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Watching Groot fade into dust… and hearing his last words echo in Rocket’s mind was the hardest part. It felt like the end to a story, to a lifetime. And yet, when Rocket had sat there and cried every last tear in his body and mourned the loss of his best friend, his son - he still had to stand up and continue. He looked around at the devastated faces of the Terrans around him, people he had never met, and the pang of true loneliness hit him for the first time in a very, very long time.
From what Rocket could gather, it seemed like everyone had lost someone. Everyone had someone to mourn and to mourn with. And sure, Rocket had the former. But all he could think about right now was his remaining family, those lovable shitbags who were stranded somewhere out there in space. Hopefully together. Hopefully alive.
Something told him not to get his hopes up.
And that fateful day when the Milano blinked into existence on the edge of the atmosphere, Rocket was the first to know. The first to be there when it touched down. Seeing that familiar sight - the ship he called home - filled him with light and warmth and that glimmer of hope he’d ground into the dirt for fear of hurting. He could practically picture the dumb look on Quill’s face, how happy he’d be to see his only true rival alive and well. The smiles of reunion on Drax and Mantis, and even through Gamorra’s pessimism, the twisting of her grimace into a cool grin.
And he felt the crowding of Terrans behind him. Only a few. The important ones, he guessed.
Then the ship opened, and out stepped a metal-man he did not recognize, then Nebula. And they looked heartbroken.
No one else stepped foot out of that ship.
The man in the broken iron shell quickly made his way into the crowd of Terrans, and they went straight to conversation. Names flew, presumably of those who were lost, Strange, and Parker, and introductions and reintroductions were made behind Rocket, who had locked his eyes on Nebula’s.
She walked to him and squatted down.
Rocket’s voice, frayed, and tentative, broke the pocket of silence between them.
“Everyone?”
Nebula only nodded.
It was hours later when Thor found Rocket in a pile on the floor of the Milano, with Nebula staring out the window. The two standing exchanged glances and Nebula, sensing an encounter meant to be private, quickly turned to leave. Passing Thor, she gave another curt nod, as it seemed to be all she was left with.
Thor sat cross legged on the ground in front of the sobbing heap of fur and leather. He reached out to lift Rocket’s chin towards him, and met his red, teary eyes with the warmth of the sun. And Rocket crawled into his lap and cried some more.
Some time passed, then, as Thor consoled him, large hands petting his head. He let rough fingers slide over his ears, down his spine, pressing softly into his lower back, over and over again, until Rocket felt it necessary to break the silence.
“I’m sorry. For, uh, being such a mess.” His voice cracked like a campfire, warm and bittersweet. “I thought after Groot...” He stumbled over his words for a moment, looking up at Thor. “I, I thought I could take it, take anything, but... they’re really... all gone...”
Thor continued stroking his fur soothingly. “They were important to you, I gather.”
Rocket sighed, the impossible weight of five lost lives heavy upon him.
“They were everything to me. They were my family. They were all I had, all I’d ever had.”
He began weeping again, quiet this time.
“I never told them how much they meant to me. Not really.” He wiped his eyes with balled up fists. “God, I was such a dick to them. And to Quill...”
He fell quiet.
Thor brushed a stray tear from Rocket’s cheek fur. “Quill?”
“Peter. He was the one who brought us together. That dumb idiot got us into every single mess we ever made. Besides a few I’ll claim credit for.” He let out one bitter chuckle.
“And now I’ll never get to tell him I was in love with him.”
Thor rubbed Rocket’s shoulder.
“I’m sure he knew, brave friend. You’re a tough little one, but you have a big heart. Even in the short time we’ve spent together, I can feel that.”
Rocket shook his head. “I should have told him sooner. But that damn oaf only had eyes for Gamorra. And when he wasn’t drooling over her, we were bickering over who was a better pilot, or marksman, or leader, or whatever else we could think to fight over. Like petty little brats.”
“Even still, people have ways of knowing.” Thor’s eyes darkened. “My brother and I, we fought for centuries at a time, but we knew the strength of our brotherhood. He knew how I worried for him, and he for me. How each of us cared.”
A silence settled.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, the last thing I told him was that he was a moron. And he practically called me a coward.”
Thor smiled softly. “I can assure you, you’re no coward. And from what I remember, he was indeed slightly moronic.”
Rocket smiled in kind, melancholy. “But he always had the best intentions. Headstrong and foolish, maybe,” he said, his melancholy hardening into an impotent anger, “but no one could say he wasn’t a good fucking guy.
“And now he’s gone.” He began sobbing again. “They’re all fucking gone.”
Thor’s face fell. “I’m here for you, friend. I know the pain of losing your family, your love - it’s unbearable, but you must bear it. For them, and for their memory.”
Rocket met eyes with Thor, and he felt the old Rocket stirring again.
“Am I… a bad person for wanting to kiss you right now?”
Thor tilted his head.
“Not bad.” He paused. “Not good, either.”
Rocket lowered his head, ready to bury it in Thor’s torso.
“Right. I’m sorry. I’m being shitty.”
Thor sat silently for a few short moments. “You don’t really want me, Rabbit. You deserve better than a king who couldn’t save his people, a god who doomed half the universe.”
“I… deserve better than a god?” Rocket rolled his bloodshot eyes. “You’re crazier than I am.”