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Chapter Text

"Thor ain't comin', let's roll."

Nebula had been waiting for Rocket to say those words for four days. She hadn't expected anything else from the dejected heap that the "God of Thunder" had become. Rocket hadn't voiced them, but had clearly already had his doubts. His solo return to the ship had confirmed them.

They'd spent a few days at the Avengers compound, trying to figure out what, exactly, was the right thing to do after the snap. The consensus? Nothing. They'd tried.

Steve Rogers had more or less said it himself. An annoyingly persistent optimist. Even he was hopeless.

Thanos was dead. That's where it had ended for Nebula. His plan had been engraved in her brain for years, with machinery and torture and, dare she say it, in the sickness of her own mind, love. There was nothing they could do about what had been done.

Thanos, Infinity Stones in hand, had snapped his fingers, just as he'd promised he would. He'd said it himself; he was inevitable.

All they could hope to do was clean up the mess.

Rocket had insisted on a few more days at the compound. The Benatar was in rough shape, but, despite the state he was in, Tony Stark had a few decent ideas on how to get her going. The tech on Earth was limited and extremely primitive, a fact Rocket had complained loudly and at length ablut to the ill-used terran. He'd also admitted it was necessary to get their ship off the ground. It was all he'd had to work with. The last remaining Guardain had managed to pilfer (borrow, as he put it) enough parts to get their rig flying until, at long last, the ship was ready to go.

Despite that, Rocket had flown them to New Asgard. He'd spent four whole days on a bender with the Asgardian. Obviously, it hadn't mattered, much like Nebula had expected.

Finally, they were headed out.

Sighing, closing the gangplank of the repaired spacecraft, Rocket took stock of what they had to work with.

Nebula was leaning against the wall, fiddling with her left arm. She'd given herself a tour, and this ship, the one the Guardians, and in extension her sister, had been galavanting around in... it didn't make any sense.

"He forgot." Rocket said, his voice void of emotion.

Nebula looked up at him. The strange creature, sentient and not a fox, according to her... dead... her now dead sister, was staring at something rectangular and, so far as she was concerned, inconsequential.

But Rocket... he was frozen in place. It was all he could see, consuming. There it was, the Zune, forgotten but not forgotten, next to the ratty old backpack Quill was -

No. Had been...

so loathe to part with, sitting on the community table. A table covered in food and cards and empty plates and cups. No Gamora to complain and insist they clean it up. No Peter to feel bad about the forever mess. No Drax to blame it on someone else. No bug lady. No Groot to... dammit, no Groot to sit back and annoy the shit outta him... no Groot.

Rocket felt sick.

Damn.

Nebula, closing up her arm, paid discrete attention. After a moment of simply staring at it, Rocket took the Zune in his hand and tapped a single button.

Play.

Instantly, music emanated throughout the ship.

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old
Sometimes I'd like to quit
Nothin' ever seems to fit
Hangin' around…

Rocket pushed the play button quickly. Abruptly the music stopped, silence crowding in around them. He stared at the device in his hands, frowning. Nebula, as nonchalantly as she could, watched him; after a long moment, he carried it as though it were something other, something precious, to a perch in the corner, a place where it clearly belonged, set it up, and left it there.

Clearing his throat, wiping his nose on his sleeve, the small creature moved to the head of the table and stared up into what, so far as Nebula could tell, was a void.

"Damn," he said, more to himself, "how the hell...?" He looked around, then grabbed a chair, dragging it across the floor and climbing up on it.

Man.

He continued staring. Then -

"Are you stayin'?"

Nebula looked up sharply. Rocket hadn't taken his eyes off of the blank space in front of him, hands limp at his sides. His voice had sounded thick, distant. Strange. Clearly, though, the question was directed at her.

For a moment, Nebula considered:

"Yes."

The thing in front of her, an enemy and brief acquaintance, a thing she had shot and also held the hand of, sighed and looked at the floor. For a moment, the sides of his mouth trembled.

"It ain't much. It ain't what it should be," he said, finally looking towards her. His jaw was clenched, but after a rough heartbeat he breathed, "but welcome to the Guardians of the Galaxy."

Curtly, Nebula nodded.

Rocket nodded back. Looking up, he tapped the air in front of him, brow set. A huge screen appeared before him, blinking lights and messages crowding the world of his gaze.

His eyes widened at the overwhelming information before him, then narrowed.

"Okay," he said, "Here we go."

Chapter Text

They ended up on Contraxia.

It hadn't been the plan, not at first. Rocket had corrected their course about two hours after it had initially been set, jabbing a clawed finger on the screen, scowling. Nebula hadn't asked why, or where they were going, though when they arrived at their destination she wasn't surprised.

Landing, securing the Benatar, they walked down the gangplank. What met them was chaos.

The population in the street was sparse, most were probably holed up in their homes, but those that were out? There were bodies on the ground, people looting, children wandering alone. The air was filled with distant screams, smoke from unseen fires polluting the air. It was probably the same everywhere. Half of the universe had disappeared, but the collateral damage was taking its own toll.

Rocket sighed and looked up at Nebula with a grimace. She nodded down at him. As he hoisted his massive gun over his shoulder, she unholstered her blasters and gripped them at her sides.

"Well," Rocket said with a bitter smile, "this'll be fun."

"After you," she said, voice deep and monotone.

"You're very generous," he said flatly.

They moved through the throng warily, Rocket intermittently glancing up at his companion. He was known by a decent percentage of the galaxy, a biproduct of guarding it for four years and saving twice. He was, however, traveling with a daughter of Thanos. Well, former daughter, kinda, but short of making her wear a big sign on her head that said, "Don't shoot, I'm nice now," these people weren't gonna know that, though the visual made Rocket smirk. Luckily, the citizens of Contraxia seemed somewhat preoccupied, and -

"YOU."

Their heads whipped around. A member of the mob was pointing at Nebula, a wild, crazed look warping his face.

"Crap."

"YOU ARE DAUGHTER OF THANOS!" The man unsheathed a large knife, "Word has spread. My wife. My boys. They are GONE, turned to dust in my hands. Gone because of you."

Shit

Looking up at the Luphomoid beside him, Rocket saw an expression on her face that was new. He'd seen her sad, that had been the basic mood for everybody lately, but this wasn't that. She was staring at this man, her inky eyes hooded, her mouth set in a hard line, hands gripping her guns with dangerous strength. Nebula looked... ashamed.

People were starting to stare. Angry people.

"Ah boy," Rocket muttered.

"Your life is MINE," and with that, the man was rushing at them, screaming, unhinged.

But only for about a second. Rocket had leveled his gun and fired, hitting the man square in the chest. He fell, twitching as electricity coursed through his body.

The crowd stilled. Nebula cast her eyes down, guns still at her side.

"Alright!" Rocket yelled, baring his teeth, eyes darting around at the people surrounding them, walking in a slow circle around Nebula as to not miss anyone, "I ain't too discerning about who I shoot with this thing. Any other idiots lookin' to volunteer?"

Silence followed, then -

"You are a Guardian of the Galaxy," said a small, cowering man, voice trembling.

"Maybe I am," Rocket pointed his gun at his new target, "but if you hadn't noticed, things are a little different now. This chick here," he jerked his head at Nebula, "is with me! You got a problem with that? You get to deal with me first. Now, I'll ask you douchebags again; any volunteers?"

Cocking his gun, he waited. No one moved.

Rocket too a deep breath, his gun lowering just a little.

"I don't care what you all think you know, but this ain't her fault... and enough people are gone already."

Quietly, slowly, the crowd began to disperse. Once again, Rocket hefted his firearm over his shoulder and, sniffing, without a word, turned around and started heading in the direction they'd been going as though nothing had happened.

Nebula watched him for a moment, then followed. No one bothered them after that.

They ended up at a bar, dingy and covered with harsh strips of colored light. In here? Thanos hadn't fixed anything. There were still too many mouths to feed. The vague sent of urine, vomit, and alcohol permeated the air. People of every creed, men, women, and even a few adolescents were slumped on tables and over chairs, many lying on the ground. Nearly every space at the bartop was occupied. That's where Rocket headed, climbing up onto one of two vacant stools. Nebula stood behind him, keeping a sharp lookout.

"Hey Hoeb," Rocket said casually, "the usual. Nebula?"

