Cosmo's initial summarisation of Rocket was not entirely inaccurate- he was warm, or at least knew how to be, although perhaps 'explosive' was a better way of putting it.

Relegated to less menial tasks on account of his leg, the raccoon spent the better part of his days (when he wasn't drunk or sleeping) building things. If he was in a particularly good mood he hummed while he worked and on occasion he'd ask her to fetch a tool or a piece of scrap if it lay too far out of reach. If he was in an especially good mood he would delight in explaining every little detail of his inventions to her.

"So you know dog whistles, right?" he asked one morning, holding up what looked like a miniature kazoo and looking very pleased with himself. "They emit ultrasonic sound so only us species with more sensitive audio perceptions can hear 'em. This beauty right here is kinda like that, only the opposite. We can't hear it, the frickin' deaf ones can. Should give 'em one hell of an earache, too."

"Incredible," Cosmo praised, and Rocket failed to hold back a little smile.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat uncomfortably and held the device out to her. "Sound's pre-recorded, so all you gotta do is push this button here. Not the worst way to get out of a fix."

It took the spacedog a hot second to process that sentence. "It's for me?"

"Well yeah," the raccoon waved it at her with exaggerated impatience. "Goodness knows I don't need it."

"Spasibo, comrade!" Tail wagging, Cosmo gently plucked the whistle from his paws. "I will cherish this-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Rocket rolled his eyes. "Do we still have any of those Sonaran energy bars? Kinda starving here."

Doing her best to ignore how much it hurt whenever he cut her off like that, Cosmo shuffled away to sniff at the small mountain of food-stores they were slowly but surely cutting down to size. So what if he didn't do open displays of affection? He was still nice… even if he did call her stupid at every given opportunity…

Her misery showed in the way her tail dragged, and perceptive as he was, Rocket noticed. His mind briefly exploded into a cacophony of internal debate that Cosmo did her best to block out until finally the raccoon screwed his eyes shut and shook away whatever thoughts were haunting him.

"Thanks," he said, when presented with the energy bars. And then, looking up at the ceiling in an effort to avoid meeting Cosmo's eye, he added. "Want me to scratch you behind the ear... or something?"


"So sorry to interrupt!"

The memory cut out, replacing the dim mess of Cosmo and Rocket's Bibroaclite craft with the brightly-lit interior of the Milano. In place of the sheepish Rocket of the past stood his grumpier current self, who looked not at all sorry.

"Just wanted to let you morons know that the kitchen's on fire!"

As one the Guardians followed the raccoon's outstretched arm to where it pointed at the bright green flames beginning to crawl into the common area.

"Nobody panic!" cried Quill, lurching to his feet and stumbling slightly as blood rushed to his head. "Rocket, make sure-"

"Groot's fine," the raccoon grunted, gesturing at the snoozing sapling nestled between his ears.

Relieved, the legendary Star-Lord turned his attention towards the second most pressing issue. "Drax-"

If the Destroyer heard him, he did not act like it. "My spinach puffs!" the kylosian screamed, leaping to his feet and charging headfirst into the roaring flames.

"Gamora-"

"On it!" Gamora shot back, brandishing a high-pressure extinguisher that looked more likely to start fires than end them and blasting condensed water vapour and carbon powder on full auto.

"Cosmo-"

"Da Captain!" the labrador reared back, twisting open the sprinklers so that it began to rain.


A short while later...

"You sure are some Captain, Quill," muttered Rocket, wringing his tail dry. "That's a quarter of your ship roasted in the space of eight hours."

Truth be told, between the lingering smoke, the overbearing scent of wet raccoon/dog, and the fact that he'd done nothing to put out the fire himself, Quill did not feel like much of a captain. Of course, admitting that to Rocket was not something he'd do in the best of times, let alone when the raccoon was being eighty-percent a dick. "What exactly is your problem?"

"Aside from the complete destruction of all my stuff, including but not limited to a prototype aerorig I spent the last three cycles working on-"

"For the last time!" Quill raised his arms up in disbelief. "That! Was! An! Accident!"

