[7] Here's Lookin' at You, Kid
None of the Guardians were expecting a flash bomb to go off, but, hey, worse things could happen on a mission. Drax blinked his eyes a few times and the scrawny-but-fast thugs they'd been sent to take out had long fled.
He watched as Peter rubbed his eyes. No harm done. Or so he thought.
"Groooooot!" Groot yelled, pointing at the floor in front of him. Both Rocket and Gamora lay comatose. Rocket didn't have far to fall, so he was fine, but Gamora probably broke her nose. With the nanobots in her system temporarily disabled, she'd need a splint and cotton to stop the bloodflow.
"EMP," Peter cursed under his breath. "Groot, you know what to do. Drax, can you carry Gamora?" Peter hastily pulled emergency supplies from his knapsack and bandaged Gamora's face, while Groot picked up the small furball, holding him in a lock. Rocket's body typically woke up before his cybernetics did, and that meant a confused woodland creature who would want to get the heck out of wherever he was, biting and clawing if necessary, before his smarts decided to override his instincts.
The slimeballs, Peter thought, could always be caught another day. Right now, they needed to get their two cyborgs out of harm's way.
Rocket always woke up way too fast from an EMP (always being twice by Peter's count and sixteen by Groot's), they hadn't even made it back to the ship before they heard the high pitched screeches from Rocket's lips. Groot held on tighter as not-quite-yet-Rocket continued to whine and scramble, lazily scratching behind Rocket's ear as Rocket's instincts started to realize he was curled up in a tree. A sentient tree, sure, but Rocket's animal brain didn't distinguish. His breathing calmed, and he curled himself in a ball, going to sleep in Groot's limbs. Groot looked down at his small friend, safe in the knowledge that when he'd reawaken, he'd be a person again. Not that Groot particularly cared either way, a friend was a friend.
Peter unlocked the cargo door of the Milano, closer to the bunks than the main bay entrance, and walked with Drax and the knocked-out Gamora back to her cabin. "Hey, Groot, buddy, let me know when Rocket's back online, okay?" he said, quietly, as he disappeared down the hallway with Drax.
"Grooo…" Groot cooed, half at Peter and half at the sleeping ball of fur in his hands.
Groot sat down in a quiet corner of the cargo bay, continuing to stroke Rocket's head gently, checking for bruising and feeling Rocket purr through his very limbs.
"That's nice…" Rocket said lazily, only half awake. Good. He'd come back. "Peter, I guess they had EMP's or flare weapons if we have returned to the ship. I can hear the engine and smell the oil… did they overload my sensory processors?
"I am Groot," Groot replied gently. Groot knew how well Rocket could smell, see and hear compared to the humanoids. If the bomb had messed around with his senses, Rocket was likely going to need Gamora to do a reset. The two of them knew each other's basic systems well enough to do some maintenance on each other.
Rocket opened an eye. "That… was intriguing," he said. "I cannot understand it, but maybe I should keep my hearing set as they have? I heard undertones, Groot, I think I can learn your…" Rocket trailed off, and shot up, tail swishing. "Oh," he said, as if coming to a realization, looking up at Groot. "This is… inconvenient."
"Groo?"
"This is Gamora, Groot, not Rocket. And I suppose Rocket's mind is inhabiting my body as well," 'Rocket' replied.
Groot looked petrified, picking up the now-fluffy Gamora and holding her tightly in an embrace. Gamora felt something at the back of her now-feral brain telling her she needed to get out, and, without meaning to, began to squirm and thrash, letting out a bestial shriek. Groot let go.
"If those primal flee urges are a thing Rocket needs to contend with daily, I can understand why he is so wary of touch," Gamora said, matter-of-factly, trying out her new snout and wiggling her ears. "The amount of trust he places in you despite that fight-or-flight instinct is impressive."
Groot beamed, and Gamora attempted to stand up, only to topple head-first on the cold metal floor. She tried again, to no avail, and settled on walking on all fours. "I do not know how he does it," she remarked. Despite still having Rocket's voice, it was easy to tell it was Gamora. Groot stood up, looming even higher than usual over 'Rocket' due to Gamora's gait, and walked down the hallway, beckoning her to follow.
