Chapter 4
Contrary to what one may assume, Drax the destroyer did not like seeing innocent people in pain. The only people he did enjoy seeing in pain were his victims and his victims were not innocent. So when he saw Groot whimpering in his pot, staring at his missing arm he shouted,
“Who has harmed smaller Groot? I will tear them limb from limb!”
“That would be Star-Freak!” Rocket yelled, frantically setting Groot’s pot down in their common area. The flora colossus still looked forlorn at the burnt edges of his shoulder but he had stopped crying.
“Is anyone else hurt?” Gamora asked, punching the button on the Milano which closed the hatch.
“N…no,” Peter huffed, looming over Groot. Drax shook his head. Rocket only waved a hand dismissively.
“We got the alkaline too then?” Peter pulled it from his pack.
“Good. I’ll set us on course to Nowhere.” Without another word she left them.
“Shit…is he okay?” Peter’s eyes looked over Groot with fervor.
“Apart from his missing arm he is fine.” Drax surveyed.
“Why did you attack me? Rocket I could’ve dropped him all together!”
“He was scared you dumb ass!” The enhanced raccoon did not turn from watering the little tree. “He’s always been a scardy cat and he didn’t like being hoisted down in there!”
“I did stuff like that all the time when I was little!” It burst forth from him before he could say.
“This was nothing! Do you know how many times Yondu put my life on the line?!” Peter watched Rocket’s lips pull back in a teeth bearing threat though he still didn’t turn around.
“I must’ve broken my arm a thousand times!” Memories of loud noises and shaking ground came back to him in a torrent of unease. “Groot came back after he was blown up! This is just his arm….now look I feel really bad about it Rocket, I really do but…” Yondu’s harsh bravado shouted in his mind.
“What the hell is wrong with you boy?!” Peter gritted his teeth and looked over the mammal’s shoulder. Groot seemed to be no worse for wear, his occasional moans made the human’s stomach go in knots but it could’ve been worse right? “You nearly got us all killed!” The blue alien had screeched when they were back on the ship. At thirteen years old, this was his seventeenth mission out in the field with Yondu’s crew and at least his hundredth time getting injured. Years later Peter could still remember the excruciating pain he felt. Looking at Groot’s sad little face brought it back.
“Yeah he can regenerate you dumb-ass!” Rocket whirled on him, though his gun stayed strapped to his back. “He can regenerate when he’s full grown but this has never happened to him before! I don’t know how long it will take him to grow his arm back, who knows if he even can!” The reddish-brown eyes narrowed in a contempt that Peter was momentarily immune to. The husky voice of the ravager berated against his skull.
“You damn idiot! How did you turn out so stupid?” He could see Yondu shake his head in dismay. “Knew I should’a let em’ eat you.”
“….my arm hurts…” his voice so small Peter himself could scarcely remember it. He could however remember the pain that came after when Yondu turned on him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He remembered the blue ravager ordering their surgeon to check him out and the haphazard sling. Kraglin coming and checking on him a few nights later when he was crying in the ship’s bay. Peter’s childhood began and ended with his mother, his adolescence thrown together by Yondu and his crew and whatever job they were on.
“Just…let me know if he needs anything,” Peter called over whatever threats Rocket was yelling. With a wave of his hand he turned his back and made his way to the pilot’s char.
“How’s Groot?” Gamora asked after some time. He sighed, already imagining the lecture she had in store.
“I think he’ll be okay after a few days.” He watched her nod and stare out into the galaxy ahead of them
“We need to be better,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?” He stole a look at her, frowning down in her lap as she expertly navigated the ship in the co-pilot seat.
“With Groot. You said it yourself he’s a child. We have a responsibility to him, to take care of him and to make sure he doesn’t end up like…” Peter huffed.
“What like me?”
“No.” She cut him off, glaring at him. “Like all of us.” Responsibility. One of his mother’s favorite words. He could almost smile at it. But like all of us? What was she getting at? Whatever it was, Gamora declined to elaborate.
“We’ll get the alkaline to the collector and then we see about getting Groot healed if he hasn’t regenerated already.”
“Of course.” Peter nodded, thrusting the ship forward. The sooner they got in and out of Nowhere the better in his mind. In the blackness of space Peter could see the ravager ship clearly in his mind. There’d only been one time during his own messed up childhood when Yondu had actually cared for his safety. After a failed robbery attempt in the Tristone Quadrent.
“Peter!? Stay still!” The tight coil around his head went tighter. The alien woman held him with an inexplicable strength. Yondu stood before him, frozen in place. Peter squirmed for the life of him but there was no other conceivable way of escaping. Sweat ran down his arms and legs, he tried to cough through the smoke but the suction of the tentacle that held him sucked all breath from his body. Peter could still recall that fear. The same fear he only now realized had been in Groot’s eyes. This…insert item here…is worth more than me? Why didn’t he recognize it sooner?
