Woohoo! Long chapter for you guys.
I'm not sure how much longer this story is going to be, I'm thinking one or two more chapters and then I might start another Rocket-centric fic if school and everything goes well. It's really piling up this week so I wanted to get this posted before Monday.
Please read and review!
"You did what?" Gamora practically shouted, striding over to where Rogers stood, ready to finally decapitate the man.
"What was I supposed to do?" He asked angrily, his lab coat had already been discarded disgustingly to the side, the man had practically torn the thing off the moment they entered the Nova ship again. "You told me not to give away our position and that's what I did."
Gamora felt pure fiery rage churn in the pit of her stomach, her knife already in hand and prepared to lunge at Rogers' throat. "I didn't mean electrocute him!" She seethed.
Rocket was back in their care, and at the moment, that was the only thing that mattered. But none of the guardians were able to overlook their trigger-happy comrade reduced to such a pitiful state.
She knew that Rocket had been tortured in the past, torn apart at the seams and stuffed with some new wire or another slab of metal and sewn together again only to go through it again the next day when the pain had barely worn off. But the amount of absolute shock she was feeling now, just thinking of the horrible state in which they had found him.
His fur was matted with sweat and blood and even torn out in some areas, his entire body lined with infected and scabbed over claw marks. The fur along his neck was practically all gone, burned with an electric collar no doubt, the skin still red and inflamed. The part that made Gamora, the woman who had witnessed and experienced enough torturous events to last her a lifetime and then some, bite her lip as nausea threatened to take over, were the red and swollen implants lining the creature's body.
It wasn't the fact that they were there in the first place, after all, the majority of her own skeleton consisted of metallic implants. No, what made her clench her fists and bite back a sorrowful cry upon seeing her unconscious friend was what they had been using the damned implants for.
It was enough to force one to endure the pain of mechanics and wires running throughout their entire system, and by the sound of it, the Halfworlders hadn't even thought twice about using anesthetics when tearing the raccoon apart and forcing the metals into his body, but electrocution?
She shuddered just thinking about it. Having heard Rocket's screams in the night, the troubled nightmares of their smallest partner suddenly meant something new to her. Neither she nor Drax had ever seen the implants before, Rocket always covering them with his jumpsuits and ready to blast anyone who dared question him with one of his newest inventions, but she couldn't say that she had been all too surprised at what she saw upon running into that room and seeing him lying shaking and afraid on that table, wires jutting out of him like he were a marionette doll.
"And what? Let them electrocute him instead? They would have killed him!" Rogers' shouting shook Gamora from her musing and the knife in her hand was clutched even tighter in her grasp. A hand stopped her from practically leaping across the table at the man and she turned sharply to find Peter's hand resting on her shoulder, biting back the reflex to simply stab at it to release herself.
"He's right Gamora." He stated plainly, removing his hand, eyeing the dagger in her hand warily as though he could read her initial intentions.
"You're siding with him again?" She shouted angrily, pointing an index finger at Rogers accusingly. "He could have gotten Rocket killed!"
"But he didn't. We told him to keep under the radar until we got everything shut down and that's what he did." Peter retorted. "Look, Rocket's back, and we've got another problem on our hands without you two biting at each other's throats."
Gamora felt herself stiffen upon the comment and Drax, who had hidden himself quite well from the recently unfolding situation between the assassin and her prey, looked up from his place at the front of the ship.
"What do you mean 'another problem'?" He asked suspiciously, his large brow drawing low as he stood up from his seat.
"We found something on Rocket while getting out and it doesn't look good." Peter answered, gesturing to the tree figure looming over him and staring blankly at the ground.
It wasn't like Groot to be separated from his furry companion for long, Rocket had even refused to allow anyone else to carry his pot about when the Flora Colossus was reduced to all but a dancing twig, despite the fact that it eventually became too heavy for the raccoon to even lift it off the ground. And as the events of the past week had hit all of the guardians hard, she knew Groot had suffered the most, only wanting to have his aggressive gun-toting friend at his side again.
In fact, Gamora would have thought the tree being would have been at Rocket's side at this point most likely not leaving it anytime in the near future as the raccoon began to recuperate. So she was most certainly on edge, wondering what had happened to the creature to have gotten Groot pulled out of the room.