"I'm fine," she said, glancing at him; she'd much rather he didn't drink, not where they weren't safe. For most of her life, she had been one of the most feared women in the galaxy. Now, after Thanos and despite everything she had done, that fear was outweighed by hate. Now, in this new life, she had become a liability. Rocket needed to stay alert.

The dark haired orange woman he was talking to nodded and turned, grabbing a mostly clean glass. She looked tired. Used up.

"Huunid?" Rocket said as she handed him a small shot of blue liquid.

Her eyes filled instantly with tears as she shook her head.

"Yeah," Rocket nodded, ears flat against his head. He took a drink, then cleared his throat.

"We're lookin' for units," he said, putting his glass down, "Got anything?"

"There's a lot of people looking for people," Hoeb said, fishing under the bar, retrieving a communication pad and handing it to Rocket, "A lot of people who need help. They're using this frequency, sending out messages from all over the galaxy."

Rocket looked at the frequency, memorizing it and nodding at Hoeb. She put the com back under the bar.

"All these people," she said, "They will be comforted to know that they still have the Guardians of the Galaxy to help them in these... uncertain times."

Tears fell down her cheeks again, but she smiled through them. Nebula looked over her shoulder at her strange companion. From what little she knew of him, he seemed tense.

"Yeah." Rocket said, clearing his throat again, pointedly not making eye contact. He finished off his drink, then slid the empty glass across the bar, "Hey listen, how about one for the road? Like you said, me 'n... me 'n the guys got a galaxy to guard. Thanks for the drinks."

He downed another glass of the blue stuff, then nodded his goodbye to Hoeb, transfering her the units he owed. Hopping down from the stool, he trudged out of the bar. Nebula looked at Hoeb, not really sure what to do, and followed.

Once they were outside, Rocket sighed, looking up at the stars.

"When me 'n Groot was still bounty huntin', we used to work with her old man."

"What was he like?" Nebula asked.

"He was a good guy," Rocket looked at her, "He knew everyone this side 'a the galaxy. I don't know how Hoeb's gunna get by."

"She is strong," Nebula said, "She will find a way."

Rocket nodded grimly. Nebula had the suspicion that he didn't agree.

They made it back to the Benatar without incident, aside from a few looks in their direction from the locals ranging from fearful to enraged. Rocket paid them no mind, but Nebula stayed on guard; it wasn't her companion they were staring at.

They climbed up into the Benatar, pulling up the gangplank and setting their guns on the table.

"I'm hungry," Nebula annouced, crossing to the refrigerator, opening it and peering inside, "what do you want?"

"Hey, yeah," Rocket said as he brought up the screen and started plugging in the frequency Hoeb had given him, "get me one 'a them red packets if we -"

Nebula waited for Rocket to go on. When he didn't, she looked up.

"What is it?"

"Awe man."

Alarmed, she abandoned her search for food, joining him in front of the screen.

Distress calls. Millions of them. Rocket raised his hand, hesitated, then tapped one.

A woman with bright pink skin appeared on their screen. She was screaming, crying, holding a baby tight to her chest

"Please! Please, anyone, our planet is on fire, there are thousands of us still here, we -" something exploded behind her. She ducked, screaming, "Anyone, please, we need -"

Rocket clicked away, then tapped another one. A blue child, no older that six, appeared, squeezing a doll.

"My mom told me to use this if anything happened. I don't know where she is. I'm supposed to -"

The feed cut abruptly. Though his heart ached, though his mouth was dry, Rocket tapped another.

A man, staring lifelessly into the reciever. Someone was screaming behind him.

With every second, more calls were coming. Rocket's wide eyes flicked from one to the next, his eyebrows knitted together.

"My father had said, his whole life, that when his goal was achieved, he would rest, and watch the sun rise on a grateful universe," Nebula said, her voice thick.

Rocket tried to ignore the burning behind his eyes.

"Yeah. Well, I'd bet that damn maniac wasn't expecting this"

Chapter Text

"But she's just a child!" Nebula shouted.

"Yeah," Rocket snapped back, "and they're an entire civilization about to be obliterated by a giant friggin' monster! What's the conundrum here?"

"There are only two of us, we can't prevent what is going to happen to them. That little girl is all alone, she needs help. If we go to her, she might have a chance."

"Oh, yeah, what're we supposed to do, go 23 jumps to seach a whole damn planet for a signal that went dead thirty minutes ago? Yeah, that's a perfect idea."

They'd been arguing for two hours now, the Benatar drifting listlessly in space. The moment one of them had tried to choose a distress call to pursue, everything had fallen apart and things had heated up quickly. Now, Nebula had both hands planted firmly on the table, glaring across its surface to where Rocket was standing on top of it.

"Rocket, we are wasting time," Nebula said, her voice firm, "Your stubborness is getting people killed."

"And you goin' all weepy and moronical every time a friggin toddler shows up on the screen ain't helping!"

Rocket sneered at her, breathing hard as the silence between them stretched, the air venomous.

But the look on Nebula's face... she'd gone ridged, nails digging into the table like she was trying not to shatter. Slowly, Rocket's face fell as he caught his breath, hands unclenching at his sides.

He sighed.

"Okay," he said, looking away from her. She didn't move.

Dammit. Why did he always do that? Why did he always go for the throat? The way she was looking at him? It sucked.

Well.

"Okay... okay, how 'bout this. We go to whoever's closest. People all over the galaxy are callin' for help, no point goin' back an' forth from one end to the other like a couple of idiots."

For a moment, Nebula continue to stare at him.

Something in Rockets chest went tight.

Oh man... oh no. Oh no no no, please no.

Finally, she nodded stiffly. Rocket let go of a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Cool," he said, coughing, trying to push away the awkwardness, "Ah, glad we got that settled. Now," he jumped off the table and climbed back onto the chair in front of the screen, "Where we goin' first?"

Taking a deep breath, steadying herself, Nebula joined him at his side, swiping back to their location and clicking on the nearest planet. 58 distress calls appeared surrounding the small lit-up sphere.

"Goanfia 5," she said, "one jump away."

"Okay." Rocket said, jumping down from the chair, "Buckle up."

Chapter Text

The two Guardians of the Galaxy were on Hurndar, the 15th planet they'd landed on in two months. Their systematic selection of locations had gotten them into a variety of shitty situations. From putting out fires to killing marauders to reuniting people with what was left of their families, there was a lot of cleaning up to do.

It hadn't been pretty. The universe Thanos had left them with was chaotic and cruel. Without fail, no matter where they went, things were bad. Really bad.

This snow-covered planet was no different. The only thing standing between the small village behind them and the enormous fifty foot ice monster in front of them was, well, them.

"Nebula, look out!"

Nebula cried out, jumping to her right, just in time to get out of the way of the shard of ice that had been flying directly at her head.

"How 'bout you do us both a favor and try not getting murdered?" Rocket yelled at her from her right, shooting upwards with a gun that was bigger than his entire body.

"Oh shut up." Nebula rolled her eyes, firing her blasters, hitting the beast squarely in the chest. It barely made a dent.

In fact, in the fourty-five minutes they'd been trying to take this thing down, they hadn't seemed to have had much of an impact at all. The only thing that had been accomplished was a small scratch on Nebula's cheek and Rocket's aero-rig taking a nasty hit.

"This is pointless," Nebula said, raising her voice above the beast's screeches, "Our weapons are having no effect."

"Gimme a second!" Rocket shouted, taking the useless aerorig off

"What?!" Nebula shot the ice giant again, aiming for where its eye seemed to be.

"Just keep it distracted!" He said, ducking out of sight behind a high drift of snow.

Groaning in frustration, the Luphomoid ran to the left, away from Rocket, firing her blasters.

It had been a long day.

They'd left the planet Tellos, another crisis having been averted, two hours ago and immediately answered the distress call here. The Hurndarian warriors that had protected the village had been handicapped by the snap, half of them disappearing. Half of the planet's ice giants had disappeared too, but the problem here wasn't numbers. It was size.

Guarding the galaxy was turning out to be... a lot. Fortunately she and Rocket hand found a rhythm of sorts, at least when it came to actually doing their job. In between stops? Not so much.

Nebula hadn't spent much time in the company of people who didn't want her dead, she was in unfamiliar water.

