Chapter 1
“I’dhate to look into those eyes, and see an ounce of pain…as a child I'd hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by.
Oh, oh, oh. Sweet child o' mine.Oh, oh, oh sweet love of mine.”
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"We. Are.Groot." The words repeated themselves like waves, rolling over and over in Rocket's soul.
“Well fine,” Peter Quill growled, breaking Rocket from his thoughts, “since you don’t know when your best friend’s birthday is, I am picking it and I say that Groot’s birthday is tomorrow!” Rocket rolled his eyes and folded his arms, leaning back against the iron wall of the Milano’s common area.
“Once again you make no sense human,” across the table Drax frowned. “Groot is right here, how can he be born tomorrow?” It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes as he explained.
“On Terra we celebrate birthdays, like the day that you were born. My birthday is June 4th so on every June 4th I would celebrate.” The celebrations Peter referred to of course were of him whispering “happy birthday” to himself in his bunk, or stow away ship, or whatever dark corner Yondu had him crammed in at that particular moment over the years of his childhood.
“Quill we don’t know what days we were born.” Gamora put in.
“Yeah but remember a few months back when I asked you all about it and you told me, ‘it was warm out?’ I tried to guess and had Rocket do the calculations to try to figure out how we could have a terran calendar for holidays and stuff?” None of them looked like they remembered.
“Oh yeah,” Rocket mused, “I was supposed to do that wasn’t I?” He spit on the ground and shook his head.
“Dammnit dude! We probably already missed Easter and I really wanted a chocolate bunny!”
“What’s Easter?” Drax asked. Peter brushed it off,
“Doesn’t matter. Look, I am declaring Groot’s birthday tomorrow. We’ll stop on Dravia tonight, that will give us all time to look for presents and we’ll have a party.”
“It should have been yesterday,” Gamora started, “he opened his eyes yesterday.” Peter nodded, “fine, a belated birthday then. Rocket you really need to do the calculations for my calendar so we can find out what day it was yesterday. Holidays and birthdays are special, it gives us a chance to do some good ol’ fashioned team bonding.”
Rocket only shrugged, this was exactly the sort of the forced team bonding “celebrations,” he hated. How? How could they be talking about presents and sweets for Groot when he just opened his eyes the other day? When he had just been blown to pieces a few days before that? The image of it haunted Rocket every time he closed his eyes. Those big brown, soulful eyes looking at him. Looking into him, before everything was consumed by white light and Rocket felt his best friend shatter all around him. Groot had always been there. He’d been a towering presence, always at Rocket’s back whenever they were in a pinch. Rocket stood on his shoulders, he curled up with him to sleep, Groot was always there and large and looming. But now, now he was just so tiny. So…helpless. But he was here, and Rocket was over joyed, so why was that hole inside him still so deep and dark and full of longing, full of grief? But Groot was back now, wasn’t he? It shouldn’t matter. He was alive. For all their time together He filled that hole with alcohol, with mundane tinkering on every metal surface of the Milano he could find.
How did Star-Dork expect him to try and overlay his terran calendar to the Xandarian one when he could barely keep track of the days and nights? When he wasn’t working on reprogramming, upgrading, reinstalling or building, he drank until he either passed out, threw up or fell into a fitful sleep plagued by nightmares. When he wasn’t doing any of those things, he laboriously, meticulously hovered and watched over Groot.
“Alright troops, meeting over, you’re all dismissed.” Drax nodded and plodded down the Milano’s main corridor down to his quarters. Gamora too gave a small smile and made her way to the bay. Rocket moved to pluck Groot up from the table, he slept soundly upright, little arms gently swaying every now and then.
“Rocket wait, could I talk to you for a sec,” flaark, what is it now? Rocket cursed and set Groot down again.
“What do you want Star-Dork?” Peter smirked in the carefree way that made the cybernetic mammal want to scratch his face off.
“How much longer till we reach Dravia?”
“About three hours by humie time,” he answered shortly, his eyes never leaving Groot asleep in his pot.
