This chapter was almost delayed. I spent a lot of this week busy getting birthday stuff ready for my brother, working on the plot for the Earth book, rushing my horse to the vet (he's fine, just a scare), and other shenanigans. It's been quite the wild ride.

GotG and characters belong to Marvel, this is a fanwork for entertainment purposes only.

Title is from "Diamond Eyes" by Shinedown. I've had this song picked out as one of Rocket's theme songs since long before I started writing Astronautical, and I was happy to finally get to include it.

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Chapter 3: Diamond Eyes

Prove that he could control Nebula, Gamora and Rocket? Peter had no clue how he was supposed to do that. Mostly because, well, he actually couldn't. Begging, bartering, and shaming them into doing what was necessary was more accurate, but that probably wasn't the kind of thing the Nova Corps had in mind. And since coming to this alternate universe, he was pretty sure Nebula had been the one giving him orders more that the other way around.

Still, Marlowe's suggestion made sense. It was their best chance, as long as he could get the others to play along for now. The trick would be convincing them without making it obvious, since he was to be under supervision during his visits. Plus, even if he had been able to outline his plan plainly, he had no clue how Rocket would take to it, even for the sake of his eventual freedom. The best place Peter could think to start was to finally remove that d'asted muzzle, and prove to Rocket that he was here to help him.

As soon as breakfast was finished and cleared away, Peter made his intentions about removing the muzzle as quickly as possible clear. Marlowe left to request the controller which, it turned out, was in the Nova Corps's possession much to Peter's chagrin. She had dismissed his protest that they wouldn't need it with a hard look that reminded him of the last Nova Prime.

"Until you prove that he's not a danger to the crew he will be treated as such," she had said as she cleared her tray away. "He's classified as one of the most dangerous weapons in the known galaxies, and while I want to believe you and sincerely hope you're right about your friends wanting to leave Thanos, we still don't know if this is somehow a trap set up to sneak his agents inside."

She had vanished with her tray and dishes before Peter could turn the ball of rage in his gut into an articulate protest at having Rocket so casually referred to as a weapon.

Once the rest of the group finished clearing their own trays away, Dey escorted Peter and Cosmo back towards the confinement quarters. Kraglin had declined to join them, heading instead back to the Eclector.

Peter was still stiff, and Cosmo was heavily favoring his left side, so by the time they made it to their destination Marlowe was already waiting for them in the hallway outside. She had the small black square held up in one hand for him to see, but when Peter reached out for it she pulled it away.

"I'm under strict orders not to give it to you," she explained in lieu of an apology.

"Can I at least have your word you won't use it?" Peter asked. It would do him no favors if Marlowe panicked and used it while Peter was struggling to build some sort of trust with Rocket.

Cosmo will be here, Cosmo added before Marlowe could answer. If anything happens, please allow Cosmo to use powers before resorting to controller.

"Only a moment," Marlowe promised. Despite her harsh tone, Peter thought she looked a little relieved at the thought of not having to use it.

While they'd been talking Dey had opened the door to the Containment Chambers and they entered as a group now. Inside, not much had changed since his visit the night before. Gamora and Nebula were still on their own sides of the room, but this time Gamora was busy doing push ups in the open space next to her bed. Nebula, having apparently exhausted the small number of books they'd been supplied, was on the floor as well. Where Gamora was busy exercising, Nebula lay on her back in the space next to her own bed with her feet propped up against the wall. Counting the tiles in the ceiling would be Peter's best guess as what she was doing.

At their entrance, Nebula rolled to her feet with an ease and grace that made it clear she had healed from the worst of her injuries. Gamora paused in her push ups long enough to regard the new arrivals, then continued on, her lips moving silently as she kept count.

"Hey guys," Peter offered with a wave. "You look... good."

Nebula, not one for small talk or niceties in the best of circumstances, crossed her arms and cut straight to the point.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nova Prime Saal agreed to let me remove Rocket's muzzle," Peter explained.