"What is it?" She asked, cursing herself for not having followed Quill into the emergency ward of the ship, instead staying back to question the former scientist.
"A tracker…" Her eyes widened as all occupants of the room turned to face the man in question, his voice hardy a whisper.
She turned back to Quill, a breath caught in her throat only to get a nervous shrug in response. "They kicked us out the moment they saw the stitches to perform x-rays." He explained hurriedly. "Wait, are you sure?" He was breathless. The fact that Rocket had been forced to relive everything his panic attacks had already forced him through was scarring and horrifying in itself, but if Rogers was right, Gamora doubted any amount of alcohol poisoning or explosions would get the reclusive raccoon to open himself up to trusting anyone again.
And that horrible and agonizing pain in the pit of her stomach that had only grown since she had first seen her smallest colleague, curled up and shaking with pain on that damned table, somehow managed to worsen when Rogers nodded.
"I- I heard them discussing it before when I… when I worked with Halfworld. About chipping him in case something did happen." He explained shakily, his gaze never actually rising from the floor to meet any of them before glancing down the hall in the general direction of the emergency ward. "They're going to come back for him, no matter what we do, they're coming back."
…
Something was poking him, and whatever it was, it hurt like hell.
Rocket groaned, opening his eyes slowly to face whatever was hurting him so badly, hissing slightly when the bright lights blinded him once again. That was when the panic set in and he remembered exactly where he was.
Halfworld.
His eyes snapped the rest of the way open, making the woman at his side jump slightly in surprise before smiling down at him and placing a hand on his head. He shook it off hastily, snapping at her fingers and swiping frantically through the air with his claws before backing himself up against the back of the table until he hit a wall.
"Wow, hey, calm down. We're not going to hurt you Rocket." She began, reaching towards him again, this time pulling back in pain when one of the animal's claws caught her wrist.
Wait.
He looked down at himself, holding his hands out in front of him in disbelief. He wasn't restrained.
It didn't take more than that moment for Rocket to launch himself from where he sat, leaping past the doctor at his side and hitting the floor and stumbling on all fours to evade her hands as they reached down to grab him again.
"Wait!" He ran, he ran through the doors and through the halls, ignoring when the sounds of voices shouting behind him grew louder. Ignoring the pain in his sore implants and bleeding cuts because all that mattered was that he kept moving. If he kept moving, they wouldn't catch him. They wouldn't take him back again.
He had done it before, usually a trick, another experiment just to see how far the subject could actually get to escape when freedom was just within its reach. But that had never stopped him, it had never broken him, because he knew that someday, he would make it through that open door at the end of the hall, he would dodge those hands grapping at his fur and tail, evade that blasted collar they shoved around his frail neck before dragging him back to his cage.
And now was that time. The men and women surrounding him were certainly less than prepared for their subject's attempt at escape and he had used it to his advantage, scrambling around a second corner where he ran head on into one of the confused worker's legs.
Scrambling frantically to his feet, the raccoon looked up fearfully at the one staring worriedly down at him. "Rocket?" Peter asked, kneeling down and reaching a hand out towards him.
NO!
It was only a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. He hated these dreams, he hated when he saw the familiar faces of his friends in his Halfworld hallucinations. He hated it because it was only a matter of time before it actually happened. Before they saw his true form and forgot all about Rocket, their team member and family, and only saw the subject, created to destroy and be torn apart like some rag doll.
But this wasn't a dream. He knew it was real, he could feel things, and the scabbed over skin at his collarbone was making every movement hurt. His legs were weak and shaking and his head was pounding as Peter continued to reach forward, towards him.
Of course, by the time Rocket had overcome his initial shock, Peter had already grabbed hold of his wrists. He was going to slam him back on that table again, tether him down and watch him writhe. A choked cry of panic made its way from the raccoon's raw throat as his knees gave way underneath him.
It was over.
He couldn't do it anymore. They knew about his weakness, the side of himself that Rocket had always tried to keep hidden. His arms hurt immensely as he hung limply from Quill's grip, staring down at the white flooring, waiting to be hauled up by the back of his neck and back to the testing facilities.