"And if I were to accidentally blow up your music box?" pondered Rocket, withdrawing the walkman and dangling it between two claws.

"If you so much as get a scratch on it," Quill warned. "The next thing Drax will be roasting is your ring-tailed, little raccoon-"

Rocket cut him off with a glare so venomous, Quill knew immediately he'd crossed a line.

Before the staredown could escalate, Drax emerged from the kitchen, surprisingly none the worse for wear despite running straight into an inferno.

"Friends!" he cried, holding out a platter of golden-brown pastries. "Now is not the time to argue, we must rejoice! For my puffs have proven themselves indestructible and worthy of our appetites."

"That's wonderful," grumbled Rocket, reluctantly taking one of the offered pastries.

"Glad to hear it," echoed Quill, doing the same and matching the raccoon glare for glare.

"If it's all the same to the both of you," snapped Gamora, who could see where this was going. "I think the Milano's sustained enough damage for today."

Rocket relented with a sigh, and dropping his gaze to the floor, held out the walkman. Before the raccoon could even think about taking it back, Quill had snatched the metaphorical olive branch from out of his hand.

"Cosmo would like to apologise," said the spacedog, dripping wet and drooping miserably. "If I hadn't been projecting memory-"

"That reminds me," Rocket cut her off with a snap of his fingers and jabbed a thumb in the direction of his room. "Drax, can you?"

"Can I what?" asked the Destroyer, who had no idea what to make of the gesture.

"Can I borrow you for a second?" Rocket scowled, and dug out a small, round device from his pocket. "There's something I wanna test."


Understanding that the second in question was metaphorical, Drax followed the raccoon into his room. It was in fact more of a repurposed tool cupboard, but it offended Rocket whenever this was pointed out and proportionately at least, was more space than the rest of the Guardians got. Due to the vast majority of Rocket's belongings exploding earlier in the cycle, it was also far roomier than usual.

"Right so er- sit down?" Rocket cleared his throat, his usual brash way of carrying himself replaced with an uncharacteristic awkwardness now that it was just the two of them.

Drax did as he was bid and squatted down on a lump of shrunken metal that had once been a set of shelves. "What contraption have you conceived of today?" he asked, as without waiting for permission the raccoon clambered onto him and slapped cold metal onto the side of his head.

"Just er- just something," Rocket shrugged, connecting an identical device to his infopad. "So! What I need you to do is think of a memory. Doesn't have to be anything special. Something happy, something violent, whatever comes to mind."

Drax nodded.

"But it can't be anything that happened recently," the raccoon went on. "It's gotta be something from before all…" he gestured round the room. "...This."

"Something from my past then." Drax nodded, understanding that the 'this' in question referred to the Guardians of the Galaxy as opposed to the immolation of Rocket's junk.

"On three," said Rocket, shaking with uncharacteristic trepidation. "Three!"

Drax fell on his knees, voice raised in agony.

"Drax?"

The kylosian tilted sideways and hit the floor writhing.

"Drax!"

A leg flailing from excruciating pain caught Rocket in the middle and sent the raccoon bouncing into the ceiling.

Startled chittering turned into a groan that quickly morphed into a growl as Rocket hit the floor and fixed the Destroyer with one of his signature glares. "I didn't even start it yet!"

Drax froze mid-windmill and blinked stupidly. "Oh."

There came a sharp knock on the doors, followed by Gamora's voice. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Everything is fine, Drax is just being dramatic!" Rocket snapped, rubbing the top of his head. "Go mind your own frickin' business!"

"I assumed your feelings would be hurt if I did not feel any pain at the metaphorical hands of your new weapon," explained Drax.

If he meant that by way of apology, it did not have the desired effect. Rocket squinted at him. "Does that mean that landmine on Sonnoran?"

The query was met with stony silence, which in a way spoke louder than any words could.

"What about the gravity-"

Drax shook his head.

"Bereet?" pleaded Rocket, a note of desperation in his voice.