At his words, Gamora stopped her workout entirely and rose to her feet as well. She didn't say anything, but Peter could see an expression he knew quite well on her face, and knew that, had they not been joined by the Nova Corpsmen, she would be informing Peter that this was the most idiotic idea she'd ever heard. Nebula seemed to agree with her sister's line of thought, but was obviously much less surprised by Peter's decision. She just offered him a noncommittal twitch of her lips as he made his way to Rocket's door which Dey was in the process of opening.

Rocket was still in the closest thing to a dark corner one could hope to find in a room made mostly out of glass walls. He'd been curled up again with his back to the room -or maybe he just hadn't moved since Peter had seen him last- but at the sound of the door opening he whipped around to face the intruders with alarming speed. There was nothing surprising about Rocket's feeling towards what must be, to him, just his newest captors. What was disconcerting to Peter was to see that Rocket hadn't stood at their entrance, but had remained with his belly to the ground in a sort of half-crouch that made him look more like a wild animal than Peter had ever seen him. The scene wasn't helped by the way his tail and the small amount of hair visible along his neck had puffed out, or how a muffled but definite growl was rumbling from deep in his throat.

"Hey Rocket," Peter said, crouching down and holding both hands out to prove he had nothing in them. "Don't worry. I'm just here to take that thing off your face, Okay?"

Rocket's only response was to hunker further back into his corner.

Suddenly Peter was having second thoughts about how this would go. He'd kind of figured that as soon as he explained what he was here for, Rocket would be glad to be rid of the muzzle. Now he wasn't so sure Rocket could even be convinced to hear him out. Marlowe and Dey were being helpful so far, but he knew that everything they saw would be reported back to their superiors. If he couldn't convince Rocket to be at least somewhat civil, it would seriously hurt his chances of getting his friends let out of here any time soon.

"It's not a trick, buddy." Peter lowered his voice a bit. "I just need you to hold still and let me take-"

Peter had been slowly scooting forward as he spoke, and was almost within reach of the muzzle when he noticed something that froze him in place. So far, he'd only really seen Rocket twice in this universe. Once on Half-world, where the bright lights and deep shadows had caused strange reflections in his friend's eyes, and once on Traxxon III where the atmosphere had tainted everything in the same ruddy glow. He hadn't questioned it at the time, but now, under the cool clear lights up the Nova Corps ships, Rocket's eyes somehow appeared to be stained red, as though the rest of him had been rescued, but his eyes still reflected the harsh lights of the battlefield.

For a second he thought that Rocket might have suffered a similar injury to the one that had caused Peter's own left eye to be flooded with blood, but while only the white's of Peter's eyes were stained, this red was inside of the iris and too uniform to be from any injury. Even more concerning was that the red seemed to have spilled over his pupil as well. It was still markedly darker than his Iris, but the pupil wasn't a pure black. Was Rocket blind? That didn't make any sense. He had been aiming as clearly as ever. The faint scar still fading on Drax's neck was proof enough of that. But even as Peter assured himself of this, he noticed that the eyes staring back at him did look just a little bit unfocused, and the pupils were oddly wide for how bright it was in here.

While Peter contemplated whether or not he was just imagining that unfocused look, the eyes suddenly changed. Changed was all Peter could think to describe it as his brain had no way to account for the way that one moment the eyes staring back at him had been a deep ruby and the next, like the shutter of a camera lens, they were taken over with a blue tint.

Peter gave a startled yelp and fell back on his butt.

"What was that!?" he gasped when he had blinked a few times and the eyes staring back at him remained that strange new shade of brown over-laid with blue.

"They're just his lenses," Nebula's voice supplied from close behind him, muffled just slightly through the thick glass.

"His what?"

"Lenses," Nebula repeated, like she thought he must have misheard the word. "Like your mask. So he can see better in the dark and detect security lines."

Peter turned his head slowly to stare up at Nebula who had moved over to stand next to the wall that split the rooms.

"They're inside his eyes!" he gasped.

"Yes." Nebula scrunched her eyebrows together and tilted her head as she stared down at him.

"Inside," Peter stressed, when she just stared down at him like he was the strange one here.