“Listen Rocket…” Rocket knew that tone of voice. It was the lets-talk-about-feelings voice. “Are you okay, it’s been a rough couple of days for all of us…let alone you.” Rocket only glared,
“I’m fine Star-Dork! Just peachy! Save your sentimental crap for someone who needs it cause I sure as flark don’t!” It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, he put up his hands,
“Alright dude, whatever you say. I’m just sayin’ having your best friend get blown up and…”
"I said I’m fine Star-munch!” He snarled, tail flicking in disgust. Making his way to the cock-pit Rocket held Groot’s pot gently in his arms and carefully placed it on his lap, straining with the seat-belts to secure over the both of them. Two hours later he made the announcement to the ship:
“Hold on to your sorry asses, Dravia comin’ up in one leap.” Without waiting, he pushed the ship forward, thrusting through the galaxy at hyper speed, unconsciously pulling Groot’s pot closer to him as the hurdled forward.
“Rocket!!!” Gamora’s clenched-teeth disapproval echoed as they tumbled closer to Dravia’s atmosphere, eventually settling out and slowing down. Rocket’s red-brown eyes immediately making sure Groot was still in his place. The little Flora Colossus only continued to snooze and the enhanced raccoon spared a relieved breath.
“You reckless animal, you could have killed us all if we had not held on in time!” Drax accused, getting to his feet.
“Pshh, wusses.” Rocket shrugged and turned his attention forward. From the Milano’s large windows he could see Dravia come into sight, an orange film across an otherwise purple atmosphere. A planet of sand and fire and dust, as well a surprisingly bustling trade center for this quadrant of the galaxy.
“Who’s going to stay here with Groot?” Peer asked as the large ramp of Milano came down, landing with a soft thud on the sand. There were very little regulations for landing and launching in Dravia’s vast covered markets. Anywhere a ship could land was usually made into an in-prompt to landing dock. Gamora shook her head when Peter put the question to them and Rocket himself, normally making it a priority to stay within eye-site of the plant at all times, found himself needing a break. He needed ammo and supplies, he needed to find the diviest bar this side of the quadrant and drink himself under the table.
“I will stay with our small plant friend,” Drax said at last to which Quill smiled in appreciation.
“Sounds good, I’ll come back and relieve you in a bit that way you can get a chance to look around. Keep an eye out for gifts for Groot’s birthday!” Rocket dismissively waved his hand, walking down the ramp with his Collanian rifle at his side and two more revolvers at his hips. “…and guys?” He and Gamora turned, “try not to kill anyone this time. We’ll meet back here at dusk, sound good?” Rocket nodded without a sound and quickly made himself scarce in the labyrinthine markets. As always when he reached a new destination, he kept one eye out for anything resembling himself. Any augmented mammals, though he didn’t know what a mammal was. He did it subconsciously, hardly aware of it anymore. What he was keenly aware of however were the stares from humies and other aliens alike. One move for his guns however and they quickly turned the other way. But even that look of dread in their eyes no longer made his heart thrum with superiority like it used to.
Sharp smells of spices drifted through his nose, the sounds of bells and shop keeps hocking their wares sounded in his ears. Rocket drifted in and out of shops, taking whatever he needed. Too easy, he thought taking a roll of 19 caliber Torlac ammunition and slipping it into his left leg pocket. He exited the shop and turned down another street, easily dodging the legs of those who towered over him.
Gotta get a damn gift for Groot…he thought, pushing back the anxious thoughts of the little plant back on the ship. But what would he want? Rocket looked passed the different stalls as he walked. Small ornaments to hang from his branches and look at, preferably yellow or green, bottled soil from the forests of Havmouth, Flavian water, these things bought, not stolen. The honest way, that was half the present. Rocket knew that much from when they celebrated the day the two of them broke out of that laboratory asylum on Halfworld but that was what the old Groot liked. What about this tiny twig Groot? How much of him is actually there? Rocket contemplated not for the first time. It was too early to tell however, he reassured himself to stop from worrying about it. Maybe a new pot? I could get a yellow and green one, see if he still has his favorite colors. Yeah that could—
“Hey vermin watch where your going!” A hard boot hit him roughly in the chest and Rocket found himself pushed to the side. “Damn rodent,” the large horned alien cursed and continued rushing along.
