Rocket stared at the paper that Peter had dramatically dropped to the ground, in his hasty exit.
He stared at the spot where Peter had been just a minute ago pressing his hands up against his ears.
Oooo-kaayyy…..?
What had happened?
The raccoon realized he was still standing in the hallway with his jaw hanging as though it was unscrewed (which could technically happen seeing as they were "modified components of his being").
So he snapped it shut.
Rubbing his ears, Rocket bent down, picked up the paper and slumped against the hallway wall trying to decipher what the hell was going on. The one time Groot was needed for thinking rather than a fight was the one time he was away.
Rocket closed his eyes. He knew he should be going after his friend but there was something worrying about treading uncommon ground with peter. Especially with such a happy-go-lucky kind of guy.
But then again, maybe Peter was playing a prank, trying to agitate him as usual.
Yeah, that's it.
So why did Rocket feel so tense then? Why did he feel so award?
Just find out you idiot, and get out of this stupid hospital while you're at it.
So rocket did just that.
When Rocket dropped off the list of names at the main desk he immediately left the bright, white building. The second He stepped out into the open, Rocket felt himself let out air he hadn't even realized he was holding.
Deciding that he'd find Peter on the way to the ship he set out. On the way Rocket noted how much better the city looked, with some of the rubble piled away (thanks to Drax, Gamora and Groot), and the half burnt down houses absent (Rocket had kindly blown them up). But he still found himself taking an isolated route, subconsciously nervous at being recognized as a Hero. But, He told himself it was because Peter would have taken that route.
When the raccoon reached the ship in the clearing, he immediately spotted Peter, "glorified" Red jacket and all slumped against the hull.
Okay he thought. Act normal, it was probably a prank. Quill doesn't do awkward heart to heart moments and neither do I.
So rolling his shoulder high, putting an easy grin (that hopefully didn't look like a grimace) Rocket walked over to Peter.
"There you are Ranger rick. Really, I need that desert at the Nova corps headquarters. They have a weekly special, come on!" Peter said grinning as he got up, and gesturing to the ship.
Thank god. Rocket thought, though rather confused at the fact if he should mention the assumed prank or not. Something was off.
He agreed offhandedly muttering about how anxious he was to see Groot as he went up, Peter climbing the ship ahead of him.
Once on, Peter looked away fidgeting with his ever present Walkman. "Uh yeah, I'll take controls, you just, uh do your thing." And he was gone
Ooohhhhh
So that's what was off. He was avoiding eye contact and not himself.
Something, some sort of memory trigger must have occurred at the hospital. Rocket felt a surge of pride for himself and his amazing ability to decipher human emotions.
I'm a genius, a damn genius.
But the excitement quickly faded away into awkwardness. He hated anything that had to do with dramatized emotion. Really he'd just leave it to Groot. But now Groot wasn't here and it just didn't feel right to not talk about what had happened in the Hospital. Because whatever had occurred was not a prank. Rocket wouldn't be able to look Quill in the eye if he left the terran to mentally torture himself.
Just talk to him and get this over with.
Grabbing a gun he'd been working on, Rocket went over and sat down in the Co-pilot chair beside Peter.
Oddly enough the human didn't even notice, just sat there, leaning back against the chair, arms folded across his chest, staring out into the black void of space. Lost in thought.
Rocket stared out the window as well, thinking of the hospital, and the ever so similar Halfworld. The torture he had gone through there. With the gleaming instruments. Mad scientists. His breath hitched and he was slipping from reality.
Trying, but couldn't, Rocket grabbed onto anything to ground him to the real world. His claws dug into the chair that oddly felt like an operation table. Out of nowhere a man appeared before him with a mask on, only hardened eyes and creased forehead visible. Eyes wide, blood shot it glared down at rocket for a good moment before turning around.
Good, Rocket thought I can get away.
But when he made to get up from the table, the skin of his front and back paws stretched against a cord.
A cord, tying him down.
He was helpless.
Oh, God.
The subject tried, but couldn't wiggle his paws out, skin being pulled more.
Without thinking Rocket let out a animalistic growl
"Let me out or you'll regret you lived!"
At this the scientist turned around a frown crinkling his face. He brandished several sharp metal instruments that stood out to Rocket against the sterile white walls.
He knew what was next.
The pain. The helplessness.
The begging.
Nononononono oh god please NO!
NO! "stop! Please! GET LOST! Go away! Go!" He screeched helplessly, his voice cracking as he twisted around, front arching in vain
His muscles trembled but it was useless.
Tears burned his eyes.
He was hyperventilating.
The world was blurring.