"I didn't feel a thing," confessed the Destroyer.

The raccoon opened and closed his mouth as he cycled through emotions far quicker than was healthy. His ears flew back and he bore his fangs in rage, then his ears drooped and he wilted in misery, and finally he shook himself and his ears perked up again. "We'll discuss this later," he snapped, picking up his infopad from where Drax's flailing leg had forced him to drop it. "You got a memory?"

"Yes," said Drax, smiling serenely as it began to play out in his mind's eye.

"It's not anything er- inappropriate, right?" Rocket swallowed and held the infopad at arm's length, as if the whole thing were likely to explode. "Coz no offense, I really don't wanna see that."

"It is nothing special. Just a moment I remember fondly."


Deep in the arid rainforests of Kylos, a Drax who was not yet the Destroyer lay crouching in the undergrowth. Before him, a grazing volturhog meandered about, oblivious to it's impending doom. The Kylosian way of hunting was a respectful one. There was no stalking, there was no element of surprise. Any Kylosian hunter knew that you owed your prey the same opportunity it had given to you. Either the hunter or the hunted would feed on the other's carcass, for such was what fate intended.

Volturhogs were some of the largest quarry in the land, and only seasoned hunters dared to tackle such creatures. Despite their size and their ferocious set of tusks, they were docile and easily frightened. A hunter could only afford to strike when there was no room left for the volturhog to run. Only then would glorious battle ensue.

"Dad! Dad!" There came the sound of rushing footsteps as the volturhog bolted deeper into the jungle. "Look what I found!"

"An Eksadder!" Drax exclaimed, turning to admire the length of serpent held in the proud hands of a small, teal-ish grey girl. "Your mother's favourite." He reached out a hand to take it when suddenly it sprang to life with a hiss and snapped at him with a pair of venomous fangs. He pulled his arm back just in time to avoid losing his fingers.

Kamaria, natural-born warrior that she was, instinctively swung the serpent into the nearest tree, but young as she was it's scales proved too slippery for her fingers. The Eksadder sprung free, and whirled around to snap at her, but in it's frenzy had made the fatal error of turning it's back on the larger Kylosian.

With a sound that could only be described as a roar, Drax's fist closed on the Eksadder's tail and swung it at the nearest tree with all his might. There was an audible crack as it's skull shattered on impact, and the deadly serpent hissed no more.

"I'm sorry," Kamaria's foot drew an awkward circle in the dust. "I thought I killed it."

"It's alright," Drax waved away the apology with a hearty laugh and slung the Eksadder over his shoulder. "We are both unharmed and this beast shall make a fine meal! Come, we must hunt down some yarm root to go with it." Filled with the warm joy that bathed his life in light, Drax lifted the giggling Kamaria off the ground and spun her in a circle, his laughter echoing through the jungles of Kylos-


"Drax!?" The Destroyer snapped back into reality and found that he was now holding a very concerned-looking Rocket. "You there, buddy? You good?"

Drax promptly dropped the raccoon. "The memory… it was- it was very vivid."

"I guessed as much," Rocket grumbled, picking himself off the ground and rubbing at ribs the Destroyer had damn near squeezed the life out of. "Agree to never discuss this?"

Drax nodded and lacking anything better to do, sat back down. He watched as the raccoon scuttled over to retrieve his infopad (that Drax in his memory-addled mind had bashed into the wall with all the strength necessary to kill an Eksadder.) as it bloorped.

"So these things," Rocket explained, indicating his invention. "They're memory files. And what I wanted to test was if I could use them to upload a memory to a database. So…" he handed Drax the infoglass and tapped the 'play' button on the video. "Would you say this is an accurate scene?"

The Destroyer watched with his characteristic impassiveness as the same scene he'd seen in his mind played out before him on the screen. Rocket himself had no inclination to watch it- having in his mind already seen too much- which left the raccoon with little to do besides fiddle with his fingers until it ended.

"It is exactly how I remember it," Drax breathed, staring longingly at the giggling Kamaria held in his firm, but gentle grasp.

