Swing Shift

"We have a problem," Gamora said heavily.

"I agree." Drax said. "The furred one must be sure his claws are not as sharp as they are now. It is dangerous."

Gamora rolled her eyes.

"No, we need to make peace between Peter and Rocket. We must keep this team together," she said, poking her finger onto the table for emphasis.

"We must let them fight. The victor can dictate terms." Drax smiled at the thought of combat.

"Not now. We have the cargo drop coming up. There are unanswered questions about this mission, and we need to work together. Go talk to Rocket. You were able to reach him after Groot died."

"Me? I do not know what to say. And the tree lives."

"Yes, you. Rocket has important skills that we need for our success, in spite of the fact that he can be difficult. He is more vital than Quill is willing to admit openly. You must persuade Rocket to work on the team. I will work on Peter."

"How will I do this?"

"You can start by talking to him."

"Words are not my strength," Drax said, but he turned and disappeared down the ladder to the cargo hold nonetheless.

Gamora watched him go, then climbed the gangway to the flight deck. Quietly, she slid the deck plate out of her way.


The cargo hold was low-ceilinged, and Drax had to bend over to fit. He found Rocket sitting on the cargo pallet across from Groot, holding a bloody cloth to his head. Rocket and Groot appeared to be having a conversation, but Drax couldn't be sure. Rocket took a swig from a flask with his free hand, and looked over at Drax.

"Drax the Intruder. Scram!"

"We must talk."

"No we musn't."

"I am not leaving until we resolve your issues with Quill."

"Well, then, we're gonna be here awhile. Drink?" Rocket tossed him the flask.

Drax snatched it out of the air, shrugged, had a sip. He grimaced.

"This is the fluid that goes inside batteries." He closed the flask and set it down out of Rocket's reach. "I must speak with you while you are clear-headed." Rocket started to protest, realized the futility of that, and checked the cloth instead. The bleeding had stopped. He picked up a bottle of water sitting next to Groot, poured some of it on the cloth, began cleaning the blood off his face. Drax moved across from Rocket and sat on the floor next to Groot, nearly filling the space from floor to ceiling. Rocket continued cleaning his face, looking at Drax in between strokes.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

"No. We must discuss your actions. They are not beneficial to your friends. We are a team, and we need you."

"I am Groot." (Told you so.)

"Fine," Rocket said, resigned. "Speak your piece then leave me alone."

Drax was going to say something about speaking words, not pieces, but let it go.

"You have important skills, many of which I do not understand, yet they are vital to our success."

"Right, and you all value them so much that…"

Drax cut him off.

"I know your anger is very powerful."

"My anger?" Rocket said, incredulous. "You don't know a frickin' thing about me and my anger."

"Perhaps not. I can only speak of what I see in your actions, and your anger consumes your very essence. I understand this. I held my anger about the death of my wife and daughter very close to my heart, and that blinded me for years. My resulting bad judgment nearly caused our deaths at Knowhere. I was only able to overcome that anger because of you, and Quill, and Gamora, and this tree. You believed in me, and you are my friends."

"Look, that's great, but you got no idea what my life was like," Rocket said, looking away in dismissal.

Drax waited until Rocket turned back to face him, and leaned forward until their noses almost touched. Rocket recoiled at this invasion of his personal space. Drax gave no ground, keeping close to Rocket.

"'Boo hoo hoo.'"

"What?"

"Yes. 'Boo hoo hoo, my life was hard, and now I can treat people who care about me with disrespect and derision,'" Drax said, in a good approximation of Rocket's voice. Rocket sat up straight, the hairs on his neck rising as his lips peeled back in a snarl. The wet cloth fell on the floor, forgotten.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to come down here and say that shit to me?" he snapped.

"I am your friend, Rocket, and if I were not, I would have removed your ears and eaten them because you attacked my friend Quill."

"I am Groot." (What he said.)

"But he grabbed…" Drax waved his hand for silence.

"I will finish. Peter Quill is a good man, and he deserves your respect. He needs you, but he is too proud to admit it. You know more about this ship than he does, and you complete his plans when he cannot fill the gaps. Yet you must control your anger, be patient, and accept your friends in the same way that they accept you."

Rocket looked at the big man. Drax wasn't the most articulate individual in the galaxy, but he'd cut right to the heart of the matter. Rocket had long believed that he and Groot were the only team that mattered, that no one else would accept them, or that they'd get double-crossed in the end. Being a perpetual hard-ass helped, in that people respected his marksmanship and apparent unpredictability if nothing else. But that respect was hollow, being based only on fear. This whole team thing was still unexpected and unexplored, but he felt better about it hearing that he was, indeed, valued.

