Allot of people hated hospitals, for no reason at all. Perhaps it was because it was a place of death, a too mechanical and systematic and clean place.

Peter also hated hospitals. And how could he not? It was the last real location he was on Terra, where he had seen his family.

Where he had failed his mom. Left his grandfather.

Run.

But worst of all, where his mom had died. Her passing announced through a heartless Beeeeeeeeeeeeeepp of a heart monitor. He HATED that sound the most.

But hey, it wasn't like he went in hospitals allot, right? WRONG.

Of course, being damn guardians of the damn galaxy meant visits to hospitals, because hey, it wasn't the smoothest job in the world.

This time, though, Peter wasn't a patient in the hospital, and neither were his other friends.

As part of a mission assigned from the Nova Corps they just had to go. Previously they had been helping clean the planet of after an earth quake had hit. And it was pretty severe. Houses lay in pile of wood, stone, old furniture and even dead bodies. Fires had started out from ships, and gas stations. People were missing.

So the Nova Corps had asked them to help clean up

"Seriously we aint magicians who wave their goddamn wands and fix everything!" Rocket had growled.

"No we are beings who fix problems with dance offs and 12% of a plan, right mister 12%?" Gamora had smirked turning from the Pilot's chair.

"Hey, it still worked" Peter said waggling his eyebrows from his spot on the floor.

Drax then had looked up from his knife sharpening. "Are you proposing, friend Quill, that we clean up through a so called "DANCE OFF"? And may I inquire, against whom?"

Quill's brow had furrowed. "Uh, not what I meant buddy"

Gamora had sighed. "We are forgetting the real problem which-"

"-is we were invited to bloody clean up! We're known for blowing things up and their asking us to play nursemaid with the stupid planet!? THE HELL!? I aint picking up a broom and sweepin' and sparklin' the city streets!" Rocket practically howled while Gamora gave her trademark Assassin glare.

"So you suggestin' we make things worse by blowing things up? Wonderful! A trigger happy raccoon is entering an earthquake zone!" Quill threw his hands up in the air.

That had been enough to anger his team. Gamora had started yelling the need to "address the real problem", while Rocket growled curse at the Nova corps ("She doesn't have a clean-up squad so she calls up people who love blowing things up!?"), and Drax inquired about Peter's sarcasm. Peter looked at young Groot for guidance who grinned widely clearly enjoying the show.

But on top of that, the Nova Corps then requested at least two guardians to check up on the main hospital while the rest went to report to the Nova Corps and get their payment. No one on the team ever having good experiences with hospitals (pff as if anyone would admit that to their teammates), had resulted in yet another argument:

"I aint going. First sweepin' now this, nuh uh." Rocket had obviously started the argument.

Gamora looked uncertain for several seconds, biting the inside of her cheek as they leant against the Milano's side after they had finished hours of helping. She then looked at Drax who gave a resolute nod. She sighed and spoke:

"Actually we have decided to take initiative (Peter had snorted earning him a deadly glare), and point out Rocket and Peter are the worst candidates to go to Nova Corps as last time Rocket threatened to blow off half the planet as he was not pleased with our payment ("Not half….only a quarter" Rocket practically whined) and Peter forgot about the mission report as he had gone down to the Cafeteria and indulged in half of the desert there."

"OH MY GOD! That was one time. " Peter threw his arms up in exasperation then suddenly looked sheepish "and I indulged from three quarters of the desert there."

Rocket face palmed.

Drax nodded. "We have made the best point, d'you have a point against us?"

Silence.

Gamora grinned. "You two are going to the hospital then.

"Fine." Peter huffed. "And I'm eating all of the desert next time as a form of revenge."

While Drax shook his head fondly Rocket held a hand up. "We get the ship then, you guys can just take the Nova Corps ships there sendin' every hour for the victim's supplies. Got it.?"

Gamora and Drax nodded, while Groot practically crooned, waving at Rocket, like a kid would do to a parent before school. Once the three had walked away, Peter fist pumped. "Yes! We get my baby!"

Rocket rolled his eyes. He had forgotten he would be stuck with an idiot.

They headed towards the hospital bickering over the Milano, Peter's baby.