"It's more efficient." Nebula shrugged. Then, seeming to take pity on him, or maybe just thinking he was actually too dumb to understand what she meant, she reached up with one hand and ran it along the implant under her left eye. At her touch, the seams of the implant lit up with a soft teal glow, and a faint holo-screen formed over her eye.

"A Prototype," she explained, quiet enough that it was probably not intended for Dey and Marlowe to hear. "One of Half-world's earlier attempts at implanted ocular augmentations. They were trying to adapt it to my existing implants. 'Rocket''s are a later model, built into the eyes themselves.

"It's just internalized lighting and a modified lens that can change its crystalline structure to affect how it refracts and absorbs light. It should be a direct translation, so I doubt he had to have any internalized adapters to help process the information."

Peter blinked up at her as he tried to sort through the slew of words. He understood them all separately, but together they made no sense, or at least he really didn't want to make sense of them. Not for the first time, he wondered how deep the changes in his best friend would run.

While they'd been talking, the steady hum of Rocket's growls had begun to fade, but when Peter turned back to study his friend's eyes with this new knowledge, the volume rose again.

"You should wait until-"

"No." Peter cut her off harshly. Then, softer he added. "No, I'm removing that muzzle. Now." The reminder of just how terribly Rocket had been treated in this universe had just reaffirmed his need to get rid of the hold Thanos had over him. The muzzle, then the collar, then whatever damage had been done to his friend's mind.

With slow deliberate movements Peter rolled back into his crouch and reached for the muzzle once more. The growling grew even louder, but Rocket had run out of space to retreat. As his fingers brushed against the smooth metal surface Peter was all too aware of how close he was to the raccoonoid's nails. He'd felt them enough times when being used as a vantage-point for his shorter companion during battles, and had to mend enough tears in his tough leather jackets to learn to respect the damage they could do even when he was being intentionally gentle. Peter really didn't want to know what they could do if Rocket decided to stop being gentle with them.

But Rocket, either having finally understood what Peter was doing, or frozen in indecision, didn't lash out and Peter's fingers made it to the straps of the muzzle undamaged. The eyes staring back at him were stretched so wide Peter could see the ring of white around the edges. They flickered back and forth between the red, blue, and normal brown hues in a nonsensical and dizzying fashion. Peter forced himself to stop looking at those flickering eyes and focus instead on the muzzle, working his fingers slowly down the strap.

Here he discovered another terrible surprise. As his fingers followed the metal strip across Rocket's cheeks, and under his eyes, he lost track of the strap in the mess of longer fur along his jaw. A memory rose of crawling across the battlefield and grasping the straps there only to lose them just like he was now. He had thought he was just too dizzy, his fingers too numb and unresponsive when he had lost those straps in the long fur. There was no similar excuse here, and yet, the straps slipped from his fingers every time, vanishing among the fluff. Hesitantly, Peter scooted just a bit closer and reached around Rocket's head, hoping maybe he could find the strap back there and either find the clasp from the other direction, or try to pull it over his head. But there was no strap.

With a new sinking suspicion Peter brought his trembling fingers back to the straps and carefully traced the edges and felt his stomach dip when he found the ends. At first they felt like they connected to nothing, but a very gentle experimental tug revealed that the muzzle straps were somehow anchored directly to Rocket's skull. At the movement, Rocket's growling grew louder again and a faint but definite trembling was taking over his body with the effort.

Pulling his own trembling hands back, Peter took another glance over his shoulder. Nebula was leaning with her shoulder against the wall now, and was staring down at him with an unreadable expression. He had so many questions that none of them came out and he was just left staring up at her in a silent plea for help.

Nebula sucked in one long slow breath before exhaling through her nose and seeming to give up on whatever warning she was trying to communicate.

"You need the controller. It's a code."

"What's the code?" Peter asked, finding his voice.

"I don't know. I never worked with him much, and they probably changed the codes after I defected to be safe." As she spoke, her gaze flickered subtly towards Gamora who was watching but had remained silent so far.

"Gamora?" he asked, leaning so he could see more clearly.