And Rocket... he was not the person she had met all those years ago. They had spent very little time together in their two previous encounters, but he had left a very large impression for someone so small. Now? He was quiet. He hadn't smiled but maybe twice since they'd left Earth, and hadn't laughed at all.

And he was angry.

Most nights, if he didn't disappear into his quarters or it was his shift at the helm, he either stared into nothing and drank, or he ended screaming at Nebula. It didn't matter how minimal the irritant was, Rocket would find a reason to fight about, and damn right she'd fight back. It had gotten to the point where she hardly spoke to him at all, which was fine with her; she didn't know what to say anyway.

Oh well.

Ice shards rained down around Nebula from the giants gaping mouth, exploding as they hit the ground. Dodging them as best she could, Nebula countinued shooting, screaming with rage as her blasts failed over and over to penetrate it's ice hide.

"Any time now, Rocket!"

"Hold on, hold on, I got it!"

He stood up, grunting as he hoisted a truly massive gun up onto his shoulder. Nebula recognized pieces of the aero-rig intermingled with the gun he'd had.

Then Nebula, while she was looking at Rocket, took a hit.

The giant had chosen that moment to ball its clawed hand into a fist and bring it down on top of her.

"Nebula!"

The giant lifted its hand, revealing the mass of twisted blue limbs that she had become.

For a moment, the world went silent, the color seeming to disappear from his sight, as Rocket stared at the heap that was Nebula. Then, turning to the giant, he screamed.

Rage blinded him. He raised his gun.

FWOOM

A flash of green light blasted from the end of the gun, and the giant exploded.

For a moment all Rocket could do was stand still, breathing heavily. Then he turned to Nebula. She hadn't moved.

"No no no no no."

He ran to her, throwing the gun aside and falling to his knees, ignoring the blue, liquid innards of the giant raining down on him.

"No no no, Nebula, awe please man," he reached for her, a terrible sickening feeling pinching his stomach. "C'mon, do that thing, you gotta -"

Her eyes snapped open.

Rocket reared back with a startled yell, snatching his hands away, chest heaving as her body sprang and twisted grotesquely back together. All her pieces in place, she stood.

"Well that was fun."

And she spat out a mouthful of blue monster goo.

Rocket cringed, "That's disgusting."

Nebula looked around, "So the party ended without me."

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Rocket said. Damn she was weird. He stood and tried to wipe the goo off of his shirt. "Ah no, it's sticky! That's it, we're uppin' our pay here, man."

"Let's get outta here," she said, turning to head towards the village.

Rocket watched her walk away, swallowing hard, an all too familiar ache in his chest.

"Crap."

Chapter Text

The Guardians arrived back on the Benatar, units collected and no more major distress calls on the planet of Hurndar to address.

"Dibs on the first shower." Rocket said, voice low, tossing his enormous cobbled-together gun on the table and scratching at his matted fur, "I gotta get this blue shit offa me before I lose my frickin' marbles."

Nebula rolled her eyes and raised the gangplank; despite their victory today, and on top of that managing to weedle 200 extra units out of the Hurndarians, Rocket was already in a foul mood.

Carelessly she dropped her mangled blasters onto the table next to Rocket's gun and headed up to the deck. She leaned over the flight controls, not wanting to smear ice giant goo all over the pilot's seat she'd more or less chosen to be her own. Getting the engines going, she took off, leaving the frozen atmosphere of Hurndar behind and sailing through a jump point into neutral space.

Straightening up, Nebula looked through the massive windows in front of her, taking pause. A very long pause. The blues and yellows and purples of the galaxy danced, reflected, in her ink-black eyes.

Her world after the snap was so... strange. So foreign.

Since she had been a child, long before she could remember, Nebula had been a prisoner. Every day, she was thrown into combat, defeated, and then tortured. Every day, she was torn open, and mutilated, and separated into tiny pieces so that, bit by bit, nearly every part of her body was replaced. Trapped in the world Thanos had surrounded himself with, knowing only enemies and murderers and psychopaths, living that life for so long, Nebula had forgotten she was a prisoner in the first place. She was only a tool. A weapon.

Now, with her father dead, for the first time in her life? She was no longer afraid.

She would never see Thanos again. She would never again grovel at his feet for approval. She would never again be strung up like a puppet and pulled apart. She would never again look over her shoulder for the shadow of the man who had controlled her life with fear and pain and suffering.

Nebula was free, and now? She could look out on the universe with fresh eyes, even though the eyes were not her own.

As she returned to the common area, she contemplated the glorious view she was now afforded. Despsite the horrors she had seen, despite all that had been lost, it was beautiful.

"All yours."

Nebula's hand shot to her hip for a blaster that wasn't there.

Of course, it was only Rocket.

Nebula cleared her throat and relaxed her battle-posed body, embarrassed. Luckily, her companion was rooting around in the refrigerator, scrubbing at the damp fur on his head with a small towel and wearing a fresh set of clothes.

"Good luck," he said, finding what he was looking for; a very large, full bottle of alcohol, "Soaps all gone."

"Again." Nebula said with a glare.

"Yeah, again." Rocket said, a hint of nastiness creeping into his tone. He grabbed the neck of the bottle and shut the fridge, not looking at her as he took a seat at the table.

Nebula shook her head as Rocket twisted the bottle open. They had gotten more soap three stops ago, they should have had enough for the next two weeks. Everything in her was ready for another shouting match, but Nebula didn't take the bait; the hit she'd got from the giant was rough and, damn, she was tired.

She stomped past him as he took his first drink. Entering the washroom, she turned on the faucet, looking around

The soap was gone, the water was ice cold, and there was fur. Everywhere.

How could something so small lose so much hair and look exactly the same?

Disgusting.

Nebula was nearly shaking with rage. All she wanted to do was go back out to the stupid fox, grab the stupid bottle, and smash it over his stupid skull.

Instead, with a roar, she punched a dent in the wall.

"Hey!" Rocket called back, voice rough, "What the hell was that?!"

"Nothing."

Nebula slammed the door behind her and removed her sticky, stained clothing. After forty-five minutes of standing in a freezing jet of water, scraping her skin with her nails, Nebula was, for the most part, no longer sticky.

She was, however, more pissed than ever. One way or another, Rocket was going to clean up his mess. Nebula was nobody's maid and, now that she was clean, she was ready to fight.

"Rocket!" She shouted, pulling her shirt on as she stomped up to the common area. The object of her terrible rage was still seated at the table, his back to her, "That shower is an absolute stye, and I swear to you, if you don't go in there and... and... Rocket."

He didn't respond.

"... Rocket?"

He didn't shift from his slumped position. A lump of worry knotted itself in Nebula's throat. She tried to swallow past it. Quietly, slowly, she moved around the table until she was in front of him. Reaching across its dirty surface, she touched Rocket's shoulder and, lightly, shook him.

Rocket's head fell back against his chair as he moaned. His closed eyelids squeezed against the sudden exposure to the overhead lights, but they didn't open. After a moment of swaying precariously in his seat, he tipped forward limply onto the table with a thud.

Nebula blinked, straightening up. On the table to Rocket's left were his tools, spread out across the glass, one of her blasters partially reassemble amongst them. On his right, however, and quite a bit closer to him, was a large, empty bottle.

The Luphomoid felt sick. He had drank its entire contents, in less than an hour. It was a wonder he wasn't dead.

This had never happened before, and Nebula didn't know what to do.

Pulling out the chair across from him, she sank into it stiffly. For a long time she just watched him, her gaze focused on his small back as it rose and fell

Making sure he kept breathing.

Taking a deep breath, she made her decision, though she wasn't comfortable with it at all.

Standing abruptly, Nebula rounded the table and, very slowly so as not to wake him, lifted Rocket out of his chair.

He was heavier than he looked.

Carefully, Nebula carried Rocket to his room, pushing open his door and letting herself in. It felt... wrong to be in his room. Like it was a secret she wasn't supposed to know. She was thankful it was dark; as the lights were off, she couldn't see much outside of the shaft of light created by the open door. Locating his small bed, Nebula crossed the room and gently, so very gently, laid him down.

Rocket groaned as he hit the mattress.

"Nnnn.. nnneeemmm..."

She'd seen him drunk. Not like this. Crouching down to his level, she placed her hands on his jawline. After a moment of unsure hesitation, she turned his face towards her's.

