Monster, Chapter 4
Author's Note: If you've not looked at the new ending to Chapter 3, I recommend you look at it now; it hopefully helps fix the time jumps (probably not the switches in perspective, but what are you gonna do?). This, I have a feeling, will be a lighter chapter before I jump back into the revenge fueled and motivated Drax chapter.
Groot hadn't even known what the word meant. From the shifts in body temperature and the scent of anger, more than the normal smell of bravado and constant irritation and pain, of his little companion, however, he knew it hadn't been good.
"You better fucking take that back," A whirr of a gun, one of their clients apparently had been mouthy again, and Rocket now had the gun pointed at the man's crotch, "or you'll much much less of a man."
"OK, OK. I won't insult the plant anymore." Their client had walked away, but Groot felt and Rocket heard the word "Freak."
The man's screams had filled the chamber in the hallway of the planet they were on.
Groot stirred in his pot; memories of the Spring and Summer Before had come back slowly, but come back they did. He also remembered that thankfully Rocket hadn't killed the man who had upset him, but the small raccoon had smelled like aggression, his words vibrating in the air like knives when he had to explain to Groot what the word had meant.
Which had taken a while; the tree being's language had no word for 'monster'. The closest translation had been 'crooked' or 'gnarled', both of which described an individual who had been unbalanced enough to harm others of their kind. There was words for 'strange' and 'not us', usually used to describe beings that weren't the same as Groot.
Language was an odd concept to Groot anyway. The language he had been grown in the First was a strange mixture of vibration (usually sound), the smell, and temperature of creatures. The reason why he could talk to Rocket like he did was Rocket, being much more sensitive than the other members of the strange grove that made up the Milano's population, could pick up the constant smells Groot gave off. Groot understood and could understand language now; but trying to actually speak the way humanoids did was a frustrating and confusing task.
The real question is, Groot asked himself, why did that memory chose to Regrow?
He considered it was probably because of the fact that at the moment, Rocket was in obvious distress, screaming and muttering in his sleep. Groot's pot was on the side of the bunk that the raccoon, and he sent a tendril out, stroking the raccoon's fur behind the ears. Normally, Rocket wouldn't let anyone touch him, but it had been a ritual for Groot as long as he could remember, to still the dreams this way.
He had been startled when he figured out that he wasn't the only one who now shared this duty. Still, sustained slumber was important to humanoids, not the partial slumber Groot's kind engaged in, so it would be best if Rocket didn't wake the ship. Rocket, predictably, feeling the tendril, muttered something and went back to sleep.
There have been comments, from the other Guardians, who had rapidly become his grove after he Regrew, and from other people that he was devoted to Rocket in a way the raccoonoid had trouble acknowledging and could be down right mean about. It was simple; Rocket was the most wounded member of their Grove, the smallest, and he needed Groot.
And if Groot was completely honest, he needed him, since that prison all those years ago.
It had been Rocket's first prison. He had been stealing some pretty small stuff to survive, like food, and stuff to maintain his guns. The idea of working for credits hadn't occurred to him yet. Groot, on the other hand, had been placed for charges for assault for damaging a being who had kicked an animal that closely resembled a dog. Since Groot could remember, he was instilled with the ideal of protecting creatures smaller than him, and for removing the threat of the Gnarled.
It was a curious world that these humanoid creatures lived in that one could harm a smaller being and the one depending the smaller being would be the one who ended up in this lightless, dank place.
He didn't know humanoid speech well yet; he knew the creaking and the wind they made was how they communicated, but besides figuring out how to say his name, Groot had no conception. Still, the "big dogs" as Rocket had called them later, of the prison, wanted an example made, and the foul mouthed little being, bereft of his weaponry, was a good target.
Groot had come in the middle of the beating. Rocket was fast and strong; but the "big dogs" knew how to use their size to their advantage.
Well, Groot remembered thinking, he knew how to use size to his advantage too. He loomed behind them, moving remarkably silently for being the tallest creature practically anywhere. ("How can a big dumb tree like you loom?" Rocket had snarked later, when they had understood each other to exchange notes on that day.) There was a strangled gasp as Groot seized them by the most graspable appendage he could find, tossing them aside.
Rocket had told him later that the 'most graspable looking appendage' had been the creature's necks. That had explained the strangled, started sounds, the smell of fear, and the very slight alteration of temperature (humanoids were very warm beings, like the sun). He dangled the last one, the one most consumed with pounding on Rocket, and pulled him upside down, glaring at him.