“Hey! Who you callin’ rodent mister?!” Rocket bristled, reaching for his rifle. By the time he had it out the creature was lost in the crowed and those around him hardly glanced at the small mammal beneath them. He cursed, putting it away and shook his head. Another piece of kindling on the pyre of his rage. Like always, he fumed, storming off down another alley. Spying a plant shop he looked around, plant life of all kinds and all shades grew from various pots. Rocket ducked under a large pink colored leaf just as the shop woman glanced over her shoulder. He reemerged, looking at a stack of smallish shaped pots, each of them brightly colored. He shook his head,
Cheap plastic, no. Groot deserves better than that. Groot deserves better. He deserved better. Rocket left without a purchase. The dark clouds of hatred rising in him. “I called him an idiot,” he repeated the mantra over to himself. Rocket called him an idiot, he yelled at him whenever he didn’t go with the plan, when he misunderstood directions, Rocket snarled and hissed at him whenever Groot tried to touch him, give him a pat of affection. Groot deserved so much better than the asshole partner Rocket had been. The worst had been when they were still on Halfworld, Rocket’s mind fried from his latest “modification.” He lay in his cell, shaking and delirious when the blurry image of Groot’s hand reached through the bars. In them was a small round crown of flowers. All shades of pink interspersed with leaves, Rocket had growled even as Groot reached out to him farther.
“I am Groot!” Rocket had stood, strode across the space between them and snatched the floral crown. He tore it to pieces until all that was left were slivers of pink and green and brown.
The wide-eyed look of shock and hurt lacerated Rocket’s heart even now as he walked through the shops. He was hurt too, all carved up and burnt. How long did it take him to grow those flowers?
Rocket shook his head. Something caught his eye, a green and yellow windmill that he had seen humie kids playing with. Might give him something to play with in that pot of his. Rocket thought, approaching the stand with practiced swagger.
“Get outta here, no varmint in my shop!” The man looked down at him as he approached. Rocket’s ears flicked back the words cutting him.
“I jus’ wanna buy one of those windmill things and I’ll be going.” The shopkeep narrowed his single eye, scrutinizing the enhanced raccoon not dissimilar as to those scientists on Halfworld. Rocket should have been used to it by now, but still that look made him want to sink into the floor and never come back.
“There twelve units. Double for rodents.”
“You this much of an asshole to everyone or am I lucky?” Rocket snapped back. The alien creature’s frowned deepened.
“Twenty four units.” Rocket huffed, that was enough for two drinks! Three if he got that shitty watered down crap. For Groot. He picked up one of the windmills and threw the units down on the counter, walking away before the one-eyed alien could make another smart remark. It was almost dusk, and Rocket made just enough time to swing back to the plant shop and get one of those pots. He’s going to need a bigger one eventually anyway, he thought to himself heading back to the ship. The Milano was intact; no missing pieces, no armies attacking. Rocket strode inside, up the cargo bay to the main bridge, up to the main deck, down the hall around the corner and halted. Music played from the common area, Peter twisted and danced, in his small pot Baby Groot flailed his hands and swayed along, mouth open in a large smile.
“Ooo child things are gonna get easier, Ooo child things are gonna get brighter!”
Rocket watched them dance, watched Groot move as much as he could and wave his arms around. Frozen with indignation and bittersweet resolve for several minutes, he swallowed and made his way back down the hall, through the narrow corridors and down another flight of steps to the engine room. Amid the main fuse, engine, controls for gravity, oxygen and other essentials Rocket kicked through his own weapons, ammunition, armor, and other belongings. Pushing aside a half-finished blaster resting on a six pack of Yagger Lager, he reached under the bulkhead into one of the many nooks and crannies of the engine room, against the far wall, up and to the left, sliding on his belly to get his arm up there and pulled down a small tin box.
“I’ll do better,” he breathed staring at the two other sticks he had saved from the explosion. He didn’t dare not touch them. “This time I’ll do better, I promise.”
Even as he said the words doubt squirmed in his stomach. “I’ll do it right this time.” His voice cracked and he closed the box, glancing at the small torn bits of pink flower petals as he did so.