If she had anything to do with it, Rocket would not die tonight.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Rocket exited his room and shuffled into the common area. Nebula was sitting at the table. She hadn't slept all night.

The small creature cast his bleary-eyed gaze on her for only a flash before quickly averting it as he rounded the corner, not saying a word as he held his head in his left hand and moved toward the small kitchen area. Clambering up onto the counter with a groan, Rocket pulled open a small door intergrated into the wall. Rifling around inside of if for a while, his small hand finally emerged holding a small vial of sludge-like liquid. He popped off its stopper and, in one gulp, consumed the orange contents completely.

Rocket squeezed his eyes shut and, coughing thickly, set the empty vial on the counter.

"Damn that's nasty," he said with a shudder, voice slightly rough.

Grunting, he vaulted down off the counter and joined Nebula at the table, scratching his cheek as his yawn revealed all of his small, pointed teeth

Nebula's eyes had not left him, not even for a moment.

Taking his seat, he finally looked at her again, a subtle glare playing on his face that to Nebula seemed like a quiet dare. She could almost hear his voice in her head: go on, bring it up, wanna see how it'll go down?

She was tempted, but only stared at him, expressionless. Barely perceptible, his upped lip curled into a smirk.

"So," he said, voice light, "where we headin' for next?"

*********

They were headed for Kallu.

Then Aldron Prime

Then Krylor, then Argo.

The two Guardians operated like a well-oiled machine; go to the next planet over, spend two or three days there answering as many distress calls as was feasible, get paid, and get moving.

There were six more incidents like the one that had gone down on Contraxia. A revenge-fueled attack on Nebula by another person whose life had been ripped apart by Thanos. Twice she had tried to dissuade them, to explain what had taken place, and twice her words had fallen on deaf ears. It was Rocket, every time, who placated the people who feared and hated her, always saying that she was a Guardian now, that she was with him, and that they'd just have to deal with that. Now, finally, it seemed like word had spread; every planet they went to, more and more of the sad eyes that followed them as they passed became tinted with a small, quiet hope.

It wasn't until they ended up on Tekton, three and a half months after the snap, that something went wrong.

The orphans on the planet, of which there were many, were disappearing. Almost all the calls were from people who had taken in a foundling and subsequently lost track of them.

It wasn't long before Rocket and Nebula found where the children were being taken to be trafficked. They were holed up in an abandoned government building, the ring run by Kree. Jobs with kids involved meant stealth, so Nebula and Rocket were moving quickly and silently, picking off the traffickers one by one, infiltrating deeper and deeper into the compound, until-

"INTRUDERS."

"Awe shit." Rocket rolled his eyes.

"I will find the children," Nebula said in her gruff voice. "Rocket."

He looked up at her as shouts from unseen Kree drew nearer and nearer. The depths of Nebula's black eyes danced like they were on fire.

"Inflict as much pain as you can. Kill them all."

Ears going flat against his head, Rocket grinned. Nebula nodded and was off.

Cocking his gun, Rocket snickered, "Aaaaah, I love this job."

With that, he activated his aerorig and flew into the fray.

Twenty-three minutes later, fifty-seven Kree were dead and 214 children had been shepherded outside.

And the entire compoud was on fire. Rocket smiled at the inferno, wiping blood off his hands; good, let it burn.

Nebula set the last of the children she'd carried from the building onto the ground, looking back at the out-of-control blaze.

"We good?" Rocket asked her.

As Nebula was nodding, a scream pierced the air.

The scream of a child.

For a beat, Rocket and Nebula stared at one another, him pleading with his expression that she not do what she was thinking.

She did it anyway.

"Nebula, no!" Rocket cried as she ran back into the building. He took a few steps after her, reaching out as if to grab her.

"... No."

She disappeared into the flames, like she'd never been there at all. Eyes wide, heart pounding painfully, Rocket waited...

And waited.

It felt like an eternity that he was staring into the fire, his chest tightening with every laboured breath.

"Awe man, c'mon." He whispered, and as if on cue, the roof caved it.

Utterly bewildered, Rocket's knees hit the ground as he gasped for air as though someone had punched him in the gut, his mind screaming no no no no no no no no.

Not again.

Then Nebula stumbled out of the collapsed building, shoving in front of her two small, sobbing and coughing children.

Relief flooded through Rocket just as air flooded his lungs, but it was short lived.

Nebula fell to the ground. She was burned black and deep, the musculature and circuity that made up her body exposed.

And she was screaming, low and ragged and rough.

"Shit," Rocket breathed, scrambling to his feet. He ran to Nebula, grabbing her under the shoulders as the fire singed his fur and smoke filling his lungs. He dragged her away from the building, coughing into his arm.

And Nebula was screaming, deep in her throat. Screaming and screaming and screaming.

"Just hold on," he said, pulling on her with all his might, teeth clenched with the effort, queasy from the smell.

After pulling her ten feet away from the blaze, Rocket crumpled to the ground next to her, completely spent and struggling to breath. The screaming had stopped. Rocket feared she was dead, but he couldn't move but to reach out and rest his hand on her chard shoulder.

Looking up into the sky, Rocket saw the small faces of children looking down at him, surrounding him.

"Get... help,'" he said weakly, then the world went dark

************

Nebula woke with a start, sitting up and immediately crying out.

A dull pain engulfed her. With the pain came back the memories; the look on Rocket's face as she dove back into the fire. The heat licking at her body, then biting as she found the two girls tucked away in a corner she could have sworn she'd checked. Then the heat was nawing as she fought her way back to life, tearing her flesh away with terrible, bright teeth. Before she reached the air, all she knew was agony.

That was okay. She was used to agony.

Now, breathing in the familiar air of the Benatar where she sat in bed in the sick bay, she took stock of her situation.

Her body was covered in bandages, many soaked through with her dark blue blood. Also all over her body were skin grafts, nearly invisible; she must have taken severe damage to her synthetic parts. On top of that, her entire left arm was gone.

Huh... she'd had worse.

It wasn't until she heard the groan from the other side of the door that she remembered what had awoken her.

A thud. A very loud thud, and then something shattered.

Oh no. Rocket.

Wincing, mumbling out muffled cries of pain, Nebula heaved herself from the bed and staggered to the door, throwing it open and ambling through the hallway to the common area.

"Rocket," grabbing hold of the wall with her remaining hand and gasping, Nebula pushed back her tears. She scanned the room hurriedly until, finally, her eyes found him.

He was moaning, his small body sprawled on the floor. Nebula's cybernetic left arm was lying on the floor next to him, tools scattered around it. Beside them, a toppled chair.

And next to Rocket's clawed right hand? The obliterated remains of a very large bottle.

"You have got to be kidding me." Nebula said lowly, rage boiling deep within her. With a cry of pain, she stumbled into the room and stood over him. A massive shard of glass sliced into her bare foot, but she paid it no mind: what was one more cut?

"Wake up." she hissed through gritted teeth.

Rocket mumbled, unmoving.

"Get up!" Nebula screamed down at him, throat raw and blistered, the taste of blood on her tongue.

Rocket twitched violently, eyes opening. It took a moment of his squinting eyes searching above him to focus on her. Confusion warped his face.

"Nebula?" His voice was scratchy, weak, "Wha-?"

She didn't let him speak. She had to get out of there quick, before something... unfortunate happened.

"When I see you again, you will be sober," she was trembling, fighting every instinct in her body that was telling her to hurt the small being that was staring up at her. He scuttled away from her, "If you are not, I swear, I will kill you."

The air between them went cold.

Rocket's eyes... it was the first time Nebula had seen fear in them while they were looking at her.

Nebula's eyes... through the film of alcohol, it was the first time Rocket had seen hate in them while they were looking at him.

Breathing deep through her nose, shoving away her pain, Nebula stalked down the hallway, blood oozing from the ball of her foot, slamming the medbay door behind her.

Chapter Text

The moment Nebula was alone, staggering back into the bed, her fury seeped from her. She hadn't meant what she said. She didn't want to kill him. The feeling that had overtaken her when she'd seen him drunk, passed out on the floor, was strongly familiar;

Fear, and her choices had been fight or flight. She'd gone with fight, like she always had.