"You make it sound easy, like, 'oooo…just let go of your anger'. Buddy, it ain't like that."

"I did not say anything about it being easy."

"I am Groot," added Groot with a smug expression. (Listen to the blue guy and stop being a jerk.)

Rocket took a breath, collecting his thoughts. He realized that he'd have to do some sharing, even though he was loathe to open up to anyone. He picked up the cloth he had been using, folded it neatly and set it beside him, playing for time. Finally, he met Drax's gaze again.

"Look, I hear what you're saying. Y'know, most things in the universe don't want to hear it from someone like me, for whatever reason. I been fightin' that forever, an' it's hard to let that go. I mean, you and me didn't exactly hit it off at the start, right?" He sighed, looking at the floor. "But I'll cut Quill some slack, if he'll do the same for me and not strand me in some backwater."

"I am gratified to hear your words."

"Sure. An' listen, just don't, y'know, grab me unexpected like, okay? Seriously."

Drax nodded, struggled to his feet in the low space. Bent over, he moved back to the ladder. He picked up Rocket's flask.

"I'm taking this liquid. It will be good for cleaning my blades." He climbed up to the mid-deck, leaving Rocket and Groot alone with the cargo.


Gamora slid the deck plate aside at the top of the ladder. Quill was sprawled across the left seat, legs over the armrest. He was bouncing a ball against the right side of the flight deck, catching it, throwing it back again. She climbed up the ladder and snatched the fuzzy yellow ball out of the air on the next pass. Peter finally acknowledged her presence.

"You, too? Great."

"Peter, you need to be reasonable."

"Be reasonable? Really? Like, 'hey, guys, it's all good if you wanna take ship apart without asking'? Or maybe, 'it's cool if you want to try and take my face off'? Right."

"No, be reasonable like trusting Rocket to take care of your ship. I've kept track of his work on the Milano. He's very good. And he's right, you'd see that if you paid more attention to what he was doing. He's doesn't bother you with the small things because he knows you're busy with other responsibilities."

"I dunno, G, he just…"

"He just what, Peter?"

"He just…has…really...small hands," Quill said sheepishly.

"Peter Quill! What is your problem with Rocket? That he knows more about your ship than you do? That he's good at tactical planning? That he looks like a Terran…?"

"Raccoon."

"Whatever. You need to consider his abilities. He has brought a lot of experience to this crew. He was willing to die in the fight against Ronan, as a part of your plan."

"I dunno, it feels like he's showing me up with all this fix-it crap."

"He is trying to take care of the ship," she said, settling into the right seat. "He gets impatient when you ignore him or don't listen to him."

"Yeah, well, he gets pissed off pretty quick, too. He's got this whole Rambo Full Metal Jacket Platoon thing going on, like the weirdest things set him off."

She shook her head, brushing off his odd Terran references.

"You did grab him after all. If you did that to me and I wasn't expecting it, you would no longer be able to count to ten using your fingers."

"Very funny. I kinda lost my patience with him was all."

Gamora shook her head.

"Peter, you don't have that luxury anymore. You're a leader now, not a Ravager."

"Well, what about his past? Anyway we can straighten that out? Fix him?"

"There are things from his past that he doesn't speak about that affect his temperament. I respect him enough as an individual not to press him if he's not ready to discuss it with us." She glanced away for a moment, then looked back at Quill. "If his past is anything like what I endured with Thanos, then it's a wonder he's civil at all."

"Look, that's all well and good, he's got the dark and mysterious past and all, but what do you expect me to do? I mean, I said he was out, how'm I gonna go back on that?"

"You'll have to compromise. Find some common ground. Didn't you ever negotiate in your previous career?"

"No, we took whatever we wanted. You know, like Ravagers?" he said, making quote signs with his fingers. "How much did you negotiate when you were on Team Thanos?"

"I didn't. I killed," she said with a meaningful glare. "We all have to learn new skills now, don't we, if we're going to stay together?"

"I just don't think…"

"Stop." Gamora cut him off. "Swallow some of your pride and find a way to work with Rocket. That's all you have to do. It's simple."

"Hell. What am I supposed to say to him?"

"I'm not solving your problems for you. I've offered my counsel. You're the leader of this team, so deal with it. Maybe you can start with something easy to talk about, like the weather on Xandar."

"The weather?"

Gamora stood and fixed Quill with a coy smile.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Star Lord. You have such a gift of gab." She started down the ladder.

