shivered, those masked eyes of the doctors looking into him every time he blinked. His head and tail weighed down so heavy.
“Tsch,” he shrugged after a time of odd silence.
“Don’t give me that,” he admonished, back turned. “I saw your face the day Groot was reborn.” Rocket rubbed his eyes with a paw, trying to peer through the haze of his stupor.
“Yeah…what of it?” At this Quill turned, holding out the refilled water and smiled down at him.
“I saw the look on your face when Groot stretched his little arms out of that twig Rock; you looked like you had just witnessed the most perfect and most precious thing in this whole galaxy come into being.” Rocket stared at his feet but swiped the water, knocking it back as though it were a shot. Stars he wished it was. “Your eyes were larger then stars man, you saw Groot emerge from that twig and you were vowing to cherish and protect him from everything.”
Rocket’s tail only twitched, and Quill sat down next to him, looking at his face though he turned away. “Rocket I’d only seen that look once before man,” the raccoonoid’s mind couldn’t prepare a smart retort in time before the humie continued. “From my mom, when I was little. First memories I have of her was her beaming down at me with that same look of unconditional love on her face,” he grinned himself at the bitter sweetness of it. At this Rocket turned, “no monster could ever look that way.” A repressed smile lifted on the raccoonoid’s face, reliving that tumultuous day. “That’s true love Rock. You love Groot, and I’m pretty sure you love the rest of us too, though you’d never admit it,” he teased with a playful shove. Rocket finally brought himself to look at Quill, eyes rimmed with tears elated by the warm expansive feeling that had lifted in his stomach out of the sourness. Light and sweet, maybe Quill was right. The raccoonoid didn’t have to respond with words for Quill to know what he meant. The human nodded, patting him on the back ever so gently.
“C’mon Rock, we’re not gonna watch that movie.” Rocket’s eyes narrowed, “we’re gonna watch a different one, one you’ll really like.”
“Why are you so sure I’m gonna like it?” He challenged gruffly. Quill only stood,
“There’s a scene where they steal a Ferrari,” this provoked a twitch of the ear, indicating curiosity.
“What’s a Ferrari?”
Quill beamed, “like a really expensive ship! Let’s go!” Rocket pretended to resist, but stood, following the human with a renewed sense of acceptance. It felt nice and the raccoonoid held it close as they made their way back to the rest of the gang.