The moment Rocket was alone, staring at the ceiling, he exhaled a shuddering sigh, painful from the damage the hot ash floating through the air had done to his throat. He knew she hadn't meant what she said, she didn't want to kill him. Still, there it was, clenching his heart, pumping blood through to his clawed fingertips;

Fear, and his choices had been fight or flight. He'd gone with flight, like he always had.

... shit.

When Rocket came into the medbay the next morning to change the dessings on Nebula's wounds and open up her new skin grafts to make some adjustments to her cybernetic inner-workings, the air was thick with the tension. Using a sort of fusion gun, the lines of the grafts disappered, smoothing out and blending in perfectly with her skin.

Lastly, he reattached her arm, nimble fingers flitting around as though he'd done it a thousand times.

Nebula had prepared herself for pain as he worked on her body. None came. She felt something... sharp in her chest.

"Need somethin' for the pain?" Rocket asked, voice scratchy, disinfecting his soiled hands while his copper eyes stayed pointedly fixed to the floor.

Nebula, on the other hand, had been watching him.

"It is fine," she said, voice low.

"C'mon, man, I ain't ever seen burns like the ones you got. I can't..." He cleared his throat, "Just take somethin', alright?"

After a long pause, Nebula nodded. Rocket nodded too.

"Okay," he said quietly.

Rifling through a drawer next to the bed, Rocket pulled out a sheet of small, blue dots. Taking one, he hesitated, then climbed up onto the table and stuck it at the base of her neck. As he did so, he finally looked up at her.

Their eyes met, Nebula releasing a sharp exhale of relief as the medication flooded instantly thoughout her body

Though far less potent, the strange heat that had run through Rocket at the compound flowed again. Hurriedly, he looked away.

"You been in here a day," he said, vaulting down to the floor, "you should be good tomorrow."

Immediately he departed, closing the door behind him.

Indeed she was good the next day. Removing the unsoiled bandages, she went to her quarters, pulled on fresh clothes, and headed to the communal area. There was no blood on the floor, no knocked over chair. Any signs of their... moment were gone.

Rocket was standing on his chair in front of the screen, sifting through distress calls back on Krylor.

"Looks like we're backtrackin'," he said, clicking on one call after another.

"What is it?" Nebula asked, joining him. Rocket quickly glanced at her.

"More missing kids. Looks like this might become a thing."

Nebula instantly turned from him and the screen, heading directly to the flight deck.

"Okay," Rocket said, looking at the pained faces in each video on the frequency and ignoring the slight ache in his head, "Time to save the day."

********

They did not talk about the incident on Tekton.

Nor did they talk about the next five benders he went on in the following two months. On each night that Nebula found him huddled with an empty bottle or two, she turned his head so that when he vomited (which he'd done twice) he wouldn't drown and, aside from checking on him thoughout the night, left him alone.

She didn't know what else to do.

No more screaming, no more carrying him to bed, and the next morning, as he treated his hangover and went to the screen, she acted like it hadn't happened at all.

Until, that is, after their last of six jobs back on Contraxia, taking down another band of child traffickers.

It had, in fact, become a trend.

Nebula had taken a nasty shot to the chest from a Kree trafficker. She lay gasping for breath as Rocket arrived by her side, standing in front of her, yelling and spraying blasts from his enormous gun as her body readjusted and she stood. Five minutes after that, the battle was won. They collected their units and headed back towards the Benatar.

"Hey man," Rocket said, backing away from Nebula towards town, "we gotta fuel up before we take off. I'll be back in a bit, then we'll get our butts outta here."

"Whatever," Nebula said huskily, expression blank as she turned away from him and kept walking.

Rocket watched her go curiously, then went back to the city.

Pulling up the gangplank, Nebula set her blaster on the table, then slapped a medpack on her injured chest. It was a device Rocket had designed a week ago, and was turning out to be invaluable. Healing her wound practially instantly, she grabbed a piece of softening fruit from the small kitchen, sat down at the communal table, and waited.

For two hours she sat staring at the gangplank, her anger rising.

Finally, with a deep sigh, she resigned herself; for the second bender in a row, Rocket wasn't coming back tonight.

She grabbed her tools and did some maintenance on her left hand. Then she wandered around, picking up her contribution to the mess that often accumulated around their ship. Then, she was bored. And alone.

Looking around, Nebula's eyes fell onto the Zune. Slowly, she walked across the room to it.

Rocket hadn't touched it since the day they'd left Earth. Gazing curiously at it, hesitating just a moment, Nebula jabbed a finger at a the large circular button on the clunky, rectangular device.

She jumped a little as music fill the air around her.

Well, the moon is broken and the sky is cracked
Come on up to the house
The only things that you can see is all that you lack
Come on up to the house

All your crying don't do no good
Come on up to the house
Come down off the cross, we can use the wood
You gotta come on up to the house

Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house

The man's voice was strange, harsh yet beautiful. Nebula stood by the Zune and listened, the focus leaving her eyes as she absorbed the words.

There's no light in the tunnel, no irons in the fire
Come on up to the house
And you're singing lead soprano in a junkman's choir
You got to come on up to the house

Does life seem nasty, brutish and short
Come on up to the house
The seas are stormy and you can't find no port
Got to come on up to the house, yeah

The things the man was saying... they made her sad.

"Shut it off."

Nebula turned around. Rocket had just entered the room, the gangplank closing behind him with a clang. His eyes were daggers staring into her's, pupils blown. She had never noticed how firey the brown of them was. There were more important things to focus on, however; his lips were pulled back over his sharp teeth, and he was clearly drunk, swaying back and forth ever so slightly where he stood.

And he had his gun pointed directly at her.

Nebula froze, heart racing.

"Rocket-"

"I said shut it off."

Shifting his aim high above the Luphomoid's right shoulder, Rocket cocked his gun and squeezed the trigger. The speaker set up in the corner, one of many littering the corners of the Benatar, exploded, raining down metal and wires.

Nebula didn't move as the debris fell around her, on her. The gun swiveled back to her, Rocket glaring, chest heaving.

Ever so slowly, not breaking her gaze away from Rocket's for a moment, Nebula reach back behind herself and pushed the button again.

Silence.

Rocket dropped his gun, it clunking loudly as it hit the ground. Paying Nebula no more attention, he went to the refrigerator. Finding the huge bottle of booze he'd been looking for, he shut the door and turned around.

Nebula had gone around the table and picked up her blasters, standing between him and his gun. They were trained on him.

Rocket stared at her dumbfounded for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed.

"This isn't a joke, Rocket." She said through her clenched teeth.

He kept laughing nastily.

"Oh, yeah, it's very serious."

"Put the bottle down."

"No," he spat, the feigned humor dropping from him in a flash, replaced by a vicious snarl.

"Rocket," Nebula pleaded, eyes narrowed at her target, "please, you must stop this. If you don't, you're going to do something stupid, something you won't be able to undo."

"Pfft," Rocket scoffed, opening the bottle with a sneer.

"Rocket, you're better than this. I know it. Gamora knew-"

The bottle shattered on the floor.

"Keep. Her name. Outta your frickin' mouth!" He yelled.

Nebula's jaw clapped shut. Rocket was breathing heavily, his hands pulled back, fingers curled, ready to scratch her. Teeth bared ready to bite her.

"You don't get to say her name," he said, voice dropping, shaking, "You don't get to say any of their names. You don't touch any of their shit. I don't wanna hear a single word about them come out of a daughter of fuckin' Thanos."

Pain shattered Nebula's heart. A scream, erupting from deep inside of her tore out of her soul as her blasters started heating up in her trembling hands.

Rocket remained unmoved.

Nebula was shaking as rage and anguish battled inside of her, eyes burning with tears she didn't want to shed. Letting her blasters clatter to the floor, she turned away, dropped the gangplank, and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Text

It was mere seconds after Nebula left his sight that deep, sticky regret permeated his foolish, drunken mind.

As Rocket tried to catch his breath, the feral expression on his face melted away. His eyebrows knitted together, ears laying flat, mouth falling open as he stared at the spot he'd last seen Nebula.

"... What did I do."

But of course he knew what he had done. He had done it many times before.

The words of Yondu Udonta rang through his head;

Just a little bit of love reminds you of how big and empty that hole inside you actually is.

Nebula. Awe man.

