The Scientist
The sun was hot over the Wakandan fields, prompting Rocket to unzip the top of his jumpsuit and tie the sleeves around his waist before tearing another panel out of the ruined pod's hull. It was tossed to the ground onto the growing pile of salvage for use later. He had managed to rig up a speaker system already, and simple metal box lay next to it, dozens of thumb drives—primitive, yes, but small enough to transport easily—stacked inside. Each one was labeled in neat handwriting (Gamora's, not his own); all of them containing a different playlist from Quill's collection of music. Rocket hummed along to the tunes as he worked, grateful for the solitude which this place granted him.
There was another box which was mostly unscathed from the rough landing at Niðavellir on the ground, separate from the salvage pile which was now taller than its maker. It was less of a box and more of a case, and this one had a different script on the translucent glass—messy, overly large and in poorly formed English—Rocket's own labelling. It was on this box that Doctor Bruce Banner would trip, carrying a bag of food and a bottle of water.
Rocket could smell him coming before he got there, of course, and ducked inside the pod to hastily pull his jumpsuit on fully before hearing the surprised yell and a crashing sound. He poked his head out of the pod as he slipped his arms through the suit, letting out a curse in Xandarian at what he saw.
The pile of salvage, which he had just begun to organise into individual components, was now scattered around, the bewildered looking Terran struggling to get up without stepping on any of it. The raccoon winced and suppressed a growl as the doctor failed completely, delicate wires and machinery bending, snapping, crunching as he stood, a sheepish look on his face.
"You know, you could'a just left it on the case, instead of literally crashing my party."
"Wh-what can I say, I like to make a big entrance." Banner tossed him the bag, which he deftly caught and sniffed at cautiously. "Don't worry, it's not poisonous. Wait, are you allergic to nuts?'
The raccoonoid's ear twitched imperceptibly as he tore the bag open and began to practically shovel the contents into his mouth. "…Only when you try to put bolts in there too."
"Was that a joke?"
"Maybe."
Bruce let out a quiet laugh as he made his way towards the alien, who had already finished with the bag and was zipping up his jumpsuit. Rocket hissed and cursed as the zipper snagged one of his collarbone stabilisers. "Must've gotten misaligned during the fight…"
The doctor looked at him curiously, handing him the bottle of water which the raccoonoid drank from greedily. "What was that?"
"…N-nothin', humie. Don't worry about it."
"I'm Bruce Banner, by the way. I'm a doctor of—"
Banner noticed how Rocket seemed to tense up at the word doctor, and stopped himself. "Only because I have several PhD's. On Earth it's a title given once you've studied enough in a certain field, not just to—to medical ones."
"Yeah. It's not that uncommon an occupation in the rest of the galaxy either. You're not…just a doctor, though, are you?"
The human tensed up as well, and Rocket smirked a little before continuing.
"Don't worry, humie. You ain't the first Gamma mutant I've run into over the years. I ain't gonna rat you out to no-one."
Banner took a deep breath, pushing down the unbidden thoughts of Secretary Ross coming for him again. Not that he would be able to now-both he and Betty hadn't been seen since "the Snap", as the media were starting to refer to what happened. Still, there may be others out there…including Blonsky…
"H-how did you know?"
Bruce stared as the raccoon reared his head back and laughed, so obviously fake and yet so interesting to watch, the way his claws deftly gripped the edge of the pod's exposed floors as his back arched in a way that most definitely was not raccoon-like at all.
"Come on, Banner. I could smell it before I even laid eyes on you. You were in the red and gold mechsuit, right? Why'd you even need it?"
The scientist looked away, standing and making his way towards the case that he had tripped over earlier. "…Me and the…the 'Other Guy' aren't exactly on good terms right now." He leaned over the case and looked at the handwritten label, taking a moment to decipher the script.
"EVA SUITS
USE AT EMERGENCYS ONLY
DO NOT MISPLACE"
The lid of the case was partially open, a few flat disks spilled out onto the ground. "Hey, Rocket? What are these for?"
For a few seconds, there was no response, no sound at all except for the gentle strumming of a guitar over the speaker. Banner looked over and saw the look of grief on the raccoonoid's face, how his ears drooped as "Father and Son" began to play and the doctor knew that this was probably not a good topic to press.
"Uh…they—those're for when we're out…out in a vacuum, or other low-pressure environments."
Rocket shuffled over to the speakers and muted the song, moving over to the case and putting the discs back in. If his snout looked a little wet, thankfully the human either didn't notice or was smart enough not to say anything about it. "We all used to keep a few on us, b-but I made more after…after there weren't enough for—for everyone. Put cases of 'em around the ship. One in the medbay. Under every bunk. Under each seat in the cockpit. A-at the airlock, and in the pod. Just in case...you know?"
His breath came in ragged gasps; he was trying not to break down in front of the scientist and—
"Thor, he…we found him in the wreck of a Sakaaran ship. He was still alive—he didn't need a suit…p-probably 'cause he's a 'god', or whatever. He told us what happened to his people, and…then I went with him to Niðavellir and we forged that axe o' his with some dwarf king. The others, they went to Knowhere to try to stop Thanos from gettin' the Reality Stone, but since he showed up here, I—they…"
Rocket drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his tail around them, his next words laced with anguish.
"I don't even kn-know if they're still—if they're still alive."
Banner had eased himself to the ground, furrowing his brows and looking at Rocket. The raccoonoid was crying, head buried into his arms as his shoulders shook with grief. After a brief moment of hesitation, the scientist raised a hand and placed it gently on Rocket's head, stroking the fur between his ears.
He knew from experience how alone the alien must have felt, as that sentence caused the reality of his situation to crash hard. The scientist found himself contemplating what Thor had told him what he knew of his time at Sakaar.
Once, the Hulk wanted nothing more but to flee the Earth, and kept Banner out for over two years. He was happier by himself, with nothing but the crowds and the thrill of battle—and none of the judgment, the hatred that he believed his homeworld had given him.
Now, Bruce felt as though he understood why the Hulk hadn't come out since he was sent to New York by Heimdall. Almost as if the Other Guy knew that he would never again see the only person to not fear him for what he was. He had lost Betty.
Rocket may have lost his entire team.
They both felt more alone than they ever had, and they mourned together as the sun set on the plains of Wakanda.