Chapter 9
Parenting Groot was something that came naturally to Drax, Peter, while he had to learn, came to it soon enough and even did a halfway decent job. Gamora tried in her own way, looking after him with equal measure of sternness and gentility. It did not come to Rocket at all. Many a times he would see Groot out of the corner of his eye, his large expectant gaze and would wander closer, one step at a time before someone, (usually Drax) would pick him up and escort him, protesting from the vicinity. After a long night of drinking, of staring at those inanimate twigs in his box, Rocket volleyed back and forth between trying to make the best of it, grieving for his best friend while raising this new version of him with the care and devotion he deserved and between letting that grief it consume him. His blindness, his will full ignorance, his cruelty to Groot when he had been alive, all of it. Nightmares continued to beset him even as he was awake and working. For the first time in his short life, Rocket did not fight them. He picked up the reactor in one hand and plugged it into the isolator, electricity vaulted through his hands, as he closed his eyes against the burning sting images of those odd people in the odd masks looked down upon him.
Sometimes they were people, sometimes they were just entities. Rocket shook his hand out, opening his eyes once more to the reality of the churning engine. He tried the plug in again, this time making sure to attach a new head to the wires first. Between blinks his thoughts sent him back to that laboratory where they strapped him down and cut into him. Rocket shook his head, focusing on making the connection into the isolator. It worked with a fizz and a whirr and he forced himself to smile at his work. But the ever-moving engine seemed to whisper to him.
“Rocket is ready for the procedure sir,” said a female voice. Gamora? Rocket’s mind wondered, even as he searched around through boxes and cases of machine parts. In his thoughts, he could hazily recognize her voice. Another scientist shook his head, knife in his hand.
“Not Rocket. Rocket isn’t even his real name.” The doctor smiled and while his eyes were examining the remints of an engine from a transport ship they had plundered, Rocket could see plain as day the scientist with the dirty blonde hair, Star-Stupid. “Subject 89P13.” The raccoon like creature dropped the tools in his hands, stomach falling to his feet. With that Peter brought the knife down and Rocket, who had nothing left in him if he didn’t have Groot, lay there in his own mind, ready and waiting. People talked about seeing a light when they died. Rocket hoped beyond all hope that if and when he saw that light, that it would be the small, yellow, glowing lights of Groot’s spores.
“Please,” he begged aloud as he worked. “Please, mercy. I know I’ve been rotten but…” He grabbed a wrench lying on the floor and attempted to pry the knob of the transport engine open. ”I just want to see Groot’s spores of light…that’s all I want…” he was denied. Cursing aloud as the knob snapped off and broke with all the force he’d wrenched upon it.
“I am Groot!” Rocket’s ears pricked up, for one hopeful second he turned. Expecting to see his fully-formed friend crouched over and smiling at him. On instinct he looked upward over his head,
“Oh,” he said dully. Groot only cocked his head confused. “It’s you.” Rocket said flatly, he shrugged, wiping the sweat from his fur and looked as little Groot stared up at him. Can he…can he see me?
“I am Groot?”
“What you lookin’ at me like that for?” He demanded through gritted teeth. Groot only blinked, slowly twirling the little leaf that had grown out of his now-healed arm.
“I am Groot,” the flora colossus pointed out. Rocket picked up the wrench he’d dropped, clutching it tight to direct his misguided aggressive impulse.
“I ain’t!” He snapped, “it’s just that you ain’t….you ain’t you anymore flark it!”
“I am Groot?” The little thing cocked his head curiously.
“Yo Rocket! You got that isolator fixed yet?” Star-b*tch shouted from the cock-pit.
“Of course I fixed it!”
“Good cuz’ wer’re gonna need it, we gotta couple of Gundarian rouges on our tail!” Flark it. Rocket started towards the cock-pit before Groot could follow him.
“A’right then I’m comin’.” He hollard back climbing up the latter. It only occurred to him after the exchange that this was these were the first non-hostile words he and Star-Ass had exchanged since their fight.