Through his blurred vision a figure stepped forward arms raised and Rocket did the best thing he could do. Claws extended, snarl contorting his features, Rocket slashed. It didn't even occur to him that he had wrenched himself free to slash at his captor.
Said captive had gracelessly fallen to the floor with a loud CRASH.
Suddenly Rocket's vision cleared and he realized he was on the Milano, on all fours in the Co-pilot chair. His lips were pulled back in an angry snarl.
Rocket blinked, started and looked on the floor in front of him where Peter was getting up one hand rubbing his Temple. He winced.
Woops.
Peter, on the other hand looked really guilty and…was that concern?
"Uh, Rocket? You-?"
"I'm fine Peter. Just a dream." With that the trembling racoon jumped off and turned to walk away.
Until Peter grabbed his shoulder with gentle firmness. Rocket stopped, staring at the entrance in front of him. Escape. If Peter would back off he could escape.
The humanoid swung around glaring viciously and raised his claws at his foe.
To his surprise Peter just grabbed Rocket by both shoulders with surprising gentleness.
That's when Rocket noticed the blood trickling down his temple from a three line scratch, and into his hairline.
Sickened Rocket allowed his arms to flop down staring at the injury. How was everything so messed up?
"Did-"Rocket swallowed and continued in a whisper, "Did I do that?"
Peter gently retracted his hands and shook his head. "No. No I- uh tripped and uh slammed my head on the control panel."
Yes, three times repeatedly. Rocket thought bitterly. Really, Peter was a terrible, rash liar.
"You okay?" The half terran asked concern reflecting his features.
Rocket nodded. A pause then Peter continued:
"C'mon, let's go the rec room. We'll talk there. Kay?" Rocket nodded.
He was mildly aware that Peter was using that same Gentle, soothing tone he had used on the ten year kid in the hospital. For some reason it was truly comforting and the Raccoon found himself climbing Peter's shouter, seeking more comfort.
The man started, surprised then walked into the rec room. Rocket climbed off and slumped against the sofa with a sigh. He was still shaking from the horrifying dream.
The silence indicated Peter was waiting.
"Just a dream! Okay Quill!" Really it was frustrating! Why was the man so insistent!? Was he planning to use this as blackmail in the future?
He glared at Peter who stared at floor pursing his lips. "Look Rocket, I can take a guess. You were upset about the hospital weren't you?" The terran's eyes bore into his.
One thing Rocket would give Terrans was the intensity of their gaze.
"What! No! I have no idea-"
"Rocket. Come on."
"Fine, Damn you." The raccoon sighed rubbing his ears and looking down. It was hard not to give into Peter's questioning. It was almost like falling into Groot's questioning. Almost.
"I- just, god, look the hospital triggered some memories about Halfworld. Alright? The hospital so similar." At this Rocket shuddered, but then blinked when a glass of water was placed on the center table in front of him. He'd heard about people giving their friends, their family a glass of water to help calm and comfort the other person. It was seen as act of kindness and comfort.
Rocket stared at it as thought the glass was a pile of units.
"I know what you mean." Peter interrupted his thoughts as though he had done nothing.
Suddenly Rocket remembered the real purpose why he had come into the cockpit earlier.
Grabbing the glass and sipping it Rocket narrowed his eyes, "Is that what happened at the hospital then Quill?"
Peter let out a small breath and stared ahead fidgeting. "Yeah. It was nothing."
Rocket slammed the glass down annoyed. "Don't give me that crap!"
"Okay!" Peter held his hands up a sad smile playing on his lips. He immediately deflated and looked down. "We were standing beside a room where a person just died. When I heard the heart monitor let out that Beep I just…remembered I guess. It sounded exactly the same when my mom died begging me on terra."
Rocket nodded, feeling awkward. "We're never going to the hospital that's for sure. Gamora and Drax can go there."
Peter smirked, his eyes looking clearer than they had since the trip to the hospital.
"yeah, yeah, and I'm gonna raid the whole Nova corps cafeteria."
Rocket responded by splashing the glass of water at Peter's face.
"OI! This means WAR!"
Half an hour later the two friends sat back down on the sofa, drenched from the craziest water fight in the history of water fights. Several plastic cups were thrown on the ground of the rec room. Gamora was going to flip. But those were details.
"Hey ranger rick?"
"Yes you git?"
The man rubbed the spot between Rockets ears, causing the humanoid to start. "Thanks buddy." And rocket knew that thanks sank much deeper that starting a water fight.
Before Rocket could even smile Peter was running into the washroom to dry up first.
Rocket snarled playfully and ran after promising the man he would pay.