Although the Kylosian's voice betrayed nothing but his usual amount of emotion, Rocket was not completely oblivious to Drax's lingering heartache. No amount of dead Ronan's would bring his wife or daughter back, which was a sour pill Rocket himself was all too familiar with. He could relate, he just didn't really know how to. "You er- you okay?"

"I am alright," Drax handed the infoglass back to Rocket. "Thank you. It was good to be able to see her again."

Rocket scratched at his chest, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Gratitude was not his strong suit either, so he wasted little time changing the subject. "My turn now." He withdrew a third identical memory device from his pocket and gently placed it on the side of his head. "How about I show you the brawl on Xandar? Gamora versus Quill versus me and Groot." He grinned. "And then you can be the one to decide who really won that fight."

Drax threw back his head and laughed, similarly eager to move onto a lighter topic. One marred with less regret. "I would be delighted to see the four of you try to kill each other!"


Drax was thrown roughly into the all-encompassing memory and found himself in a dark room filled with rusted cages. In the distance he heard the echoes of a scream and the dripping of a leak. It was not what he had expected- no version of the brawl he'd heard had mentioned such a large abundance of malnourished and mistreated wildlife.

A short, fat man wearing white with a metal component sticking out the side of his head waddled into the room, holding in his hand a small, furred thing that he threw headlong into one of the cages with sickening carelessness. Drax moved to get a better look at the creature, expecting at any moment for Rocket to show up and rescue his furred brethren. No doubt this was a memory from just before Xandar that Rocket was showing him to give context.

Crouching beside the cage, the Kylosian was startled to find that he could not be further from the truth. The small, furred thing stitched together with cold metal and struggling and failing to get to it's feet was Rocket. And it would be several years before he was capable of rescuing anything.

"Rocket, I do not think you meant to show me this."

Neither the younger Rocket, nor the older one seemed to hear him, and unable to will himself out of the memory Drax watched as a small, slim creature with metal arms in a cage besides Rocket's own spoke in a soothing tone. "It's okay, you're here with us now."

"Hey! It's the new guy," said the (comparatively) large, fat thing on wheels with prominent teeth standing besides the creature with metal arms. "What kind of thing are you? You've got like a mask on your face."

Drax recognised the third creature to be a spider, albeit one far more mechanical than the arachnids of Kylos. "Mask, eyes, face, mouth," said the spider in breathless excitement as they towered over the shaking Rocket. "Does it words?"

"Drax!"

Drax felt a sharp pain as the memory file was ripped off the side of his head, and found himself staring up at Gamora. Rocket lay curled up on the floor, clutching his own head as Quill and Groot crowded around him in concern, while Cosmo stood awkwardly at the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"Drax, are you okay?" asked Gamora, noticing the Kylosian's newfound responsiveness.

"I am alright," the Destroyer replied. "Rocket was just showing me a memory."

Before Gamora could inquire further, the raccoon in question groaned.

"I am Groot!"

The Legendary Star-Lord echoed the tree's relief. "Rocket, thank God. What happened man? Are you-"

Ignoring them both completely, Rocket sat up and stormed over to Drax with murder written on his mind and every inch of his form. "You fat-fingered-frickin' idiot, what the hell did you see?"

"You were smaller, locked in a cage and surrounded by strange creatures," Drax replied, with a bluntness that completely froze Rocket in his tracks. The infopad 'bloorped'.

"I am Groot?" Groot wondered aloud, and being the closest to the tablet he stretched out a branch to pick it up, only for the blur of fur that was Rocket to snatch it out of his grip and frantically key in the infoglass' lockdown code.

"I am Groot?" asked the tree, as the raccoon sighed in relief and slumped to the floor. A moment later he realised that he was once again being stared at by the very confused Guardians of the Galaxy.

"What!?" he demanded.

Drax was not alone in getting a weird sense of the Terran term of 'dejavu'.

"Don't 'what' me," Quill retorted. "You were the one screaming in pain!" He picked up one of the circular devices from where a small pile of them had spilled out of Rocket's bag. "What even is this?"