Gamora laughed, and it escaped her as a high pitched chitter. "So his normal laugh IS fake. Well, then, let's see if Rocket is faring better in my body than I am in his."
Drax carefully deposited Gamora's warm-but-still-comatose body into her bunk, laying a light quilt over. "I will go and steep some tea and prepare some food. Both will likely need something to regain their strength after they awaken," he said. Implicitly, he was also giving Peter some quiet time alone with his girlfriend. Well-sort of girlfriend. The two of them really didn't have a label for their relationship, despite everyone else on the ship knowing they were an item.
Peter brushed back the hair from her brow, noticing the green roots showing under the black hair. Peter didn't know why she dyed it, and would love to see her real hair color, a dark foresty color, peeking through, on her for a change. But it was her body, not his, and if that's how she liked it, so be it. He could hear the plate in her cheekbone start to move and adjust; she was coming back online. He peeled the splint from her nose so the nanobots could fix it the way it was supposed to be, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
Gamora awoke with a start. "What the frak, man?" her sultry voice exclaimed. With just the intonation and those four words, Peter guessed at exactly what had transpired.
"…Rocket?!"
"Yeah dumba…" Rocket replied. "Okay, w'happened to my voice?"
"Nothing happened to 'your' voice," Peter said, half amused and half disgusted that he'd kissed 'Rocket' on the cheek AND Gamora was still hot, even with Rocket as a temporary occupant. "I knew running around the universe long enough would get me involved in a body-swapping plot. It always happens- 2AM B-movies never lie. Thank whatever deities are watching that I didn't get switched with Groot."
"It's like I have cotton stuffed in my ears and nose," Rocket groaned, as he came to realize he was Gamora. "At least I still have decent eyesight."
"You DO have cotton stuck in your nose," Peter replied, now afraid of seeing Gamora-as-Rocket eye-to-eye when she and her probably fuzzy pelt eventually decided to face him. "Gamora broke her nose when she fell. Her nanos should have fixed it by now, so the gauze can come out, but I'm not tweezing it out for you."
Rocket lifted a free hand. "Goddam sausages," he mumbled, looking at the slender green fingers. "How am I supposed to get any work done with these?" He flexed his fingers, touching each to his thumb.
"I fix the ship just fine," Peter said, affronted. "And my hands are even bigger."
Rocket laughed, clapping his hand over his mouth before realizing he wasn't chittering, but laughing like a humanoid. "Wonder how Gamora's doin'. I'd bet money that she don't even know how to stand up."
As if on cue, a thunderous knock on the bulkhead door. "Groot, buddy, in here," Rocket called out.
Peter just pulled on the tufts of hair on his head. It would have been easier if he'd switched with someone. Anyone. He could be Drax. That would be okay.
Groot opened the door, and Rocket was right, Gamora was on all fours, nose twitching. "This is, for lack of better terminology, insane," Gamora said. "I can smell and hear everything on the ship. I can tell that Drax is in the galley, he is boiling water, and there are pastries in the heating unit. I can hear the undertones in Groot's speech! How do you make sense of all this?"
"The same way that you can walk around without needin' a tail for balance," Rocket said. "This is nuts," he added as he sat up in the bunk. "I'm as tall as Quill."
"Speaking of which, how do I stand up?" Gamora asked.
"Groot probably locked me in the down position so I didn't hurt myself," Rocket said, with Groot nodding. "Clench your back legs together and rock back until you're standin', then release. You'll feel your-my-whatever spine click into place. If you want to curl up, lock your knees together and you'll feel the mechanism come loose, then bend forward 'till you're on all fours and you feel another click. If you're good, you can do it in one motion to go from sittin' to standin'." Gamora shakily did as instructed, and wobbled unsteadily on what she saw as too-small feet. Peter looked at Gamora, struggling to stand, and a wave of emotion washed over him. She was adorable. And he was getting more and more uncomfortable as he watched the two of them be totally okay with this. If he woke as Rocket he'd probably think it was cool, he hadn't skittered through the ductwork of a spaceship since he was a little kid, and ladies in bars would probably lavish him with attention, but waking up as Gamora would be a nightmare on several levels.