Rocket closed his eyes to the pinpricks of pain behind them

No.... no.

No.

He sniffed away the tears in his throat, mind going to the other bottle of strong alcohol in the refrigerator, hands clenched at his sides, mouth watering at the mere idea of it. Man, the thought of just forgetting about Nebula. Forgetting about everyone. Everything.

Just... going limp. Going to sleep. It sounded so good. It sounded like going home.

But when Rocket opened his eyes? The object that was before him, ready to be taken hold of and consumed, was not a bottle of booze.

It was the Zune.

Time felt frozen around him. Every muscle, every fiber of his being, wanted to avert his gaze from the Terran device. He couldn't help shut them, letting the world go dark.

But behind his eye lids?

All of his friends, turning to dust and drifting away into nothing. He saw it in his mind all the time, but this go around? Nebula was there, and she disappeared too.

He opened his eyes, a sharp breath pulling into his lungs.

"Okay, Pete." Rocket said shakily, taking heavy, reluctant steps to the Zune. Hand trembling, he picked it up for the first time since... well, since.

"Okay."

*******

Nebula had nowhere else to go but back to the Benatar.

She'd stormed off to a bar deep within the city, ferociously wiping wetness away from her eyes as she went. Shots and drinks had poured into her grasp, but no matter how much alcohol she imbued, her rage overtook it.

No... not rage. Ultimately, she didn't want to give her heartbreak a name, but there is was, plain as day.

Heartbreak.

She'd thought, in spite of everything... well, she'd just thought.

The Guardian'd tried to pay her tab, but the barkeep had waved her off. More and more, as she traveled the galaxy with her... damn, after being held at gunpoint by him, friend didn't feel good to say anymore.

Her acquaintance.

Whatever Rocket was, Nebula hadn't paid for much of anything in weeks.

Because Rocket had been telling people all over the galaxy that she wasn't a daughter of Thanos. She had almost started to believe him.

Unfortunately, before she knew it, the bar was closing. Suddenly she was out on the street in the darkest hours of the night, and yes, there was only one place she could go.

The moment she reluctantly lowered the gangplank of the Benatar was the moment her world filled with music.

... What?

With great caution she boarded the ship, melodious words swirling in the air

... horse, he kept running, the rider was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head

There was no sign of Rocket as she looked around the communal area. Thankfully, no guns in sight. No small figure draped over a chair or splayed on the floor. Slowly, Nebula moved deeper into the ship, tense and on guard, keeping-

She was thrown off her balance as the Benatar sailed up out of the atmosphere of the planet, cascading through two jumps out into the depths of the Andromeda galaxy.

All the while, the words were sung;

.
... I kept on running into the south lands
That's where they found me, my head in my hands

The sheriff he asked me why had I run
And then it came to me, just what I had done
And all for no reason, just one piece of lead
I hung my head, I hung my head

Well, somebody was flying the ship. As she listened to the lyrics floating through the hull of the Benatar, Nebula's apprehension turned to worry.

I felt the power of death over life
I orphaned his children, I widowed his wife
I begged their forgiveness, I wish I was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I hung my head, I hung my head

Finally, she found him.

Rocket was sat in a pilot's seat in front of the great window of the Benatar, the expanse of the endless and beautiful vastness of space for him to behold. Depsite the splendor before him, Rocket's eyes were fixed on the foreign, blocky object held in his lap. Nebula made not a move. She listened.

Early one morning with time to kill
I see the gallows up on the hill
And out in the distance, a trick of the brain
I see a lone rider crossing the plain

And he'd come to fetch me, to see what they'd done
And we'll ride together to kingdom come
I pray for God's mercy, for soon I'll be dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I hung my he-

The music cut out.

Nebula winced. She had hoped not to be discovered.

Well... She relaxed her posture, accepting whatever was to come.

Here we go.

Rocket heaved a deep sigh, then looked out into the infinity of space.

"I called them morons."

Nebula kept silent. Finally, he seemed ready to talk;

"That's the last thing I ever said to 'em. Drax, Gamora, Quill, the bug chick... I told them all they were morons. Like a jerk. And Quill..."

Rocket looked down, closing his eyes, voice thick;

"He called me a coward. He said I was runnin' away, that I went with Thor just cause I wanted to get to wherever Thanos wasn't." With a sniff, Rocket opened his eyes and looked down at the Zune in his hands, "Maybe he was kinda right."

Nebula stepped onto the deck, taking the stairs down to the seat across the way from Rocket's.

"I was scared. And when we were all on Terra, and Thanos was there with his dumb-ass gauntlet, I..." Rocket's eyes squeezed shut, tears wetting the fur on his face, "I didn't fight. I didn't help. I didn't do anything. I just stood there, outta the way, watchin' as everybody else in the world failed to take 'im down. And Groot..."

A bitter, pained, proud smile stretch Rocket's face as he looked into the stars.

"Groot fought. He went right in on it, man. He didn't wait for anybody to tell him to do it, he just... he just gave it his all, did what he had to do to save the stupid frickin' universe."

Rocket paused, so long Nebula thought he might be through, but he kept going.

"When he... ya know, Groot, after Thanos... he called me dad."

Damn.

"He'd been acting like a real dick for a while, been callin' me Rocket for about half a' year. He... he was so confused. So afraid, and before I could get to him, he was gone."

Rocket's small shoulders shuddered as his grip on the Zune tightened.

"This is all my fault, Nebs. Maybe if I stayed it woulda been different, but I didn't do shit to stop it. I ran, like I always do. I lost my family. I lost my kid. All because I was afraid."

Nebula didn't dare speak. Rocket inhaled deeply.

"Listen, man. I ain't too good at this sorta thing, but I haven't said a right thing my whole life, and I'm sick of runnin' away."

Rocket finally turned to Nebula, a severity in his eyes that she'd never seen before.

"You're a tough guy Nebs, you really are, but you ain't indestructible."

Finally, Nebula understood.

Each time she had gotten hurt, each time she'd taken a hit that had broken some piece of her, Rocket had disappeared into a bottle.

He was scared.

"I..." he looked away from her, his clawed fingers fiddling with the Zune, "I don't have anybody. They're all gone. I can't lose you too."

He looked up at her, a pleading in his eyes she'd never seen before. A thickness in her throat, Nebula nodded.

Chapter Text

"Hm hmhmhm hmhm.
Deh dehdeh dehdehdeh...
I had flashes
But you saw the plan
Hm hmhm hmhmhm world for years,
You just stayed in your room

From the counter in the kitchen she was leaning on, Nebula looked up at where Rocket was sitting on a box in the corner of the room, his head bobbing slightly to the music.

Ever since he'd picked up the Zune two weeks ago, it was a rare thing for there not to be music playing on the Benatar. She had gotten used to his singing, especially when he was working on a project, which seemed to be the norm between stops now. His voice wasn't particularly good, there were definitely songs he sang better than others, but the way some of the tunes made him smile, relaxed him...

Undoubtedly, her small companion was much more bearable this way. Before they'd had their... conversation, there were moments that she had worried that she'd made a mistake. But after they'd talked, something seemed to have shifted.

It helped, too, that for the last two weeks, Nebula, for the first time, was being somewhat careful.

The first thing Rocket had done the day after they talked was fix the speaker he'd shot.

Today, his hands were twisting this way and that, occasionally extending into the inner workings of the Benatar he had exposed, ripping something out and incorporating it into the thing spinning erratically in his hands.

"You climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet, BOOM,
Blazing your traihehehehe, I love that part."

Nebula laughed through her nose and turned away from him, going back to cleaning her blasters as she picked at the food at her elbow.

A few minutes later -

"Hey Nebs."

He'd been calling her that for a while. She wasn't wholly sure how she felt about it, hinging on irritated and accepting of it.

"What."

"What was that one song you had goin' the other day? Do that one."

"That is extremely non-specific. How am I supposed to know what song to put on if you can't tell me what it is?"

"Well," Rocket said, voice pitched up as he squinted, "it sorta went like doooooo dodo do do, bah da da da da da."

'What the hell am I supposed to do with that?!" said the Luphomoid, her voice rising slightly in exasperation.

"Hey, at least I can remember some of it, why I gotta be the one keepin' track of all this crap? You chose it!"

"So?!"