“I’ve become him….” He laughed.
“Who?” Gamora inquired. He tilted the Milano to the left, avoiding an asteroid.
“Yondu.” But if he had become like Yondu in his neglect and utter dumb-ass misguided parenting, (if you could even call it that,) …then maybe I can practice the good parts too…he recalled watching Yondu in his mind.
“Make one move and the boy gets it!” The fire-squid woman threatened. Peter’s wide eyes had found Yondu’s fear and for that split second, that terrifying moment he could see Yondu’s fear, his helplessness and something else he couldn’t quite place. He got out of it eventually, when Yondu had charged head first towards the monster, and had come out worse for wear because of it.
“It’s alright,” Yondu’s big warm, calloused hands carried him back to the ship. “Ain’t your fault boy,” that’s all he kept repeating. “It ain’t your fault.” He’d dropped Peter off, handing him to the crew and went straight to lay down. Peter shook his head, trying to dispel the memory.
“Yondu wasn’t all bad,” Gamora’s voice brought him back. “You’re here aren’t you? If he was really as bad as you make him out to be, you wouldn’t be here at all.” He shrugged, it was easiest not to think about it.
“Let’s just get to the Collector.” She nodded and thrust the ship forward.
“Do not trouble yourself small friend. Infants are stronger then they seem. One time my Kameria…”
“Shut up! I don’t care about your stupid kid!” Drax bristled. Rodent. He isn’t worth it. “Little Groot will be alright. Give him a few days.” He watched the strange squirrel creature rattle off a list of profanities while the small tree in question finally fall asleep. Kameria got into all sorts of trouble he recalled with bittersweet memory. There was the time she almost got her hand bitten off by a Razator, the time she fell off that ledge and other time she got roughed up by that other boy on the playground. He’d pulled her hair and she broke his jaw. He’d been so proud.
“I did it papa!”
“Good girl! You must never show mercy to those who wrong you.” He hugged her tight to him, her scent of wind blown hair and open fields, of dirt and a hint of sweat and sunshine.
“He pulled my hair really hard, see?” She pulled her blonde hair out of the way to reveal her scalp. Drax could still remember looking fine. Well…now that he thought of it there was bit of irritated redness. “So I had to punch him really hard just like you showed me!” Kameria made a fist, pudgy fingers curling inward. She stuck her thumb inside to protect it and jabbed outward, hitting his chest squarely.
“Ouch!” Drax recoiled, keeping her steady in his arms and watched her blue eyes go wide as orbs.
“Oh papa I’m sorry!” That did it, he deflated with laughter.
“I’m only kidding little bug!” The look of disappointment made him grin wider. “But I won’t be for long!” Her giggle in his memory was a choir of light. She wouldn’t be alive for long. Happiness mixed with sorrow and Drax sighed, breathe the pain out. It was something he learned after the first kill he made. When all the adrenaline drained out of him and he only had his grief left. He hoped every day that he gave Kameria a good childhood, but he would ever know for certain. He watched Groot sleep, the tiny stub of burnt bark at the end of his shoulder showed no sign of regrowth. He swallowed the stab of worry. The same flavor of anxiety he had whenever Kameria got hurt. Something about the feeling filled him with a small amount of…happiness? No, familiarity and a soundness in feeling such.
“How much longer till we reach Nowhere?” Rocket growled, sitting on a makeshift stool, he leaned over on the table looking over the small plant.
“I would guess three leaps at least.” The varmint sniffed irritated.
“Great.” Drax frowned,
“How is that grea…”
“Sarcasm.” He nodded, pretending as hard as he could that he understood. Rocket only glanced at Groot in his pot one last time before trudging off to work on some unknown project.
“You are leaving him unsupervised?” Drax could not believe the foolishness leaving an unattended child alone. An unattended hurting child.
“He ain’t a baby! He was scared but that don’t make him a child!” Drax frowned, how could the varmint be so confused. I thought he was at least an intelligent animal. Rocket didn’t elaborate, only cursing until he was out of sight. Groot’s good arm hung limply, head lolling. Drax felt the Milano glide soundlessly through the stars. Odd. Quill usually plays music. There was no music tonight. He glanced around and only then approached the plant.
“….I do not know why.” He sat, little Groot breathed deeply, eyes moving beneath his wooden lids. “You remind me of her.” He shook his head at the strangeness of it. Why? He mulled over it while sitting, waiting, watching. There was nothing he could do to help the little Groot, but he could at least sit to be there when he woke. He used to do the same when Kameria was first born and although this brought him no solace from his grief, it did seem to soothe his spirit. Drax the Destroyer needed little rest he would stay and watch the plant. He was not good at understanding the words of others. But he understood their actions and inactions. Groot slept and he observed. He was good at that.