After a few more tries of switching between stances (Gamora didn't even know that this part of Rocket was mechanical, he did it so fluidly), and a little bit of Rocket's flailing reminders to relax and let her tail take care of balance, she was pacing around the small room.
"Next, you're going to wanna learn to climb proper-like. Nothing is ever gonna be the right height," Rocket said, after he seemed satisfied, swinging his (her?) legs over the side of the bunk and attempting to stand himself. "Whoa, this is not easy."
"Take off my heels, Rocket. There are some flats in the closet." Rocket fumbled with the zippers on Gamora's boots, and scooted and reached out to her wardrobe.
"I can reach everything, this is a head trip," Rocket said, bewildered. He found a pair of shoes without heels and slid them on. "Hate shoes, but this is just a rental, right?" he asked aloud at nobody in particular as he pointed to himself.
"I think so, it should be easy enough to fix," Gamora said thoughtfully. "I keep nightly backups of my data banks, so I just need to reload from yesterday. I won't remember this but I'm sure Peter will hold it over my head." She grinned, bearing Rocket's canines. "Whatever those goons threw was probably a data scrambler; we haven't, as Peter so loudly proclaimed before I got in here, switched bodies because I have your instincts and I can't remember my childhood, just an adult reminder I planted in my virtual memory that I had a time before Thanos. Something tells me if you swim in my subconscious you'll resurface memories of mine from before I became Thanos's blade, and won't be able to remember who you were before your modifications as well." Gamora turned backwards and addressed Groot, still standing in the doorway. "Groot, hug him. Tightly."
Rocket braced himself to swallow his normal instinct to run as Groot wrapped his arms around him. But the irrational feeling of dread never hit. It was only the feeling of soft comfort, without any of the flight response buried underneath. It was… really nice actually. Warm. Rocket wriggled his arms free and hugged Groot back, to both their surprise. "You're… right," he finally admitted.
"So," Peter said mulling, "everything stored on Rocket's hard drives is being read by Gamora's machinery and vice versa? Do we do a data transfer and everyone's good again?"
Gamora shook her head. "A data transfer is a bad idea. We will both get everything mixed together, I will get all of what is in here, " she said pointing a clawed finger at herself, "including Rocket's instincts, and Rocket's going to get my suffering at the hands of Thanos before he installed the drive. No. We both just restore our backups and everything's fine. If I had one of those bombs they tossed we could be back to ourselves as fast as the original switch took place, but, without, it will take me about ten hours to do a full restore, we will both have to be unconscious. Anyway, Rocket's body is screaming of hunger, so let me eat something and then I'll set us both up for repairs."
"No wonder you are so calm about this," Peter replied, after a beat of silence.
"It's happened to me once before. But now I know who we are dealing with as adversaries, as they are likely the same organization," Gamora replied. "Last time it was myself and Nebula, though, so the difference was not so great," she said, spreading her furry arms wide.
"G'mora," Rocket finally squeaked out. "I… I don't have a backup. I thought my hard drive WAS my backup. For my brain." Gamora, Groot, and Peter looked on in horror.
"How long ago was it installed?" Gamora asked.
"I am Groot." Rocket's face went sour.
"I can't hear you anymore, big guy," Rocket said, solemnly. "But I'm guessing he told you about six or seven years ago. I'm about eight years old."
"It takes me about five minutes per day for a backup, and I'll set you up with one. Mathematically that's…"
"About eight to ten days straight," Rocket finished, mentally calculating at a blinding speed. "That's still pretty good for… how many petabytes of data?"
"Better than not being able to switch at all," Peter replied. "And the rest of us can go track those asshats down in the meantime for the quicker route. We can bring you food, Rocket, or does he have to be unconscious for the whole thing?"
"No, no, we'll both only need to be unconscious for the restore," Gamora said. "I have a wireless setup for backing up. Rocket just couldn't stray too far from the ship- or, if he does, it will just pause and resume when he returns within range." He can do whatever he wants while it copies," Gamora paused, holding up a finger, "Within reason."