"So it ain't my fault that idiotic blue head a' your's can't retain a song it heard twelve hours ago."

"You can't remember either."

"Dude."

"What?!"

"Just pick a frickin' song and push the button already!"

Nebula rolled her eyes and strode over to the Zune, picking it up and going through its contents as Rocket turned back to his project, scowling.

After a moment, one of the songs caught her attention. She pushed play and they listened to the intro. About ten seconds in, Rocket grinned.

"Yeah."

Shake down, 1979
Cool kids never had the time
On a live wire, right up off the street
You and I should meet

"Who's singin'?"

Nebula looked at the screen of the Zune.

"The... Smashing Pumpkins." She said flatly.

"That's a badass name."

"What's a pumpkin?"

"Who cares, they're smashing 'em, so - " electricity buzzed, "OW!"

Nebula looked up to see Rocket trying to shake the pain out of his hand, eyes squeezed shut and lower lip between his teeth.

"The humie tech that Stark guy or whatever crammed in all over the ship is friggin' terrible. This is the third hunk of garbage I've hadda pull outta here. Look at this, what is even the point of this?"

Rocket held up a slightly chard piece of machinery, clearly of Earth. A strange defensiveness sprang up in Nebula. Suddenly she felt very... exposed, and looked back down.

"He was fun."

"Stark?"

"Yes."

Rocket turned around on the box to look at her again, eyebrows knitted curiously, "Yeah? Like what, like fun how?"

Nebula hesitated, looking down at the floor, shifting nervously on her feet.

"We played a game."

"A game." Rocket said flatly, "I didn't.... whoa."

Nebula looked up. Rocket was staring at the screen, mouth open in awe. He got up, running to it and climbing up onto his chair. She joined him.

"What...."

Millions of distress calls were popping up around the planet Argo. Rocket tapped its glowing blip on the screen, eyes darting around as more and more came in, faster and faster, covering every available space in front of them.

Then, they all disappeared.

"We have to go," Nebula said gruffly.

"Yep."

Both of them ran to the flight deck, throwing themselves into their chairs, neither of them bothering with their seat belts as their hands flew across the controls.

Quickly the coordinates were set.

"Hold on," Rocket yelled, and blasted through the three jump points to Argo, teeth clenched as he pushed the Benatar to her limits.

They arrived in six seconds. They were too late, but in time to see what looked like a warship leave through a jump point.

At first, all they could do was stare.

"No." Rocket breathed. He moved robotically, getting out of his seat and walking to the window. Nebula followed, heart encased in ice.

Argo was gone. In its place, obliterated pieces of planet were scattering outward from its point of destruction.

And there were bodies, millions of them, drifting through open space. Some whole, some shredded, some burnt to a crisp. Without a doubt, there was not a single Argon left alive.

"What happened...?" Rocket held his hands out, palm up, as if hoping someone might give him something different to look at.

"Genocide."

Nebula felt sick. Stomach heaving, she tore her eyes from the decimated civilization, staggering up the stairs. When she reached the communal area, she dropped to her hands and knees.

She heaved again, back arching as her empty stomach contracted. Tears brimmed, then spilled from her eyes, her breath coming in long, ragged pulls.

Rocket had followed. He watched her, silently.

"This.... is my fault," she said through gasps, unable to catch her breath.

"Hey man, don-"

"Shut up."

Rocket took a step back.

"It is.... All my life I stood by Thanos. I followed him from planet to planet, witnessed murder after murder. More genocides than I can count. And I helped."

"Dude. You ain't a daughter of Thanos." Rocket said firmly.

"No," she said, getting unsteadily to her feet, hand gripping the back of a chair for support, "But I was. I spent every moment of my life vying for his approval, practically begging for his love... the love of a monster who caused me nothing but ceaseless pain. I took countless lives. And I wanted to."

She straighened up, wiping the small dribble of bile from her chin with the back of her wrist. Blinkingly, she stared at the floor.

"All the years I was by his side, not once did I try to stop him," she could hardly keep speaking, but after a moment she looked at Rocket, tears still sliding down her cheeks, "I didn't say a word. I may as well have snapped myself."

A lump had risen in Rocket's throat. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to fix this.

He resorted to the basics.

"You wanna blow up a moon?"

Nebula looked at him confusedly, then nodded.

********

"Okay," Rocket said, spacesuit on as he joined her on top of the Benatar, voice crackling in her ear, "the scanners say that this moon here don't affect the planet at all, and it should be far away enough so we don't spook 'em. You're good to go."

Nebula nodded at him, then looked at the moon, hoisting the gun that was basically a cannon to her chest.

"You are sure this will work?" She asked.

"Oh. Yeah, it'll work." Rocket said, crossing his arms and grinning deviously at her target.

She nodded again, then squeezed the triggers.

A bolt of light brust from the tip of the gun and, silently, hit the moon.

It exploded.

One second there was a moon, the next? It was gone, turned into what looked like a field of stars spreading across the galaxy.

"Beautiful." Rocket said, just above a whisper as Nebula let the gun fall to her side.

Silently, she agreed.

They watched the moon disperse for a long while, then Nebula turned away, walking along the ship and going back inside. After a moment, smiling, Rocket followed.

When he got back inside and took off his spacesuit, he found Nebula seated at the table, chin resting on arms crossed on its surface. She looked... better, but miserable.

Rocket sighed, muttering, "Alright," to himself, "let's see how I do this time."

He pulled out a chair beside her, taking a seat.

"Ya know, you've done a lot of crappy things."

Nebula looked at him sharply.

"You have," he reaffirmed, "like, really bad... but, I mean, so have I."

Something in Nebula's expression softened.

"I've hurt a lot of people," he said, eyes unfocusing as he looked away from her, "got a lot of people hurt. Said a lot of mean things to people that... maybe didn't deserve it."

He looked back at her.

"Everybody's got stuff like that. You just got a little more than most people."

Nebula looked at him skeptically.

"Yeah, okay, a lot more. But all this? The universe and all that? That isn't your fault. You were just on the wrong side. The point now is, you ain't anymore."

The tight fist around Nebula's heart sort of... loosened.

"You're here, with me, guarding the galaxy. We're doin' a lot of good for a lot of people. That's the thing that matters now. Cool?"

Nebula's breathed out slowly. Brow furrowed, she nodded.

"Cool," Rocket slid off of his chair, "Now c'mon, we gotta go find a moon."

She watched him go, puzzled.

"But we have already destroyed one."

"You destroyed one. It's my turn. What, I can't have a turn blowin' up a moon?"

Nebula couldn't help it. She smiled.

Chapter Text

"Thank you, daughter. Perhaps I treated you too harshly."

The axe cut his head from his body, hot blood splattering Nebula's cheek. Her gaze dropped as tears welled in her eyes.

"Or perhaps not."

Startled, she looked up. Her father's head was staring at her, eyes clouded with death.

"Of all my daughters, you have always been the weakest. Always been the disappointment, the one I could never bring myself to love. It might have been best if I had not saved you. Better to have let you die."

"Yes father," she said, voice low, and she knelt down to him, kissing his cheek and closing his eyes.

That's when Nebula's tearful eyes opened.

Seven months into this new life, the nightmares were as frequent as ever. They were almost always about him.

She lay there in her bed, staring at the wall, hating herself for the thoughts in her head. Why? Why couldn't she just hate him completely? Why was he always in her head? Why couldn't she forget?

Then there was music, not playing over the speakers this time, bit leaking in through her door.

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm gettin' old, and I need something to rely on
So, tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm gettin' tired, and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Slowly, Nebula sat up and for a moment considered her next move. Pushing off her blankets, she pulled on some pants and, quietly, left her room.

Rocket was sitting on the table, one leg swinging lazily over the edge, a small glass of something next to him. In his hands was a bit of tech he'd been working on hours ago, but as Nebula watched him, she realized that he was simply disassembling and reassembling it, eyes completely unfocused.

After hesitating a bit, Nebula stepped further into the room. Rocket stirred, blinking, as if coming out of a trance, and looked at her.

"Hey." He said picking up his glass and taking a small sip.

"Hey."

Nebula looked at a chair, then back at him. Glancing where she had looked, he jerked his head and, with a swipe of his clawed fingertip, turned down the music and invited her to join him.