…
Peter flinched upon hearing a loud crash sounding from the hallway, followed by a series of surprised shouts. "What was that?" Gamora asked, forgetting her anger all together and exchanging a worried glance with Peter before both of them had taken off down the passage.
Of course, with the luck the Guardians had been experiencing lately, it had something to do with Rocket, and Peter's fears were confirmed when the raccoon in question practically crashed into his legs at full speed before scrambling back, his eyes wide with panic.
The voices of the Nova doctors from behind Rocket snapped him out of his initial shock, quickly waving them back, knowing they would only send the shaking ringtail further into his anxiety attack. Gamora took the hint as well, knowing that the less people surrounding the escaped Rocket, the better, taking a few steps back and pushing Rogers back with a hand as well.
"Hey, hey, Rocket?" Peter said in a hushed voice, crouching down so that he was at eye level with the smaller Guardian. The raccoon didn't respond, only shrinking back on himself into a ball, staring back on his pursuers with wide blank eyes, his chest heaving quickly as he began to hyperventilating yet again.
"Wow, hey buddy look at me. You're safe! Look!" He started reaching for his friend's hands and grasping them firmly in his own, ignoring when Rocket started to panic again, pulling fearfully against Quill's grasp, letting out a strangled cry that made him only want to let go again.
"Rocket, look at me!" Peter managed, trying to keep his voice low as of not to only worsen his condition, which was quite hard given the circumstances as the raccoon simply let out another cry, his knees buckling beneath him so that he hung limply by his wrists, a defeated sob wracking his body.
"Peter." The whimper made him almost lose his grip on the raccoon entirely, watching as a puddle of tears forming at his feet, Rocket's head drooped almost lifelessly against his furred chest. "Peter, please don't do this to me."
This time Quill did let go, barely catching his friends when he began to collapse rapidly towards the floor, scooping him up in a protective hold, cringing when Rocket let out a startled and panicked cry, trying to kick away from Peter's grip, but his grip remained firm as he turned slightly to look at Gamora.
She had turned away, her back facing the two as Rocket began to break down again. He had known that she was never one for emotion, usually trying to actively avoid it. But the shaking of her shoulders told Peter that she was close to hysterics herself.
Rogers on the other hand, hadn't stopped staring at the former subject from the moment he had crashed into Peter's legs. His unwavering gaze actually setting Peter himself on edge.
A sharp pain in his arm forced him back to the problem at hand as Rocket tore weakly with his claws, hardly drawing any blood despite the look of absolute panic he wore.
"Rocket. Rocket!" He shouted, sighing with relief when his companion's head snapped up towards him, finally meeting Peter's eyes. He smiled down at him, craning his neck even more to reach a lower level. He knew that the smaller one appeared, the less intimidating they seemed, unfortunately, when a raccoon is the one you're trying to calm, it's easier said than done.
"Hey buddy, we're not going to do anything to you, I promise. You're safe now." He said softly, making sure to keep eye contact with the smaller creature as he did.
"Please don't leave. I can't be alone again."
There it was again. The reoccurring phrase that the raccoon had used earlier on the Halfworld ship. 'Don't leave me.' As for what it meant, Peter really couldn't even fathom. What he did know was that whatever had happened to Rocket while he was in that damned Halfworld ship wasn't about to solve itself anytime soon.
"No, of course not." He said, frowning when he lost eye contact with the raccoon again. "Rocket, you're safe now okay? You're on a Nova ship now, we're going to help you."
Rocket's head began to lift slowly, his gaze still wavering with uncertainty, but Peter knew it meant that he was getting somewhere. That is at least until he felt the horrible scream of agony tearing itself from the raccoon, making Peter jump and actually drop his smaller companion in the process.
Gamora was at his side in an instant, looking just as shocked and horrified as Quill felt, watching as Rocket fell to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain, clawing at his already bloodied collarbone furiously.
"What's happening?" Gamora asked angrily, staring down with worried eyes as blue sparks danced across the raccoon's skin, running through his implants.
"It's the chip." Peter jumped yet again, forgetting Rogers was even with them anymore.
"What are you talking about?" Drax questioned, reaching for the blade at his side.