"That's… not terrible," Rocket finally said. "I get to be you for a week and watch Peter squirm. You'd better not do anything to my fuzzy rear end, got it, Quill?"
"Noted," Peter said. The week wouldn't be so bad for Rocket or Gamora, it seemed, but it was not going to be fun for him.
DAY 0 (3.8% complete):
The rest of Day Zero (as the team now called it) was pretty low key. Groot helped Rocket walk through the hallways in his now too-tall legs, and Gamora scampered between walking on twos and fours just so she could practice the switch. Drax, once he was assured that their problem was reversible, laughed, clapping a hand on each of them, and reminded Gamora sternly that she was not to have any caffeine or chocolate.
Gamora set up the data backups for Rocket after they had eaten (Rocket noting he felt full after less than one pastry, and saw Gamora look uncomfortable asking for thirds. She'd have to get used to his appetite) and both went back to their respective bunks. Rocket realized he wouldn't fit in his bed and sleeping curled up in Groot's arms was unfair to both Gamora and his now less flexible humanoid back. He doubled back to Gamora's room and the two of them shared her bunk for the night.
DAY 1 (14.7% complete):
A soft knock awoke both of them the following morning. "Breakfast," Drax said from beyond the bulkhead.
"Rocket," Gamora said drowsily, "Take my vitamins and get dressed. Or, better yet, shower. You reek of sweat and dried blood."
"I have to shower?" Rocket replied. "Like every day?"
"Yes," Gamora replied. "And I will go in when you're finished."
"Don't," Rocket said, swinging his legs around to get up. He still had vertigo, being as tall as he was, and he laughed internally at the thought that by the time he got used to being Gamora he'd be back in his own form (which he surprisingly missed, at least for his hands and understanding Groot). He could do without the instinct-laden paranoia, but seven years of being sentient atop a wild carnivore gave him enough time to deal with his brain's quirks. Gamora, on the other hand, was going to have to get used to being an animal…
"Only get my implants wet if you absolutely have to, and grease 'em when done if you do. They'll corrode, and infect my skin. I don't wanna deal with cybernetics rash when I get my body back. Spare me the shower and just groom yourself."
Rocket was already wobbling out of the room when Gamora peeked her fuzzy head from out of the blankets. "How am I even supposed to do that?"
The same thought echoed in Rocket's head as he fully undressed himself the first time. Limbs everywhere, parts he didn't understand. He turned the shower head on to the temperature he liked on the rare occasion he did shower, and found it to be freezing as Gamora. Stupid hairless body.
The rest of the shower went without incident, he found the conditioner he used as himself still worked on Gamora's long hair. He wrapped in a towel and trudged back to Gamora's bunk, throwing her clothing in the chute along the way. He'd probably need instruction on how to wear some of Gamora's clothing, and it was her body anyway.
Gamora was propped up on the bed, still trying to figure out how to unhook Rocket's jumpsuit.
"I thought I had it bad, greenie," Rocket said as he shut the door behind him. I know it's a G suit and it ain't supposed to come off easy, but seriously?"
"Help would be more useful to me than snark, Rocket."
"Lick your hand."
"What?"
"I have tiny sensory organs in my fingertips, like my whiskers. They work better if they're wet. Then run your hand along the side of the buckles. You'll feel a notch. Twist your nail in it like a screwdriver and it will pop apart."
Gamora complied and the suit split apart along a tightly hidden seam. She rolled it off. "Now what?"
"You said you have my instincts. Let 'em guide you."
That was reassuring, Gamora thought, but somehow she realized the tip of her tail was between her teeth and she was methodically combing through the fur. She let her mind wander, almost to the point of meditation, as her body went through the motions. Rocket, meanwhile, attempted to dress himself, which mostly meant dragging on clothes while he leaned against something solid for extra support.
"Not terrible," Gamora remarked when he finished. "Except your hair."
"I'll say the same, greenie. You still got bedhead. Let me get you my brush and some clothes."