“I got it Gams,” Peter said after awhile. “You can go sleep. It’ll be awhile before we reach Nowhere. Maybe check on Groot?” She was sure the plant was fine. She had to believe he was. I did nothing to protect him. Never have. She only nodded and made her way to her own quarters, spying Drax along the way. He sat diligently, his eyes now softly looking over the tiny tree. All seems well, in her room Gamoa slid the iron door shut. Wringing her hands she sat on the edge of her bunk, hands folded and head bent. We have to make sure he is not raised. We have a responsibility to him, to take care of him and to make sure he doesn’t end up like us. Like me. She sighed, ignoring the aching in her own metal implants, one of the more memorable pieces of her own childhood. Before Thanos she was sure there was something. She knew he killed her parents, she remembered that. She remembered their deaths and watching out the window of the ship as all she’d ever known until that point was destroyed. But for the life of her, she could not remember the intricacies of her upbringing before Thanos. No favorite food, no happy nights reading stories with her mother, or walks with her father. Even Quill had music at least. She had screams and silence in the rooms where Thanos trained her. No one deserves that upbringing. No one….not even Nebula. Gamora strode to her lifting weights. Ten, fifteen, twenty…thirty, fifty pounds. With a heave she lifted, her core burning as the hoisted the beam above her head. Her feet planted firmly into the floor. The aching pain vibrated through her, giving her a focus for her thoughts. She bent her arms, the pain changed slightly, then lifted again. Up and down went the warm strain of muscle and machine inside her. When fighting and keeping up her strength the two parts of her worked in tandem quite well. Whenever else, they were a contradiction, a dark reminder that Thanos’s power would always be inside her. No matter the ends to which she used it. It was there. Fifteen more times she lifted her weights, adding five lbs each time. Then she spared, then cleaned her weapons and buried herself deeper in distraction. Only when she was sure that no one else was up did she come to the common area and found herself smiling at the little flora colossus sleeping form.
“He’s still asleep?” Drax nodded, she moved to sit beside him and watched as he scoot over for her. Smiling she looked at Groot.
“Get some rest Drax, it’s been a long day.”
“This day is no longer then any other.” Gamora explained and he smiled sheepishly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s alright.” He stood,
“Thank you.” The rare frankness in his eyes made her grin. “…and thank you for assisting me today in our fight. You are a worthy companion in battle.”
“Thank you Drax.” He nodded, sparing a moment to gently caress the top of the sleeping Groot before leaving. In the stillness Gamora watched the baby tree.
“I’ll never let what happened to me, happen to you.” She vowed with as much seriousness as if she were vowing to a full grown companion. “Today I failed in that duty and you were hurt. I will not fail you…” the image of his spores, yellow and calm filled her eyes. The serenity as they fell, his deep resonating voice. “I will not fail you.” As if on cue Groot blinked his eyes awake. He looked up in her in confusion for a few moments, only to smile and reach for her hair. He tugged gently, producing a laugh from her. “You aren’t in pain any more are you?” He only tugged her hair again and made a squeak of joy. Little thing is going to make me go soft. She thought, not all too ashamed. They played until even the assassin’s eyes grew heavy and Groot again began to doze off, one miniature wooden hand grasping her finger. “And Rocket say’s you’re not a baby.”
These. Flarking, Compressor. Coils. Rocket tried again, just as he predicted the turbines on the Milano were getting all gummed up. The inner workings of the thrusters were also shabby. Cheapskate. He added it to the list of reasons he was gonna shoot Star-Mooch in the leg one of these days. Sighing the mammal continued his work at a frantic pace. Working with the motors kept him from thinking about how badly he’d already failed his promise to do a better job being Groot’s partner. He whirled the coil around and cut it short, trying to attach it to the main converter. He ain’t a kid. He’s still Groot. Still my Groot. Rocket’s mouth watered for alcohol, any drop of it, but they hadn’t landed anywhere in a while long enough for him to stock up. No one else was up, he knew that much from the lack of noise about the ship. Even Gamora who normally stayed up the latest was now asleep. Rocket worked, snipping, tucking, and manufacturing the thrusters on the Milano, improvising wherever he had to. Groot ain’t a baby…ain’t a child or anything else but small and he’s going to grow…Rocket didn’t know what a childhood was. He had a vague scent-based memory of something warm and musk smelling. He always assumed it was his mother. But beyond that single smell Rocket could only remember chemicals and iron and plastic. He never had a childhood, he had the process by which he was made into what he was now. Some little monster. He knew patronizing very well, he knew what it was to be delegitimized, infantilized. Reduced to a freak or a fluffy pet and Groot was none of these things. No matter how tiny and helpless he was for now. Rocket inspected the last of the turbines, making last minute tweaks and only after testing them did he go to the engine room. He spotted Groot along the way. In his pot, one limb missing. It made him recoil with guilt. He ain’t a kid….he’s just…growing. He’s still my Groot. Isn’t he?