"I know the codes," Gamora admitted, stepping towards the door of her cell where she could be nearest the Nova Corpsmen. It took a moment to explain how the buttons worked and what order to use them in. Gamora's explanation was curt and almost robotic as she spoke to Marlowe through the prison wall, and Marlowe's responses were icy and businesslike at best. Cosmo and Dey watched on in mute interest.

"I think we've got it," Marlowe finally said.

Rocket's growls which had been a steady backdrop to everything had faded back into a nearly inaudible tone while they had been focusing on the remote. His eyes were still huge and wavering slightly like they couldn't quite decide where exactly Peter was, and his limbs were all tense, his nails trying to dig into the tile floor. As Peter reached for the straps once more, sliding a pair of little hidden switches that Gamora had mentioned, the raccoon remained oddly calm. Peter took this as a good sign, maybe he was finally calming down and realizing what they were here to do.

"You're going to get bit." Nebula's warning was low, but it still made Peter, who had been focused intently on Rocket, jump and Rocket flinched in response.

Feeling his patience running out for her needling, he gave the muzzle another little tug and was overjoyed to feel it move this time.

"He's-" she began again, but Peter cut her off.

"He's not going to-SON OF A FLARKING BITCH!" Peter howled. With lightning speed, almost before the muzzle had been slid entirely off his face, Rocket had snapped down on Peter's arm. He hadn't bit and held, thankfully, but, like a furious snake, had struck him at least three times before Peter was able to yank himself away and leap back. Peter stared in horror at Rocket, who was still pressed into the corner like a wild animal, his lips peeled back and Peter's blood now flecked across his lips.

"What-?" Peter gaped. There was a weird foamy drool at the corners of Rocket's mouth which dribbled onto the floor below and smeared into his fur as he struggled to somehow work himself even further into the darkness, nails leaving little grooves in the flooring as he scrabbled uselessly backwards. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's the withdrawal," Nebula answered, still leaning casually against the wall that was directly across from him now. "I doubt he even knows where he is or what's going on."

"Withdrawl?" Peter echoed, willing his breathing to slow back down.

"Another tool my father uses to control his... favorite people. A potent drug that doesn't have a strong effect on the mind when used, but it's highly addictive. Going through withdrawal is like being lit on fire from the inside out. It eats away your mind and your will so even if you do try to escape, it'll drive you back before you're even aware you've done it."

"And you couldn't tell me this earlier?" Peter snapped. Any trace of humor and patience dropped from her face and Nebula narrowed her eyes dangerously. Peter pressed his lips together and dropped his eyes in an almost immediate apology. She had been trying to warn him, he just hadn't wanted to listen. It probably wouldn't have stopped him if he had known.

"Will he be okay?" Peter asked, trying to move away from the awkward silence.

Some of the tension in Nebula's body relaxed, but he could tell she was still upset with him.

"The withdrawal is a tricky process, more so with this drug than most. For now, it's best to let him be. He can injure himself fighting if you insist on harassing him. In a day or so when he's over the worst of it -if he gets over the worst of it- he'll be more aware of what's going on and need lots of water and food. Right now anything you gave him would be more likely to cause harm than good."

"If he gets over it?" Peter's heart was slowing to a more normal rate, but his chest felt hollow and cold.

"It's very taxing on the body. Not everyone survives it," Nebula said, her gaze sliding from Peter down to where Rocket was still hissing in the corner. "My father used it as a sort of right of passage when his children transitioned from training to assassin. If you were strong enough to survive it, you graduated and were granted the title 'assassin.' You're friend Rocket isn't considered one of his children, so he never went through the process."

Peter wondered if this meant that Nebula and Gamora had gone through this. Maybe not this universe's Gamora, who had been controlled through other methods, but probably Nebula, and maybe his own Gamora. Now wasn't the time to ask, though, so Peter resolved to hold his questions until after all of this was over and they could have some privacy. If he was brave enough to ask even then.