So here they were taking in account of the patients who were victims of the quake. His teammate was babbling non-stop, first over each and every name they were noting down "seriously Rocket, my man, what sort of mom names there kid: Pineapple?!" all the way to the colour of the bed sheets "I mean hypothetically speaking it could damage the eyes, that colour, they should have gone for a few tones darker, I want to tell them, should I tell them bud?"

While Rocket loudly complained and constantly told Peter to "just shut up before I tell you my opinion", he was silently grateful for the noise. It helped him take his mind off the slight resemblance some rooms in the building had to Halfworld.

Little did Rocket know, was that Peter was babbling non-stop to take his mind off his ever growing fear and nervousness. Even on the other end of the galaxy, far off from Terra, hospital rooms still looked the same! Some looked exactly like his mother's room. So, he talked more. He talked faster.

Sometime in between, Rocket had gone down a separate hall to take a faster account. When he had come back Peter was barely half way his list.

Go figure, Idiot

But Rocket didn't have the chance to be mad. As he found Peter in an injured ten years old boy's room. Peter's eyes were uncharacteristically soft, and voice, a different tone of cheerful, yet… soothing. So Rocket stood by the door way listening.

"So you're a guardian of the galaxy…as in Star-Lord!?" The kid squealed.

"Sure thing kiddo."

"It must be SO cool being a Hero! (At that Peter gave a sheepish sounding laugh)" The kid suddenly quieted. "I wish I could be one."

"Hey," Peter's voice drifted gently. "You told me you saved your sister, right?" A beat, then: "That makes you a guardian kiddo, a pretty darn good hero if you ask me. Maybe you can teach me!"

"Id love to!" Came the kid's proud reply. Then the two were talking of other things as they're listener zoned out.

Rocket raised an eyebrow. Honestly, he had expected Peter to brag his tittle.

He walked in just as Peter activated his mask causing the boy to clap and cheer.

"Hey Quill, hi there kiddo." Rocket smiled gruffly at the kid.

Peter deactivated his mask grinning like an idiot, eyes practically sparkling with happiness.

I'll shoot the idiot later. Rocket thought

The kid leaned over the bed as Peter suddenly chastened him and steadied him. "You're Rocket Raccoon." The kid breathed.

Rocket paused, feeling joy and fondness sweep over him at being recognized as a hero. He was god damned hero, a saviour and this kid LOOKED UP TO HIM!

He smiled. "That's me, nice job saving your sister, I heard." The kid practically beamed.

Rocket turned to Quill "We gotta go, c'mon Peter." Peter nodded grabbed his paper with the names and followed Rocket after waving eagerly to the kid.

Outside, Rocket glared at Quill and shook his head, trying, forcing, but couldn't be mad at his friend.

"Idiot" Rocket muttered.

"Annoying" Peter quipped back as they walked down the hall, Peter ticking another name off.

After 5 minutes, they stopped in the middle of the hallway, Peter nodded looking pleased. "Done buddy. That was the last name. Only three people missing. Not bad."

Rocket rolled his eyes, relieved. "Good, cuz my damn ears are bleedin' from your nonstop talkin'!"

Peter grinned evilly as they walked back towards the main desk. "I have a lot more where that came from! I mean look at these colours of the walls! There-"

Beeeeeeeeeeeppp

Peter stopped, Rocket bumping into him sputtering "What the hell Peter!"

But Peter didn't hear. He was staring at the room where the Beep had come from. He could hear family members sobbing over a recently lost loved one, and deep down he felt an undetached sorrow for them.

That sound echoed in his mind:

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

"Peter, take my hand…Please." Suddenly the dead alien on that bed in the room across was his mother, as she went limp, and Peter was eight years old.

Somewhere far away, Rocket's voice drifted "What the hell! This aint funny, yer in the middle of a hall, just standing!"

Beeeeeeeeeeeppp.

Peter was scared.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

His mother was dying, and he couldn't do anything. No one cared.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

Nothing cared.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

Not even the heart monitor.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

Heck, its job was to detect death. Or to Peter at least.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, his fisted hands pressing against his ears, as the paper of names fluttered down on an angry and now somewhat concerned Rocket.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

Somehow, Peter didn't run away. Maybe it was Rocket's yells in the dark hospital hallway, or Rocket pulling at his shoe laces, clawing at him, simply grounding him to reality.

So Peter didn't run. Not this time.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

Peter speed walked away, leaving a Confused Rocket with a crumpled paper in hand.