Rocket trudged out of Gamora's room, straight into Peter, who let out a bit of a yelp. Peter looked Rocket over once, cried out "Still unfair, man," and danced down towards the galley.
Rocket returned with the brush and loose clothing, a tank top and drawstring shorts.
"I didn't even know you owned anything other than jumpsuits," Gamora ribbed.
"Wear when I sleep," Rocket replied halfheartedly, as he sat down on the bunk. It lowered some from his weight. Things never did that. "Pro'lly easier for you."
Gamora pulled on the shirt and pants, and Rocket took her muzzle in his hand, combing out the tangles on her face with a wire pet brush. Not that he would admit Groot bought it from a pet store, but it worked much better than stuff intended for hair like Gamora's. She flinched.
"Half my brain is telling me this is nice, the other half wants to run," she admitted.
"That's cause someone way bigger than you is brushin'. You're gonna have to tolerate it, you can't clean your own face with your teeth."
"Can I have someone else do this? I'm still uncomfortable seeing my own face when I look up," she admitted, softly.
"Jus… just put some pants on first, yeah," Rocket held out the brush. "If you and Pete want some alone time that's fine. Just no funny stuff."
"I think he's far too… uncomfortable… for that to come up."
"If we couldn't change back… you think he won't love you?" Rocket asked as he stood up, searching for Gamora's own brush.
"No, that's not the problem. I'm quite good at reading others. He's worried about hurting or insulting you. And we will be fine. I've had this happen before, remember?"
"Weirder things have happened to me, Gamora. I mean, I became a friggin' person! I'm not worried about Peter, I'm worried about hurtin' or insultin' Groot. If he wants to pick you up, and you're okay with it, can you let him? He's lost the only person on the ship he can talk to."
"If he wants to pick YOU up," Gamora replied, as she trotted out of the room towards the galley, pointing at Rocket with his brush," he can. He's all of our comrades-in-arms, but he's your friend first and foremost."
"Not right now he ain't, Rocket whispered under his breath when Gamora had gone far enough away that he knew she wouldn't hear.
DAY 2 (25.4% complete):
Rocket tried coffee for the first time. He'd already realized that things tasted different as Gamora, sweets were less sweet and bitter was much stronger. And boy, was the dark liquid bitter. He spit it out in the sink and was kind of grateful caffeine normally made him sick.
Chocolate, on the other hand, was a welcome treat, something he'd tried once and regretted later in his own body years ago. Gamora huffed as he greedily shoved a piece in his mouth without consequence.
"Savor it, little man," Peter joked.
He did.
DAY 3 (36.3% complete):
Gamora had been right about Groot- Groot didn't care that Rocket wasn't small or soft, or that he couldn't understand him. He was still cooing over Rocket as he'd done before, but now was brushing out his long hair and braiding flowers into it.
Peter, too, when he'd been given the okay to be with Gamora, had lightened up considerably. Gamora was still flinching under touch, but now it was mostly limited to her tail twitching wildly. She could hide in places no-one else on the ship could reach if she didn't want the attention, so Peter recognized that she was doing her best to keep down Rocket's instincts to keep Peter company.
Peter couldn't stop petting her. It was a massive stress relief. Since she couldn't work on the mechanics of the ship like Rocket, and couldn't really fight or practice, any moment not spent practicing climbing and skittering around the vessel or doing the few chores Rocket needed her to do, was spent in Peter's lap as he combed through her fur.
Gamora was half asleep on Peter that night, when Rocket came up to the pair with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He was going to use this opportunity of consequence free eating (especially considering he was only eating one or two meals a day instead of four on Gamora's nonexistent appetite) as much as he could without completely disrupting Gamora's diet.
Peter was gently rubbing circles on Gamora's forehead, and Rocket bent over (bent! over!) to be at her eye level. "Better with seeing me yet?" he asked.
"The initial shock's worn off," she replied lazily as she swished her tail, smacking Peter in the face. She winked at Rocket; it had been on purpose.
Rocket reached out his hand. "Can I? I always wanted to know why everyone feels like they need to pet me."
