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“Rocket?”
Rocket jerked, smacking his head off of the top of the panel he was ducked into. “Shit!” he yelped, rubbing his smarting forehead. “Warn a guy.” Sighing, he pushed himself out and turned. “Oh. Hey.”
Nebula shifted, staring down at him with her usual stoic face. Years ago, Rocket wouldn’t have been able to pick up on her emotions. Years ago they wouldn’t have even spoken, now he thought about it. Now though he could see the tense lines in the corner of her eyes, the stiff way she held herself. “You alright?”
“My hand,” was all she said, and held it out. Rocket winced, immediately knowing what she was talking about.
“It’s happenin’ again?” He hopped up on to the tool table beside them so he could take her hand. Nebula’s fingers were trembling, faint hissing noises coming from the panel on her wrist. Rocket made a sad noise, pressing her thumb pad and pulling her hand closer as the wrist panel slid open.
Nebula made an aborted noise and he glanced up in worry. “Shit, sorry, Nebs.” Her eyes were closed and he didn’t move until she opened them, nodding once.
“It’s okay.” The real skin around her wrist was hot and inflamed. Rocket could smell the infection without even trying. He looked in, eyes picking out the wires.
“I don’t know why this keeps happenin’,” he mumbled, reaching in with one long claw to pick out one of the wires. “This is, what, the fifth time this year?”
“Something like that,” Nebula agreed, her voice tight with pain. “I may just be coming to the end of my cycle."
Even after all their years spent together, Rocket still hated the way she spoke about herself, like she was a useless machine made from spare parts. His ears flattened against his head in irritation. “Stop bein’ stupid.” Despite himself Rocket couldn’t help but worry. What if the machinery in her was backfiring? He couldn’t lose any more family. Even though the others were back, he couldn’t imagine the ship without Nebula. Over the past five years she’d worked her way into his heart with her murderous glare and prickly attitude.
He knew she had a softer side, too. Had felt it in the times she’d helped him fix the ship, when she’d laughed at his joke, the sound so foreign they’d both stopped what they were doing to stare at each other. He knew what it felt like for her hands to be on him, lifting him to bed after falling asleep at his workspace. He’d helped her calm down when she flew into one of her frantic panic attacks.
Yeah, Nebula was close to his heart. It hurt to see her in so much pain.
“We’ll sort this,” Rocket promised, tying off the loose end to the wire that was causing the infection. “I’ll start checkin’ for a planet with a healer, an’ if you’re alright with it, we’ll go and get you seen.”
Nebula’s cybernetics malfunctioning was becoming worryingly common. She had started falling sick with it with increasing frequency over the years, and it was only a matter of time before something happened Rocket couldn’t fix. He wanted a real professional opinion, but Nebula hadn’t allowed him to search. He didn’t want her getting sick again, or something happening that an outside eye could have picked up on before.
Nebula nodded, swallowing. It was clear she was just as tired of this as he was. Rocket pressed her thumb pad and the panel slid back over her wrist. She moved as if to leave and he grabbed her hand, remembering the night they had sat on the steps of the Milano, holding hands until the sun had risen high in the sky. “Hey.” His voice was uncomfortably gentle, and he almost didn’t carry on. Then he remembered the countless nights of sleep he’d lost regretting the times he hadn’t told Quill he liked his stupid playlists, his refusal to speak to Gamora about his cybernetics. He’d remember all the times he could’ve been kind and told them how he really felt and tear himself apart with it until it was time to get up.
He would not to do that again.
“Whatever it is, we’ll get it,” he promised. Nebula watched him with emotionless inky eyes, but her fingers curled over his. “An’ if it is something to do with your cybernetics, I’ll fix it all. I’m the best damn mechanic in the galaxy. I’ll make you a whole new skeleton, if that’s what you need, alright?”
Nebula’s mouth twitched in her odd little smile and satisfied, Rocket let go. “Thank you,” she said quietly, curling her fake hand around her real one.
There was nothing else that needed to be said. Rocket watched her leave.
He turned back on the desk, staring blankly at the open panel on the wall. His mind was running with thoughts so fast he had to close his eyes to try and slow them. Things were too quiet on the ship. Rocket had expected music and laughter when the others came back but there was nothing. Just a quiet grief and shock. He'd forgotten, in the excitement of the battle, that the others had only lost Gamora weeks ago. For him it had been almost six years.