“They must have spotted you at the bar while you were busy,”
“Fighting for my life!” Peter interrupted Gamora when Rocket entered, closely followed by Groot who tried to reach his vines out towards the enhanced creature. Rocket’s tail flicked them away as he climbed up into the co-pilot seat.
“Well no matter what you were doing they followed us.” Peter opened his mouth for some smug retort but the pinging flash of bullets against the ship cut him off. They rolled to the left, only to see a Gunarian ship.
“Aww Flark, they’re R900’s” Rocket identified.
“What is what?” Peter asked, dodging another round of fire.
“Those ships Star-Dork,” Rocket began to pound out controls on his pad before the Milano bumped violently. Groot let out a pathetic yelp as the ship careened away from more fire. A twinge of sympathy rang deep in Rocket’s chest for the little flora colossus but he shoved it aside and quickly fired the Milano’s rear rapid-fire guns. One under each wing to perfectly target enemies from behind. Designed and installed by his own hands.
“Rocket fire!” Gamora ordered as Peter quickly swung the ship around an asteroid. Grade-A 95 caliber Esanzo bullets exploded around them.
“Yah don’t need to tell me twice!” Rocket reveled in the adrenaline rush that came from firing back some rounds of his own. No one called you a rodent when you could blast their head fifty jumps away off their shoulders. You didn’t seem as small when you had such big weapons. Rocket had learned long ago to substitute fear and terror for respect and acceptance. Until Groot, he let loose another round, watching through his comm consul as his bullets struck the two Gunarian ships behind them.
“This ship is slow,” Drax observed begrudgingly. As if in retort the Milano flipped, the lights flashed, then blinked off and Rocket bit his tongue as he felt them plummet several feet. Eyes flashing to his consul, Flark nuts, the Gunarian’s had managed to take out the end of the Milano’s right wing, and Rocket’s rear gun attached to it now spun through space firing the last of its rounds at random. The ship leaned to the right, Groot squeaked, trying to grow his vines out to latch on to the nearest grounded object. Drax caught him in one hand putting him protectively against his chest.
“Peter we have to land!” Gamora shouted, she’d caught herself against the far wall of the cock-pit. Light flashed off the Milano as the bullets hit the exterior like the pitter patter of rain.
“Where?!” Peter frantically steered the ship to the left trying to balance it out as he whirled the Milano around another asteroid. Rocket clenched his teeth, firing off the remaining rear gun. If Groot were his full size, he could take over while Rocket tried to rig up a second gun. Humoring the thought Rocket spared a glance over his shoulder to see Groot, eyes wildly darting back and forth with every bullet against the ship. He trembled, trying to grow his vines out to hold on. Drax evidently had let him go and was attempting to pull himself upright. Groot needs you, Rocket knew it but turned back to return fire. Peter thrusted the ship upward with remaining wing, over another large asteroid.
“Alert, alert, alert,” the alarm blared. Rocket’s heart hammered, ears flicked back and fur on end. Where was Groot?! He searched around for him, he needed to perch up on the big guy’s shoulders. Some primal need within him screamed at him to get up high, to be off the ground nestled away from danger. Panic and longing like waves crashed into each other through his stomach as he looked again at Groot. Only to see the small flora colossus petrified. No relief to be found there anymore the fangs of that fact bit into Rocket harder then he could imagine. Channeling the pain, he punched out more rounds on the rival ships. Letting the bangs over power his own inner screaming.
“Wvax is closest,” Gamora craned her neck over the chair she’d climbed to. “It’s only two jumps.” The ship shuttered, swinging to the side, slowly losing altitude while the Gunasian’s fired once more,
“Alert, altert, alert,” the cabin flashed with red light.
“Flark! Right engine’s hit!” Rocket growled. Groot yelped again as the glass cracked on the windows.
“Alert, alert, alert.” The urgent red light flashed.