"Sure," she said, as she hopped off Peter's lap and onto Rocket's. Peter looked sourly at the pair on the floor next to his seat.
"I'll give her back, just gimmie a minute," Rocket protested. Gamora stuck out her tiny pink tongue.
Rocket started scratching in the spots he knew he liked Groot touching, behind his (temporarily her) left ear, and gently under his chin. He felt a low rumble, and realized Gamora was purring, and not trying to hide it at all. He felt the warm bundle in his arms, leaning into him, the rumble of contentment, and the soft fur between his hairless fingers. Rocket was strangely at ease.
Great, he thought, now I'm going to have to play nice once in a while and be everyone else's' stress ball. As long as they stayed on the ship, he had a reputation out there.
DAY 4 (58.1% complete):
Drax, Peter and Gamora had taken to talks with Nova on leads of where their marks had gone, Gamora staying as silent as possible or answering in curt, slurred sentences in her best approximation of Rocket so that Nova didn't know something was wrong. Rocket's backup would be more than half done by day's end, but it was the principle of the matter and Gamora wanted to put her fangs through one of their legs while she still had them, just to try. She was practically putting her fangs through everything else on the ship.
Rocket didn't realize just how much he ate until he wasn't eating so much anymore.
DAY 5 (69.0% complete):
Every morning, the two of them would wake and help each other, Gamora was now okay with Rocket in her own body combing out her fur, and Gamora would braid back Rocket's hair to keep it from whipping him in the face. This morning, she looked sourly at it while holding strands in her paws.
"I need to dye my hair."
I'll say, you let it go pretty far. At this point, why not wait and just make it pink again yourself?"
"No, those are frosted tips."
"You lost me."
"The ends are dyed a different color on purpose," she huffed. She huffed a lot more in Rocket's body than in her own, as if to assert herself despite her small size. "I'm talking about the roots. My green is showing through."
"So?"
"Thanos had me dye my hair so I didn't look like…" She froze. "Forget it," she said, baring Rocket's wicked canines. "I'm letting it grow out."
She grabbed a knife from her weapons storage, holding it in both hands like a sword. "Don't move," she chided to Rocket, as she cleanly sliced off the pink portion. "When my roots get long enough, the black is going as well."
DAY 6 (79.9% complete):
Gamora had freaking flashcards, Rocket discovered.
As Gamora had demanded Rocket at least attempt to keep some form of exercise routine while he occupied her space, Rocket had demanded she keep up some of his duties as well, including cleaning the ductwork and other places the rest of the team could not reach, especially the sensitive equipment that could be affected by dust or loose wire.
Gamora had also taken duties to mean 'talking to Groot'. She was trying to learn, and from the looks of the two of them, actually managing.
He caught her that night at the console screen, trying to figure out how to overclock her hearing implants to hear in Rocket's range when she was back in her own body. He knew she could smell him behind her, but did not acknowledge him. He scribbled a few notes, and returned to Gamora's bed.
When he had his own hands back, and a few spare parts, he could make the modifications. Groot wouldn't need to be quite so alone anymore.
DAY 7 (90.8% complete):
The team had actually landed on a planet today, still without leads, but in need of fuel and supplies. Gamora clamored up on Groot's back, not because she didn't want to be with Peter, but because her nails were sharp and would probably ruin Peter's favorite jacket.
"Do you want to come, Rocket?" Peter asked. "If it's only an hour or two you should still be done by midnight tomorrow."
"I could use a drink."
"I do not become inebriated," Gamora replied. "Too much of a weakness."
"Where's the fun in that?" Rocket mocked. "Eh, whatever. I have some shopping I need to do, anyway. I think I can manage alone."
"No, you should stay with me," Peter replied. "Or Drax, your choice."
"Rocket, I am not going to mince words. You are beautiful, and some people will harass and proposition you for it. Since you do not know how to respond, stay with someone." Gamora said, arms crossed and gripping Groot's shoulder with her hind legs.
"I'll just kick their heads in."
"That's the problem. They're just people run by their hormones, not bounties. I'm not saying this because you're a woman and unable to protect yourself, I am saying this because I don't want you arrested."