"The Halfworlders, when they implanted the device it had a safety on it." He explained, pushing Drax's muscular arm away from him and ducking over to where Peter sat frozen in front of the writhing animal.
"So it's not just a tracking device." Peter managed, although he felt that he already knew the answer as he stared down unknowingly as Rocket began to curl up on himself, electricity racing through his system and making the skin around implants on his chest and back turn red with pain.
Rogers shook his head. "They lost him once and they're not going to allow that to happen again without some form of vengeance."
Peter pursed his lips before reaching back towards the raccoon again, wincing when small electric sparks ran up his spine, but held the shaking Rocket against his chest, running a hand between his ears as he stood. His shrieking had been reduced to strained whimpering, his eyes screwed tightly shut and blood dripping from the festering wound at his shoulder.
"Quill, what are you doing?" Gamora asked, racing up to his side as he raced through the halls of the Nova ship, practically bursting through the doors of the hospital wing, startling the Nova nurses horribly as he did so.
"We need to get this thing out of him now." He answered through gritted teeth. If the electrified chip was already making Peter feel dizzy with pain, he didn't even want to think about what Rocket was feeling right about now.
The moment, Rocket's fur even brushed the surface of the hospital bed, the creature's eyes had snapped open, his claws digging into Peter's wrists with panic, no doubt believing he was once again being placed of that damned metal table.
The doctors had gathered around the raccoon, one with a long needle in hand with what Petr was relieved to find was anesthetic to put Rocket out of his misery for a few hours at least.
Rocket however, didn't see it that way, his feet and hands scrambling atop the mattress to pull himself away. Peter nearly lunged for the panicking creature, pinning him by the shoulders, cringing when another bolt of energy raced through him. That unfortunately wasn't the worst of the pain he felt in that moment.
No, what actually sent Peter reeling back was when Rocket turned to stare at him, his eyes filled with a look of pure betrayal. "Why?"
And that word alone was enough to make Peter feel like he was going to have his own panic attack as he restrained his own friend, his family, down, not able to do anything but make Rocket relieve those tortured memories of electrocution and scalpels as they tore him open again to remove that blasted tracking chip that was slowly killing him from the inside out. Frying his circuitry and reddening the burned and blistered spots around his metallic implants even more.
"There's too much cybernetic tissue to cut through without causing critical blood loss." One of the doctors chimed, breaking Peter from his frustrated musings, although he refused to look away from Rocket for even a second as he tried to reassure his smaller friend that they weren't about to let him die, much less kill him themselves.
"So what? You're not going to perform the operation?" Gamora asked furiously.
The man stepped back, gesturing to the x-ray at the table next to him. "This circuitry runs throughout his entire system, by the time we figure out which wires we can cut without causing serious brain damage or other critical injury, he may just die of blood loss itself." He retorted. "We will try, but without a proper knowledge of his cybernetics, there's little chance he'll make it through the operation at all."
"I am Groot." Groot, who had remained silent for the majority of their time on the Nova ship, said desperately, his usually bold voice breaking as he approached the bedside, grasping one of Rocket's quivering hands in his own much larger one. Rocket's fingers grasped around his wooden friend's tightly as it appeared the voltage from the chip in his neck increased immensely.
"I can do it."
Peter turned, along with everyone else in the room, towards Rogers. "I was there for most of the operations and I know how his cybernetics work, I can help with this procedure." He said with determination.
Peter pursed his lips, wincing when he felt Rocket arch his back in protest under his hold. "Okay." He finally said, nodding towards Rogers who had already pulled on a surgical mask and a pair of latex gloves before making his way to Rocket's side.
The raccoon in question let out a small strangled cry amongst his whimpering upon seeing the man approach him.
The next few moments seemed like a blur to him as the anesthetic in the syringe was injected into Rocket's neck. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened after that as both he and Groot were forced to let go of their furry companion, whose eyes were already starting to droop, and led out of the room by Drax and Gamora.
The last thing he saw before the doors swung shut behind them was Rocket's blank stare at him as the scalpel in Rogers' hands was brought to his skin.
And done! I need to stop these late night writing surges, because my writer's block always seems to disappear only at like 3 in the morning.
Anyway, please leave a review!