With the reminder of their chaperons, Peter turned to steal a glance at Dey and Marlowe. The pair were looking a bit uncomfortable, the unmistakable tint of unwanted sympathy just visible under their more trained expressions. With a jolt, Peter wondered if Nebula's speech was for more than just his own benefit. It was the most words Peter had heard her say since coming here, and unlike her hissed warnings, she'd said it loud enough for everyone to hear every word clearly, even if she'd only been looking at Peter while she spoke. It was easy to forget, with how awkward she was with her own emotions, that she was still a very skilled assassin, and could be very good at manipulating people if she wanted to.

-x-

After the muzzle had been removed and the assassins had confirmed that the best medicine they could give Rocket right now was peace and quiet, the visitors dispersed. Marlowe left to return the controller, and probably to report on what she had learned, and Cosmo, Peter, and Dey left to stop by the medical bay to tend to his bites.

His arm wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. Whether through deliberate thought, or just random chance, Rocket had attacked the wrist that was already covered in a hard cast. The cast had been reduced to splintered threads, a terrifying testament to how powerful those jaws were, but it had buffered the worst of the bites. Another small blessing was that Rocket hadn't had the presence of mind to rip or tear, so the dozen or so places where his teeth had made contact were just perfect round punctures that went straight in and straight out. He'd have some serious bruising, and Dey insisted on giving him a shot of antibiotics after scrubbing his arm with near-boiling water to be safe, but the damage could have been a lot worse.

"Our medical equipment isn't what it used to be on Xandar," Dey said, as he inspected Peter's broken finger with a small scanner, "but it's still one of the best in the known galaxies. Your finger's making good progress, so I'm just going to splint it and give you a soft wrap. It wasn't a big break, and you should be out of the wrap in a few days."

"That's good," Peter breathed as Dey pulled out the supplies to start wrapping his hand. He had just regained use of that hand again, and wasn't looking forward to another bout of letting other people steer his ship and fumbling with other mundane tasks. "Thanks for helping me remove the muzzle by the way."

"You're welcome," Dey's lips quirked up as he worked over Peter's arm with steady hands. "To be honest, we were all hoping you would be able to do it when you woke up." At Peter's surprised look, Dey gave a smile that was comforting as much as it was apologetic. "As far as we could tell, he couldn't eat or drink with that thing on, and regardless of how the trial goes, we couldn't just let him waste away of neglect. We were trying to figure out how to get it removed without risking the crew's safety or his escape when Drax suggested you would want to do it when you were awake. Seeing how it went, I'm glad we didn't try to do it ourselves.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I know it must feel like we're trying to trick you at every corner, but we're just doing our best to figure this all out. The thought of Thanos being able to turn back time is not a pleasant one, and I think it has everyone on edge."

"I know," Peter snorted. "Believe me, I know."

"It's like everything changed when you came on board. For the first time in a long time, we have hope, and at the same time, it feels more hopeless than ever." Dey finished his work on Peter's wrap as he spoke, giving it a final pat to ensure it was all laying flat and released his arm.

Cosmo, who was lounging on a pile of pillows that had been set on the floor for him, raised his head to join in the conversation.

Cosmo understands that this comes as big change, and change is never easy, even more so in large groups such as this, but time is being wasted here. We should be focusing on fixing future, not dredging up mistakes of the past which are already regretted. Why dig up old bones and wear your teeth out chewing on them when there is bigger prey to hunt?

Dey blinked down at the dog, as though sorting through the words for his meaning before answering.

"You should bring that up at the trial," he finally said.

Has there been any news on when that might be?

"Nothing worth sharing," Dey sighed. When Peter and Cosmo both stared back in silence he added. "I'm not lying to you, I swear. Most of the Upper Council wants to have it as soon as possible. Get it over with and decide what to do with your friends before they figure out how to break out or something. Saal, Nova Prime I mean, and a couple of the council members feel like we still don't have enough information to make a proper decision, so I really don't know. If there was any way to verify what you're saying, that might be helpful..."

As Dey trailed to an end he looked up at Peter hopefully.