"I. AM. GROOT." A liquid, smelly warm emitted from the creature's pants. Groot, supposing that he had gotten the message, flung him aside to join his compatriots across the room.
"I didn't need your help." came the small defensive voice in the corner. At the time, however, Groot hadn't understood the creature's speech as he scooped him up, putting him a warm tree cocoon. "Hey, hey! Let me go!" The protests were half hearted, and Rocket had hit him later (not that had damaged Groot in any way).
It was worth noting, however, when Rocket had escaped that very first time, Groot had come with him.
There was some misconception among those who observed the Rocket/Groot relationship that Rocket owned Groot, perhaps as a kind of servant. The closer, more accurate word that would explain their business relationship was 'partners'. Rocket was his Grove, along with Peter, Gamora and Drax. That was simply it. His kind didn't procreate the same way the others did. There was no 'mates', no one person that consumed your life. There was your Grove, and that was it. You spent your entire life trying to find them, and in the Guardians of the Galaxy, Groot had found his.
While he was still Regrowing, he was explaining the concept to Rocket, and indicated that this was perhaps, a conversation they should have with the rest of the team.
"I don't think that's a good idea," came the response. "Besides, they'd be weirded out by the thought they're multiple married to a tree and a furry little monster."
"I am Groot," came the reply that only the two of them understood. The closest translation was 'God damn it, Rocket, you're not a monster.'
"I do not think that the remainder of the Galaxy gives a fuck what a tree beast thinks, Groot. 'Sides, 'Mora, Quill and Drax have their own damage. Don't burden them with this. Not now. Please." From the sounds of the louder tinkering on the project that Rocket was working on, he considered the conversation ended.
Groot didn't always agree with Rocket, but he knew the raccoon well enough to respect his wishes in the matter. Still; besides dancing with Quill, giving Gamora a reassuring "I am Groot", and
playing with Drax their 'quick, make him notice me then stop moving game', he often wished he had a way to tell them what they meant to Groot.
He had managed. Once. In the Dark Aster, when Rocket had rammed Ronin with the ship, saving Drax, the ship careening into their death plunge. That was when Groot knew Rocket had cared for them too. When Rocket told him he'd die, he knew that there might be a chance to live on.
It wouldn't do to give Rocket false hope. Any of them false hope; the galaxy had shit on the other four of them, calling them ugly, taking away the things they loved.
They were the most precious thing to him. The 'losers' as Peter had put it, the unwanted beings. They were his, and Ronan wouldn't have this victory today of knowing from whatever afterlife that gnarled murdering bastards went that he took the Guardians of the Galaxy with him.
So, he meant it when he said, "We are Groot," wiping Rocket's tears; and between them, there had been no ambiguity; they were his grove, the thing he had been looking for.
It was a shame, then, that he didn't know he'd Regrow from this or not.
Perhaps it was the confluence of magic and miracle that he did; he had lost more total body volume of any of his kind when the Dark Aster crashed into Xandar. Maybe it was the Infinity Stone; pulling the Guardians together as a kind of destiny (the four of the remaining guardians; their scents blurred together, their temperature all one, burning in the Infinity Stone's fire but holding it there as his consciousness, a part but watching, waiting to Regrow) as they destroyed both Ronan's ambitions and his body, the Kree dying as those words, although they were spoken with Peter's lips and in Peter's voice coming from their collective core:
"You said it yourself. We're the Guardians of the Galaxy, bitch."
(Rocket had to explain, after some confusion on how Groot would know that, what a 'bitch' was. Groot agreed that Ronan was an utter bitch.)
It had been taboo the idea that one could make a Grove from humanoids on Groot's planet. That the greater mingled consciousness could not come from beings too closed off, and Groot was just a little crooked to think it could work. Those moments, those few seconds, had proven what his elders had said, the idea he was crooked, when they put him in exile, wrong.
It was brief, and it was fleeting, and it was beautiful, and even though it lasted a second, it had marked them; even Groot, only consciousness, waiting to Regrow. They were his and he was theirs.
In the present, he looked over the sleeping Rocket, and smiled contentedly as the raccoon snored. He then considered he would never have to tell the remaining Guardians his secret, and he didn't care that he, and them were considered freaks. He was home anyway.
Post Note: I'd apologize for this chapter being so short, but no. Groot is the Guardian with the least damage, and so, less torture as far as questioning who/what he is. I don't do this hardly at all, but this Chapter is dedicated to my Grove. You know who you are.