Not that it didn't hurt. When he thought about Gamora it made his heart twist like it was going to explode but he was starting to forget the sound of her voice. Sometimes he hated himself for it. Other times he ignored the fact he couldn't remember if her eyes were brown or blue. It hurt, but not as much as it used to. He could fight back the tears now. Rocket wondered if that was what healing was like, if he'd be stuck in this constant state of intense misery that lessened bit by bit until it was only slightly unbearable.
“Since when were you two so friendly?”
Rocket jumped, eyes flying open and whirling to face Quill. “Jesus, Quill! What is up with people scarin’ me today?”
“Jesus,” Peter noted, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s a very Terran thing to say.”
“What can I say, the bastards grew on me,” Rocket admitted. He picked up the wrench and jumped down, turning back to the open panel. It was okay, he could fix it later. He began closing it. “Guess I picked a few things up.”
Peter didn’t speak and when Rocket looked back his face was hard. Sensing his bad mood like an oncoming storm, Rocket sighed, closing the panel and hopping back up to the table, arranging his tools back in the way he liked them. “Spit it out, Quill.”
“How can you just be so okay with everything that’s happened?” he exploded, faster than expected. Rocket closed his eyes, counting to five and pushing down the ball of rage that simmered in his throat. Peter didn’t give him the chance to speak. “How?”
“In what fuckin’ world am I okay with any of this, Quill,” Rocket sounded bored, even to his own ears. Peter strode forwards until he stood at the end of the table. His fists were clenched.
“It’s like you don’t even care about Gamora being gone! Nobody seems to want to find her.” Peter’s eyes were glistening and logically Rocket knew he was just grieving and pushing his misery on to the first person he'd came across, but the next thing he said wiped all thoughts of logic from his head. “Do you even care she’s dead?”
“What the fuck, Quill? Of course I care!” Rocket whipped around, his mouth lifting in a snarl. “How fuckin’ dare you?”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” Peter gripped the edge of the table. “You and Nebula are so buddy-buddy even Drax has picked up on it. Seems like you’re well moved on already.”
“You watch your mouth, Quill. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Rocket growled. His heart was pounding hard.
“I think I understand plenty,” Peter snapped, folding his arms. Rocket stood up straighter, his tail puffing out at Peter’s dangerous tone. For a second there was silence, and then Quill leaned forward and dropped the bomb.
“You’re replacing Gamora with Nebula, and if the rest of us hadn’t come back you would’ve found other people to take our places too.”
Rocket stared at him, his breath catching in his throat. Out of all the things he’d expected Peter to say, that wasn’t any of it. Hatred rose in Rocket’s chest like poison, stealing his breath. He didn’t know if it was for himself or the man standing opposite him. Peter kept eye contact, looking mad and alone and mean. Rocket opened his mouth, but what slipped out was a quiet, trembling, “Is that really what you think of me?”
Peter didn’t answer, which was an answer enough.
“It is.” Rocket stared down at his hands, which were shaking. His vision began to tint with red. He’d suffered, been lonely, grieved his family until his body collapsed under him for longer than he’d even known them. And now Quill had come back and assumed he knew what Rocket has been through, what it had been like to lose his whole family?
“For one,” Rocket’s voice was a deep growl. He thought he’d known anger before. The rage he felt almost paralysed him to the ground. He took a step forwards. “Nebula is Gamora’s sister. If anything, you should be welcoming her, you fucking selfish dick.” He took a deep breath but the rage didn’t leave.
You would’ve found other people to take our places too.
“I didn’t sleep for two weeks after you died,” Rocket snarled around the lump in his throat. Peter took a slight step back, clearly taken aback by the new emotions warping Rocket’s voice. Tears rose so fast in Rocket’s eyes he couldn’t stop them from falling. “And when I finally passed out, guess who was there to catch me? Nebula! We were all we had for five years. So forgive me for havin’ new friends. Forgive me for tryin’ to find new family with the only person who felt like they could be. Because maybe you think you know, Quill, but I promise you you have no fuckin’ idea what I’ve been through.”
Rocket tried to squash it but he was on a roll and the words slipped out anyway. “I missed you all so much I almost died workin’ to find a way to bring back the stones. For the first year Nebula and I didn’t even go anywhere because we were workin’ on tryin’ to bring you five home. I almost opened that airlock so many times. I went to the shadiest places in the galaxy I knew with no guns, hopin’ someone would just kill me and I’d get to stop feelin’ the way I did. You know what Groot said to me? He called me Dad as he fuckin’ turned to dust. You know what that did to me?”