"That is none of your frickin' business!" Rocket snapped, scrambling over to try and tear it out of Quill's grip only for the Terran to stand up to his full height and hold it out of reach. "Give it back you-"

"It's a memory file," Gamora said matter-of-factedly, squinting at the one she'd pulled off of Drax. "Nebula had one."

Rocket froze, eyes darting about like a cornered animal (which Drax supposed, was not metaphorical in his case) until finally he raised his arms in defeat with an exaggerated growl of annoyance. "Since you apparently must know, I was trying to show Drax the time Groot and I kicked your humie ass on Xandar, but then this idiot shoved his mindwaves into my brain and saw something private and personal."

Drax noted the emphasis and guessed that this meant he was not supposed to divulge what he had seen to the others. "It was an accident."

"You should be more careful," said Gamora. "Both of you," she added, frowning at Rocket in a way that said 'you should have known better'. "This is dangerous technology. People have lost their entire consciousnesses or lost control of certain parts of their brain or built unwitting psychic connections with other users-"

The last one must have sounded especially terrifying, because Rocket immediately turned to Drax and there was a quaver in his voice when he asked. "Buddy, what am I thinking?"

After a moment of contemplation, Drax offered his response. "Are you thinking 'Quill is a moron'?"

Rocket stepped backwards, all colour draining from his face as he raised his paws in a silent scream -

"He did not see anything!" Cosmo hastened to clarify. "It was just lucky guess."

Quick as a flash, Rocket bounced right back to temperamental and scowled at the Destroyer. "Way to give a guy a heart attack!"

"Seriously! What is your problem?" demanded Quill, sick to his stomach of getting the lion's share of Rocket's attitude.

"I don't have a problem, I've got problems, plural. One of which is standing right next to you," the raccoon jabbed a claw at Cosmo. "Another is too monumental for your microscopic mind to understand," he jabbed again at the memory file. "And on top of that you smashed my blast doors open and I know it was either Gamora or the dog but I'm blaming you for it because you didn't stop them," he snapped, jabbing a final claw at the blast doors in question.

"You were screaming in pain!" Quill protested, frankly shocked by the lack of gratitude (even from Rocket). "We were trying to! Help! You!"

"Well I didn't ask for your help and I don't want it, so take a frickin' hint already and get the hell out!"

"I am Groot?"

"Sorry buddy, you too," snapped Rocket, not meeting the sapling's eye as he pointed firmly at the door.

"Alright, everyone out," said Quill, picking up the drooping Groot and handing them over to Gamora. He helped Drax to his feet and shot Cosmo a wink as he ushered the Guardians back into the common area. "You heard the raccoon."

"Not a raccoon!" Rocket shot at his retreating back.

"You got that right. You're an a-hole." Quill slapped on his helmet as the blast doors slammed shut. He raised his blasters, set them to stun and rounded on the raccoon, who for his part blinked stupidly, realizing too late that the Legendary Star-Lord had remained on the wrong side of the doors. "Which is why I challenge you to a dance-off."


Footnote: When I first devised the plot of this fic and came up with the idea of memory files as a plot device I had forgotten that Thanos literally watches his own death through Nebula's file in Endgame- granted not in the same 'virtual reality' way I've been writing it as, but let's just say they're different genres of the same technology. Unfortunately, the files the High Evolutionary/Theel gave Rocket did not come with a user's manual (just like the blaster came without ammo) so Rocket has to figure out how they work the hard way. And I figure at this point in time Drax would be the Guardian he's most comfortable asking for help with this, both because of his high pain tolerance as a kylosian and because Rocket would trust him to not ask too many questions.

Next time (because I can't actually guarantee it'll be next week this time), we either head back to Batch 89 or we get a Dance-off or we get a Dog-Day. Maybe some mix of the two? We'll see. I hope you enjoyed, I know I had a lot of fun writing this chapter- especially the individual memory scenes (honestly I'm quite proud of the 'Are you thinking Quill is a moron' gag).