Chapter 3
The Guardians had learned pretty quickly that there were certain rules about living with Rocket. Never interrupt him when he was tinkering with a bomb-which was quite often-never, ever mention Yondu under any circumstances and Mantis could never touch him. But sometimes rules had to be bent.
“I am Groot!” The flora colossus shrieked from his pot nearby, trying to angel himself to see the commotion.
“Don’t tell me what to do Groot!” He twisted on the table, ignoring the pain that ripped through his wound.
“Cease your struggle and let us help you!” Drax put in, his large hand immobilizing one of the raccoonoid’s arms. Still, Rocket fought, thrashing and kicking, hackles up.
“That kurtuckan ass! He shot me!” Rocket snarled, ears flat. His back arched upward as he sensed Gamora approaching him with surgical scissors.
“Rocket listen to me, it just grazed you,” Quill was trying to explain from somewhere far away, “we can patch you up easy if you just stay still!” But all the raccoonoid’ heard was the sound of his own instincts to get away, to flee, that there would be pain if they touched him. He buckled against the restraints and only shook his head at Groot’s lame attempts to comfort. His fear was beyond comprehension now.
“We got to do something guys he’s not letting us,”
“I can help,” Quill stopped, Rocket snarled, head twisting to see Mantis.
“I can…I can help,” she mumbled, shuffling forward. The empath looked at Rocket with wide eyes, full of a pity that made him want to slice her antennae off. Terror coursed through him as Gamora loomed closer, trying to conceal the instruments to little effect.
Mantis wrung her hands nervously, trying to hold back tears even as Rocket clawed at the air. For as long as he’d known her the empath had wanted to pet him. To stroke his fur or brush his tail and ever since then he’d been declining her requests. “I can help you feel better,” she whispered, continuing to approach. Rocket squirmed, trying to wriggle out of Groot’s hold to little avail. His breath huffed in rush gasps, fight or flight, fight or flight, get away! You’ll be torn apart again, Halfworld…. the doctors…his stomach threatened to empty itself, and he pinched his eyes closed. Mantis extended a tentative hand, her large eyes pleading. “Please puppy, let me help.”
Rocket stole a deep breath, his feverish eyes searching her open heart. Everything within him hunched, tightening with horror. But that hand, a promise of calm. A promise of reprieve from the agony of his own past, at least for a few minutes. His claws scratched against the metal table, swiveling to look at her through narrow eyes.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he hissed, but nodded. Mantis reached out, her nimble fingers gracing through his fur.
“Is it working?” Someone whispered,
“Shhhh, he is conscious is hard to penetrate.” He breathed, fighting with himself to slow down, to close his eyes. Trust. That word lodged in his mind and his disheveled little heart. They won’t hurt you, they will not hurt you. Slowly, the veil of fright seemed to lift, his breath calmed, slowly as his mind filled with something white and serene. Her rhythmic fingers ran through his fur, each caress brining fourth an undulating wave of peacefulness. Rocket sighed, shoulders, neck then torso deflating slowly. He floated through the stars, the garish visions of scalpels and blood and gradually dissipating. Groot and Drax loosened their hold, while Gamora slowly approached his wound, Rocket lay serene, giving himself permission to be calm, to trust.
When they were done, Drax, Quill, Gamora and even Groot decided to give Rocket some space. Only Mantis remained, tenderly releasing her touch.
“Mantis,” Rocket mumbled as he came up from that sweet underwater place of tranquility.
“I’m sorry puppy,” she whispered, bringing her hand back to her side. “I’m sorry, I tried to…help…I…it’s all over and I’ll never touch you again I promise I…”
“Mantis,” he cut in. Easing himself up on his forearms. Her large eyes moved from the floor to him, she shrank as though preparing to be hit or punished in some way. The way he used to cower when the gloved hands reached out for him. Rocket’s stomach coiled with inexorable guilt. He pulled himself to his feet up on the table at her level and slowly reached out a paw to touch her arm.
“I an’t gonna hurt you Mantis. I just don’t want yah touching me unless I say so,” she winced but Rocket took her hand, moving it to rest between his ears. “Just don’t use your powers. There’s nothing good in there, bad enough without being sensitive and shit. Don’t want you to have to feel it,” his voice trailed off.
“Puppy?” She inquired nervously as if asking for permission. Rocket only gestured his head and let himself smile as she stroked his fur.
He gulped. “Thank you for…for what you did…I appreciated it.” She smiled, hands running through his fur and nodded at his words, she did not need her abilities to know the sincerity of his words. They sat in the med bay for a while after that, beside each other. Rocket allowed her to continue petting him, enjoying the quietness of it.
“Your tail is so fuzzy!” She exclaimed, giggling. Rocket did not protest, instead he allowed himself to smile, leaning into her touch.