"Can I at least have my ball back?"

"Of course," she said, whipping the ball back over her shoulder. It bounced off the windscreen and hit Quill in the side of the head, and he fell out of the pilot's chair trying to catch it. Gamora chuckled as she disappeared into the mid-deck.


Rocket emerged from the cargo hold after a few hours. Gamora was sitting with Drax while he devoured his lunch before going up to watch the ship. Rocket nodded at him, and Drax grunted in return.

"Ears?" Rocket asked.

"No. That is a delicacy reserved for battle feasts," Drax replied, straight-faced. Rocket was reasonably certain that Drax wasn't joking. He set Groot's pot on the table, and the sapling waved at Drax and Gamora. Rocket pulled a crate out of a storage compartment, opened it and began removing small cylinders with green lights on the ends. He lined them up on the table.

"Gotta check these things, make sure they're still good."

"I am Groot." (Drama queen, could've done that downstairs.)

Drax nodded as Quill came down from the flight deck. The tension in the common area went up a few clicks. Gamora and Drax stood at the same time, mumbled a few words of greeting to Quill and beat a retreat up the stairs to the flight deck.

"Subtle," Quill said to the climbing feet. "That's real...subtle."

Rocket watched Quill go to the galley and poke around. He began dissembling the first cylinder without looking at it, lining the parts up on the table. Quill turned around finally, looking at Rocket and the parts on the table. He couldn't avoid Rocket any longer.

"So, uh, I bet it's really warm in Nova City today," Quill began.

"What? Who cares, we won't be there again for another eight days." Rocket said. He noticed Quill looking at his display of parts on the table. "Don't worry, these're mine, not yours."

"Yeah, sure. Sooo…what are they?"

"Thermal detonators," Rocket said as he reassembled the first cylinder and moved on to the next one. "Don't worry, they won't go off."

"Uh, okay. Gotta ask, why are you taking them apart here on the dinner table?"

Rocket considered making a sharp retort, but remembered Drax's words. He paused for a moment, thinking of something to say. A solid technical answer seemed the safest course of action.

"Coz these things work by burnin' two different metal powders, and I gotta check 'em to be sure that the metals are still good an' the igniter'll work when ya need it to. It's safed when the green light on top is on. Use 'em to burn holes in things. Big holes."

"Like what?"

"You name it. Ships, buildings, anythin' really. They get nice an' hot," Rocket said with a toothy grin.

"So, you got other things that go boom on board?"

"Well, yeah, where d'ya think all our supplies come from?"

There was an uneasy silence. Rocket continued watching Quill and working on the detonators. Quill looked at the floor, the wall, anywhere but at Rocket. Rocket decided to wait him out, get the lay of the land. Finally, Quill met his gaze.

"Listen, man, about this morning…"

"Yeah, what about it?" Rocket stopped, holding a part in each hand, still staring at Quill.

"I've thought about it all day, and I want you to stay on the crew. We got a good team here, and I don't want to lose anyone. I feel responsible for all of you guys."

Rocket was secretly thrilled to hear this, but he felt the need to keep up appearances and not roll over right away. He carefully placed the detonator parts on the table and crossed his arms.

"Really."

"Yes, really. We gotta stick together now. It's not always gonna be easy all the time, since we're all a bunch of loners at heart, but there it is."

"Yeah, I get your point." Rocket uncrossed his arms, picked up a detonator part, turned it over and over in his hands.

"But I'm not kidding when I say I want you to tell me when you do some major fix on my ship, like on the engines or controls, alright? I'll trust you on the small stuff, y'know, like the galley. And weaponry."

"Fine. I'll tell you about big stuff. But I got one condition."

"Don't push your luck."

"This is easy. Don't ever grab my tail again. Ever. I got issues about that, no lie. Serious. Issues."

"OK, Francis, I won't grab your tail."

"Francis? Who the hell is Francis?"

"Never mind. It's a deal. And I shouldn't have done that this morning. My bad."

"I am Groot." (See?)

"Fine."

"And I want you to think about this cargo drop comin' up. It's got a weird vibe to it, and I don't wanna get caught with our asses hangin' out."

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Great."

"You always have to get the last word in?" Quill asked, heading towards the ladder.

Rocket gave him his best squinty-eyed badass look.

"Yep."

"I thought so," Quill said, halfway up to the flight deck.

Rocket waited for him to disappear.

"Always," he said quietly to Groot, and went back to work on the detonators.

"I am Groot." (Smart ass.)