Peter chewed his lip and fiddled with his new arm wrap. Even if he wasn't so disturbed by the Infinity Stone as of late and was willing to come in contact with it, he didn't think the Guardians were in any condition to be using it. Gamora was still only neutral about him, at best, and Rocket was out of his mind at the moment with no way of telling where he'd land in terms of loyalty once he woke up. With just Drax and maybe Groot he might survive the experience, but he really didn't want to find out the hard way.

As he considered his possibilities a new thought came to him. It started as a just a blip in the darkness, so faint and flickering that it seemed to vanish when he focused on it too hard.

"You said they needed proof of my story...?" Peter ventured, speaking out loud in hopes of coaxing the thought to grow.

"Yes." Dey perked up slightly. "Do you have any?"

Cosmo had also perked up, staring intently as Peter through those bright thoughtful eyes as though he could see the thought forming as well.

"I don't think I can give you proof of wielding the stone just yet. It would be too dangerous, but... What if I could prove the part about my heritage? What if I could prove I'm half-Celestial and that they're not all extinct?"

"How would you do that?" Dey asked. "We know your DNA is different, but with nothing to compare it against..."

"But what if I could give you something to compare it against? What if I could show you the last living Celestial? Would that prove enough of my story for now?" The words were rushing out of him as the plan unfolded before him. He could find Ego and, with the help of the Nova Corps, retrieve Mantis without having to wait for all this trial nonsense first. It would be dangerous, but if it came to a fight he'd have a much better chance of saving Mantis with the help of the Nova Corps than he and his friends would alone, especially now that they didn't even have a ship. And after seeing Ego use his powers, the Nova Corps wouldn't be able to deny what he was. With that as a sort of proof of his heritage and potential power he was sure they'd be a lot more eager for his help, and he'd have a lot more influence over the release of his teammates.

Plus, in the worst case scenario that the trial somehow went horribly wrong and he and his friends needed to make a fast exit, it would be nice to have retrieved Mantis first.

"That might work," Dey murmured. A nervous look crossed his face, mingling with the excitement, as he seemed to realize what meeting a Celestial might mean.

"How soon can I get a meeting with the Nova Prime?" Peter hopped off the bed with a renewed energy.

Dey glanced at a small screen on his wrist with a thoughtful look.

"I'll talk to Marlowe. She's been working as Saal's assistant now, since she knows the job better than anyone, so she has a better idea than I do of his schedule. I think he'll make time for something like this though. Where can I find you later?"

We will go back and join comrades Drax and Groot in barracks. Cosmo answered for them both. We will leave word if we move before you find us.

End

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Chapter 4 Preview: "...We had a request to make. It couldn't wait."

"What kind of request?" Kraglin asked.

Peter opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Yondu coming over to join them.

"Actually, it might be best if you guys stuck around and listened as well..."

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Because someone will probably ask, Rocket can speak. And he's not going to be 'animalistic' all the time. He's just, basically, high as a kite right now and completely out of it.

Rocket, in my opinion, got the shortest end of the stick here of all the Guardians (but doesn't he always?). The changing eye colors is both a nod towards the fact that in the comics his eyes are often an unnatural red, and I think in a couple they were outright cybernetic, but I can't swear to that one it's been a while. It's also loosely inspired by a fan-comic I found forever ago that someone made after they found some reference to Rocket having blue contacts. There was never an explanation to what or why, but I thought it was funny and it got me thinking about other cybernetic enhancements which would eventually lead to some of the original inspirations for this story as a whole, so I had to keep them included in there somewhere. xD

Peter will probably realize in retrospect that he should have at least asked Groot to help. It wouldn't have changed anything, but at least Groot can handle being bit with less issue. Peter's still a bit impulsive, especially when he's worried and exhausted, despite his resolution to be more careful in the end of the last book. He is trying, but change takes time. The decision to change is only the first step(I think, to a degree, Peter is also subconsciously more accustomed to protecting Groot than relying on him, since he only had adult Groot for one or two days, and has since been raising a twig.). So this is yet another lesson for him, to stop letting his emotions make all his decisions for him and to stop and listen to his teammates more. Hopefully it'll stick a little better this time.

-OMaM