“Hold on to something!” Peter called as they hurled through the first jump. The Milano swerved and swiveled with a stomach tilting jerk as it went through the jump. Groot screamed, sliding down the floor towards the stair-well. Gamora huffed, buckling her seat-belt once more and turned to frantically punched her own consul trying to see if the Gunarian ship had followed them. Drax held on to the overhead pipes of the ship, shouting at Peter who ignored him and was attempting to steet the Milano straight though it continued to glide downward.
“Groot you idiot! Flark it!” If Groot were grown he could be operating these controls right now! If Groot were grown, if he hadn’t…hadn’t sacrificed himself and died…then they wouldn’t even be in this situation. Groot got hurt on Trator because Rocket had not intervened soon enough, you said you’d do better, Groot said forever. After he had saved him, from those retrieval teams from Halfworld. When Rocket was just learning of the world outside his cage, sick and realizing that freedom was not as sweet as he had dreamed. Groot, in all his gentle sweetness had taken them all down as Rocket, unarmed, watched from his shoulders. How many pieces of bark had been lost? Groot had taken at least a hundred hits for Rocket in their partnership, one hundred too many. Rocket watched while his brand new….ally? took down the retrieval crew with nothing but his whipping vines and pointed thorns, grown out from him in place of leaves. When it was over, Rocket remembered how he’d been grazed by one of the laser rifles across the side. Groot’s worried eyes, he remembered Groot holding him tightly and growing a cocoon around the two of them like he had done on the Dark Aster.
“Second jump coming up!” Peter’s voice broke through Rocket’s thoughts. More artillery sounded an the Milano buckled banking lower, Groot screamed as they were hurled downward.
“Groot!”
“Alert, alert, alert,” the lights flashed and Rocket unfastened himself from the seat, diving for the little tree. There was a sickening drop and the enhanced creature wound his body around Groot, the same way he recalled Groot doing for him so long ago.
“I am Groot,” Rocket could still hear it now.
“Don’t be sorry, bud.” The first time Rocket called him that. “You…you saved my life…” he didn’t think his life was worth saving. What life did a weaponized experiment have? A scientific creation, a monstrosity. Groot grew green leaves over his wound and looked at Rocket, those small yellow spores glowing all around them. In this shelter, Rocket forgot the dark dirty alley way they had been fighting in.
With the second jump the Milano was in Wvax’s atmosphere only one more Gunarian ship followed them. With relief Rocket felt this Groot’s hands wind through his fur, clutching it.
“Rocket damn it where are you?! We need you up here shooting them!” Peter hollered over his shoulder. I’m right where I need to be, Rocket knew looking down at this Groot who’s eyes were squeezed shut. Rocket had been the one in fear when Groot held him on that backwater planet.
“What are we gonna do Groot?” He’d whispered, his own mind still living in the fog of what had been done to them. His side ached with pain despite Groot’s best efforts.
“I am Groot,” the flora colossus reassured, slowly pulling Rocket against his chest. The first time in his strange existence that Rocket did not resist touch, the first time he had felt affection in those wooden arms, so stable and secure. “I am Groot.” Rocket collapsed in that embrace, allowing himself to let tears of exhaustion run down his face. Now he watched little Groot try to burry himself in his fur as far as possible. The ship landed with a lurching crash.
“I got you bud,” Rocket whispered, a small fragile warmth budding in his heart for the first time since the day Groot had looked into Rocket’s broken damaged, blackened soul and spoke those three words, only this time beginning with “We.” It somehow healed him and shredded him apart simultaneously.
“There you are!” Gamora stormed down the stairs, “one of those ships followed us! If you had stayed at your station and shot them down like you were supposed to they wouldn’t have….” She stopped short, eyes widening while Rocket uncurled himself. Baby Groot stood up, shaking his little head, dried sap tears still staining his face. Gamora knelt, her face softening, “Groot, you okay?” The little tree like creature nodded.