Rocket snorted, but complied. He picked Drax, though. Peter would ask too many questions about the cybernetic parts he was buying.
DAY 8 (100% complete):
It was close to midnight between Day 9 and Day 9 when the alarm Gamora had set went off.
It was done.
Gamora and Rocket rushed to the console, both at ease in their respective strides. "Two hours to clean the cache, and then it's good night for you both," Peter said, as he read the output, panting behind them, unable to keep up.
"I'll back up my past week, then," Gamora said. "It should only be an hour, tops, including the cache."
"Groot, buddy, in twelve hours you'd better tell me everything that's on your mind," Rocket chided.
"I am Groot," Groot said, nodding.
"He says of course," Gamora translated excitedly.
"It will be good to see everyone back as they should be," Drax replied. "But Rocket, would you like some more chocolate before you cannot indulge?"
"I'll pass," Rocket replied. "I'm more excited to get my appetite back."
"Thank Odin-on-high you both don't eat like that," Peter said, shaking his head.
The five of them curled up in the cockpit, watching whatever they could catch from the satellites on the holoscreen, Rocket sitting on Groot's lap, and Peter making his final use of scratching Gamora behind the ears. Drax made tea and prepared a sleeping medication and anesthetic so that Rocket wouldn't thrash or flee in the ten hours he had no higher mind, spooning several heaping mouthfuls to Gamora. In fifteen minutes, the small fuzzy body lay limp in Peter's arms.
"He's all yours, Groot," Peter said quietly. He, Rocket noted, recognizing that that would be him in just a few short hours. Groot took Rocket's body and held both Rocket-body and Rocket-mind tightly to his chest.
"Give me some too," Rocket said. "I don't wanna be awake when my mind is scrubbed clean. In as greenie and out as a furball."
"I'll prepare a stronger dosage," Drax stated. "Just give me a few minutes."
Groot, Rocket, and Peter sat in silence, while Drax went downstairs to furnish more supplies.
"You did good, Pete," Rocket finally said.
"I didn't do anything," he protested.
"Gamora didn't even want to look at me at first. Seeing her face back at her scared her. I guess the last time that happened, it was because she was Nebula."
Silence.
"Thanks, Rocket. For taking good care of her."
"You'd better take good care of Gamora or I'll bite off your babymaker," Rocket growled, the best he could in Gamora's timbre.
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
"You're not fantasizing about that, are you?"
"I'll leave that up to your imagination, Ranger Rick," he said, as a wicked grin spread across his face.
"That is the last thing I want to hear before being drugged up and knocked out, Quill."
"You did good, Rocket. Better than I would have."
Drax returned with a small bottle. "Drink it all," he chided. "It will be bitter."
Rocket held his nose and swallowed in a gulp, leaning against Groot for when he eventually passed out. He reached out a hand to pet his own comatose form, soft and innocent in Groot's arms.
"I'll see you in the mirror, Captain Awesome," Rocket said, as blackness began to take over. He felt a warm pair of hands grab him by the midsection as he fell to the floor, and awoke with a start curled in Groot's arms, covered in wire.
"I am Groot?" Groot asked hesitantly.
"Hearin' you loud and clear," Rocket replied. When he let out a hearty chitter of a laugh, he didn't hold it back. He felt his instinct jerkbrain surface, but his hearing and scent as well. He'd live. He let Groot squeeze him tighter as he deftly unhooked himself, eventually standing up on tiny hind legs he knew how to use when Groot let go.
Gamora was already up, practicing handstands and rolls. The two locked eyes. They were both home.
As if on cue, Drax burst into the room. "They found the syndicate on Gerba III. Are we ready?"
"You mean 'you'," Rocket corrected. "I think Gamora and I are sittin' this one out. We can always swap back, but I really don't want to lose another day being comatose."
"Point well taken, small one."
And if, when Peter, Drax, and Groot returned with five men and two women in handcuffs to throw in their makeshift brig, they found Gamora brushing a sleeping Rocket in her lap, they certainly made no mention of it to their two resident cyborgs.