Rocket couldn’t help the tears that were rolling from his eyes, or the shaking that had taken over his whole voice. “When I found out you guys were all gone too, I sat on the steps of the Milano with Nebula for the whole night. I felt like I’d been scooped fuckin’ hollow. I almost killed myself when we realised Thanos had destroyed the stones. So don’t—don’t you fuckin’ dare tell me I didn’t mourn you guys.”
Peter’s chest was heaving as Rocket finished, almost nose to nose with him. As Rocket calmed down slightly, he felt the wetness on his face and groaned, wiping it away. A deep exhaustion started to thread through his bones and suddenly he wasn’t angry anymore. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, closing his eyes. Peter still hadn’t spoken. “That was too much to dump on ya—ah!”
Peter yanked Rocket to him, arms tight around his body. Rocket only wasted a second before he hugged him back the best he could, closing his eyes. “No, I’m sorry,” Peter said. His voice was trembling. Rocket could smell his tears. “That was—that was so wrong of me. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re damn right, humie,” Rocket sniffed. Then, because he understood how Peter felt, and he had missed him, he said, “It’s alright.”
Peter laughed quietly, his body shaking with it, and then sobered. “It just feels like everyone’s moved on. Like I’m—like I’m the only one who remembers her.”
Rocket drew back, letting go. Peter let him go too, crossing his arms over his chest. His face was tense with trying to hold back the tears. Rocket held on to his arm, giving it a shake to show how serious he was. “I have grieved for five years.” Peter listened, wiping his eyes. “It never got easier. I never got over you guys.” Feeling a little awkward, Rocket glanced down at his feet. “You guys are my family. I’ll never love people like I love you guys.”
Peter sniffed.
“I’m sorry you had to go through it yourself,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry we le—left you alone.”
“I wasn’t alone, Quill,” Rocket said very gently, and Peter shut his eyes in understanding. “Do you see?”
“Yeah.”
“She never stopped grievin' either.” It was true. There were memories Rocket would never tell the other Guardians, memories of Nebula’s tears and his mixing as they held each other. It had been lonely but almost bearable with her there. “We only had each other.”
“God, I’ve been such an asshole,” Peter huffed a laugh. Rocket shook his head.
“You’ve been grieving,” he said. “Grief is the asshole. Just remember everyone else is, too, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Peter sighed, closing his eyes. Rocket dipped his head, letting it knock against Peter’s chest. “Yeah, you’re right.” Rocket allowed himself a minute to calm down. Peter didn’t move, his own eyes shut as he collected himself. Rocket had never had such an intense, emotional conversation with Peter and it had clearly knocked them both flying.
“Okay, c’mon,” Peter said, nudging Rocket. “Climb on.”
With a faint scowl, Rocket climbed on to his shoulder, digging his claws in to his jacket to keep his balance. He looped his tail around Peter’s neck.
“Where we goin’?” he asked, voice raw from the shouting.
“We’re putting the search for Gamora on hold,” Peter said, his voice strong. Rocket glanced down at the top of his head with a frown.
“What?”
“I haven’t been the best captain lately,” Peter admitted. They were making their way to their seats. “It’s time that changes.”
“What are we doing?” Rocket asked, jumping down from Quill’s shoulder to his own seat, catching his grip and settling into the chair. Peter slid down on his seat next to him, like it should be, pressing the button that called the others to their seats when they were starting a journey. He met Rocket’s gaze.
“We’re gonna find a healer for Nebula.” They shared a smile. Rocket found himself blinking back tears again. “I gotta start looking out for my family.”
The others filed in and Rocket dropped back into his seat, completely exhausted. Nebula ran a hand over the top of his head with her good arm as she passed, her eyes glittering good-naturedly when Rocket pretended to snap at her fingers. He caught Peter watching them both with a slight smile.
“Okay, gang. Everyone strap in,” Peter said. Drax as usual complained about the seatbelt hurting his nipples but he went largely ignored. Nebula was in Gamora’s old seat, her face tight with pain as putting the belt on jostled her arm. Mantis hummed a happy little song as she clipped herself in behind Peter, asking where they were going.
Groot grumbled behind Rocket, who reached a hand back, not expecting much as he listened to Peter explain. Nebula's face softened with shy surprise. Rocket was surprised to feel a tendril grow around his outstretched hand. When he glanced back Groot was glued to his game, but his hand was outstretched too, daisies blossoming through his fingers as he held on to Rocket's hand.
“Now,” Peter said as he set a visible course for the nearest habitable planet, Kontraxia. “What song should we put on?”