“Did we lose them?” Drax asked, a crash from above was their answer as Rocket, Groot, Gamora and Drax rushed back up to the cock-pit watching the ship smash into the rocks of Wvax’s famous purple canyons.
“Guess not.” Peter finally sighed.
“I got you,” Rocket whispered once more, taking Groot up and putting him on his shoulders. He suppressed a smirk at the thought, oh how the tables have changed and it flarking sucks.
Luckily the right wing tip that had been shot off was a clean shot and Rocket was able to easily salvage parts from the Gunarian ship to fix the wing. With this much time to repair the wing and the engine, and the last of his booze already drunk several days ago, Rocket was forced to do the fixing, and inevitably mull over Baby Groot’s upbringing and old Groot’s death completely, utterly, miserably sober.
“I am Groot!” Groot waddled over to him on the second day.
Drax followed close behind him,
“Smaller Groot. Let Rocket finish fixing the ship.” Rocket shoved a metal panel on to the underside of the wing.
“S’alright,” he said without looking. “He can stay.” Drax nodded, walking off to join Quill making some Sleverat stew over the fire. “Hey Groot hand me that socket wrench,” Rocket said automatically. He moved on to the next panel and tilted it into place, “Groot! The wrench,” he looked down to see Groot staring blankly at the array of tools scattered about the ground. Crestfallen Rocket swallowed the reminder of his friend’s loss and his irritation at this new version of his friend. It’s not his fault….it’s mine. Or maybe as Star-Turd said, it was everyone’s fault. “That’ the wrench,” Rocket gestured with his tail since he couldn’t free his hands. Groot blinked and finally stood, picking up a hammer. “Flark it! No, the wrench look, I’m pointing at it.” Rocket momentarily shook his foot in the direction of the wrench. Groot nodded in earnest and came over, little hands gladly grasping at Rocket’s foot. “No!” Letting loose a string of profanities he put the panel down and walked over to the wrench. “This, this one is the wrench Groot.”
“I am Groot,” Rocket forced himself to smile.
“Good!” Here began, “re-teach-everything-Groot-had forgotten- lessons. Starting with Rocket’s tools, different parts of weapons and bombs. Once the engine was repaired and the they were able to take off once more, Rocket sat in the engine room with Groot.
“I am Groot,” Rocket looked up from his work.
“You want to know what?” Groot kicked his little feet from his place on a deactivated bomb.
“Everything? That’s gonna take a while idiot.” Rocket stopped, looking up at Groot, the significance of that word…. both insulting and yet it had long since turned into something more affectionate dawned on him. He laughed despite himself. Was it even possible? No matter what I tell him, it won’t ever be the same. Kurtuk it, navigating complex emotions was so much harder to do sober. It wasn’t fair.
“I am Groot,” the little tree suggested.
“Fair enough bud,” Rocket sighed and began with Groot’s beginning as Groot had told him once upon a time. In telling Groot, this Groot, the story of himself and eventually the two of them, Rocket found it easier the longer he continued to talk. He forced himself to discuss Halfworld and how they’d met. What would old Groot do? Rocket asked himself every time he hit a part of their story that was difficult. He sure as shark wouldn’t sugar coat it that’s what.
“I am Groot?” Rocket’s hands tinkered away as he talked.
“Yeah, experimentation. I’m not like you bud,” Rocket breathed. “I wasn’t grown from the vines of my elders. I don’t have no World Pod. I…I’m a monster…” Rocket whispered, the dull constant pang of his cybernetic enhancements grated against him and he felt wetness press against his eyes. He looked up, a thin wooden caress gently swept along his cheek wiping away the tear. Like the last thing Groot had done for him before they crashed. The memory only made more tears fall. Little Groot slowly climbed on Rocket’s knee, looking into him with an innocence Rocket never had. Slowly, Baby Groot spoke but Rocket could hear his old friend’s voice in the words sure as day. Could feel older Groot in that simple stroke of vine.
“You. Are. Groot.”