"How's it goin'?" He asked, going back to his twisting and turning of the thing in his hands.

"I can't sleep," she lied, taking a seat across from him.

"Yeah, me neither."

Silence fell between them, Nebula lost in thought, Rocket gone tense wondering to himself whether or not he should ask the question on his mind. After a few minutes, he decided yes.

"Bad dreams?"

She looked up, her misty eyes finding him. Her mouth was a tight line, tired eyes suddenly very sad. Rocket looked sideways at her, nervous he'd screwed up and overstepped.

Finally, "Yes."

"Yeah," he said, looking back down at the thing he was fiddling with.

Nebula's eyes stayed trained on him for a beat, then drifted away again. Comfortable, contemplative silence fell again, then Rocket considered another quiestion;

"You, ah... you wanna talk about it?"

His fellow Guardian continued to stare forward, and Rocket worried he'd definitely maybe overstepped this time...

"They are about my father,' she said, voice flat, "Always the same. His last moments alive playing out in my head... but his words are cruel. Like they always were."

"Huh" Rocket muttered, "Yeah. I can see how that could kinda be a bummer."

Her head snapped to him. For a moment Rocket thought she was angry, but it seemed that mostly she was surprised.

She nodded. Silence fell.

"Me too," Rocket said.

Nebula didn't know what to say, didn't know if she should ask. It seemed only fair, though.

"What are they about?"

"... Groot. He was right in front of me when he disappeared. But sometimes it's not just him. It's the guys too."

Again, she didn't know what to say.

"On Titan." Rocket's hands had stopped moving. His voice was unsteady. "What happened?"

It was a subject they had both decided, without telling the other, to avoid. As Nebula put her thoughts together, a burning sensation built behind her eyes.

"We almost had it off of him. The gauntlet
We had him pinned, the insect wom -"

"Mantis."

Nebula looked up at him. Rocket had turned fully to face her.

"Mantis. She had done something to him, he couldn't move. Then Quill found out about Gamora, that she was already dead. He got angry. Everything fell apart. Then Strange gave my father the time stone... and the..." she took a deep breath, "Mantis disappeared first. She felt it coming. Then Drax. Then Star-Lord. Then a child. Tony Stark and I, we were the only ones left."

The fur beneath Rocket's eyes was wet with tears, face distorted with distress.

"It was Quill's fault?"

Nebula hesitated, but it felt wrong to lie.

"Yes."

Rocket closed his eyes to it.

"Awe Pete."

Head bowed, he turned away from her. She knew what he was thinking, that if he had been there...

He sniffed, tears still coming, hands gripping his knees. "It's so damn quiet around here."

She, too, let her tears fall, "Yes it is."

Rocket reached across the table to her. She reached back, enclosing his small hand in her's.

Chapter Text

In the ten months after the snap, the Guardians of the Galaxy hadn't been in a fix quite this bad.

"Nebula, go!" Rocket yelled, pivoting around mid stride to face their pursuers as Nebula kept running.

Skidding across the sand to a halt, she looked back at him, "There are too many of them."

"Just get the ship ready, they'll tear it apart if they get to it! I got this!"

"Rocket -"

"Go!"

Groaning through gritted teeth, Nebula tore herself away, feet fumbling across the sand the short distance to the Benatar. As she reached the gangplank, she took a hit and screamed.

Rocket didn't hear her as the hoard of massive, gun toting Rarnox closed in on him, and fast. He didn't like that; guns were one thing, the size of their claws was another.

Rocket holstered his gun on his back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something he'd been working on.

"Alright, time for a little trial by fire."

Despite his uncertainty, Rocket grinned as he clicked the remote on. If it worked, he was pretty sure it was gonna awesome. He threw the metal ball high and far into the midst of the approaching douchebags and, as it neared the ground, pressed the button.

VZZZZZZOOOOM

Hundreds of bolts of electricity shot out from the sphere, half of his pursuers seizing as the shock coursed through their bodies.

Rocket cackled, "Aaaah, okay, not bad."

With that he was off for the ship, far more distance now between him and the Rarnox.

"Let's get outta here!" He yelled, closing the gangplank behind him.

Moments later they had entered space, six jumps away from their enemies.

Rocket smiled as he pulled his gun off of his back, setting it down on the table.

"Woo! We are not gettin' paid for that one."

Something clattered loudly to the ground behind him, followed by what sounded like a muffled moan. Looking around, he saw Nebula, clutching her leg next to a toppled table. The look on her face...

"Uh, are you good?"

Closing her eyes, biting her lower lip, she nodded... which turned to her rapidly shaking her head from side to side as a sob wracked through her.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, what is it?"

Breath laboured, she pulled her hand away from her leg, sending Rocket's heart pounding.

Directly above her right knee there was a hole, clear through to the other side. Blood was dribbling out of it, exposed flesh and metal and frayed, sparking wires sticking out at all angles.

"Oh shit."

Voice ragged, and finally giving up on holding it in, Nebula screamed, low and horrible. She fell against the wall, shaking as her leg gave out.

"Hey!" Rocket rushed forward, taking her arm and guiding her as best he could to the floor as she groaned from the pain; he was small, and it wasn't easy.

"I can't fix it," she hissed, writhing as he laid her down, clutching his arm in a death grip, "I can't fix it."

"Hold on!" Rocket wriggled out of her grasp and practically leapt away, landing on all fours. He ran to his room, skidding across the floor as he grabbed up his tools and scrambled back out into the hallway.

All the while, Nebula was crying out in anguish.

"Okay, I got ya," he slid in next to her, breathless, dropping his tools on the floor, "It's good, it's gonna be good."

But Nebula couldn't hear him. She was groaning, cradling her leg. Rocket tried to bat her hands out of the way, but she struggled, rocking back and forth.

"Nebs, man, chill out! I can't see it, I can't fix it, hands outta the way!"

She couldn't stop moving, her cries mounting and more blood trickling from her wound. Rocket wrestled her hands, ears flattening against his head, finally capturing her wrists tight as she struggled to cover her leg.

"Nebula!"

Whimpering, she looked up at him.

"You hafta hold still. I got this."

Her eyes locked onto his. The pain she was in, Rocket could hardly stand it. Chest heaving, lips trembling, she nodded. Slowly, Rocket let go of her wrists. Tears dripping from her cheeks, her shaking hands clenched then fell by her sides.

He got to work.

Small fingers flitted around her knee. The bleeding was stopped, the wires reconnected in a few seconds. Within a minute, her parts were all inside.

Gradually, her moans of pain lessened.

"Alright, I got us halfway there, can ya get up?"

"Yes," Nebula panted.

"Okay, prove it."

She rolled her eyes and, groaning deep in her throat, struggled to her feet.

"Get movin'," he said, his small hands hovering near her calve to offer her some semplance of support as she hobbled her way against the wall down the hallway, "get your butt up on the table. I told you ya weren't indestructible."

"Oh piss off." Collapsing onto the bed, Nebula heaved her useless leg up off the ground, gingerly setting it down. With every move, she gasped through her teeth. Rocket, dragging a chair over, sidled up next to her, sticking a blue dot on her neck. She heaved a strained sigh of relief as the pain subsided.

Man, her leg was mangled.

Jumping off the chair, he hurried over to the drawers full of medical paraphernalia, but as he grabbed out his fusion gun, he paused.

He'd helped her once before with her wounds, but she was completely unconscious, didn't really have a choice. This time around, he wasn't so sure his assistance was welcome

"I, uh..." Rocket scratched at the fur on his cheek, back still turned to his fellow Guardian, "I got a' couple a' things to do here with that friggin' hole in your leg, if you're cool with me gettin' to it."

Nebula's head jerked up at him. What had he said? As question? This was all so... confusing. She had been picked at and pulverized, torn to pieces her whole life, no matter the location on her body, and not once was she asked permission.

Everything inside of her was pleading with her to say no. Touch was something that her whole life her brain had been trained to fear. Trained that it meant pain and loss. Trained that it meant saying goodbye to one more part of herself and having it replaced by machinery.

But as her declination played on the tip of her tongue, she remembered; Rocket had already touched her.

It had never hurt. Not once. And now, as she looked at Rocket waiting for her answer, giving her every opportunity to decline if she pleased, something inside of her... shifted.

"Yes."

Rocket raised his eyebrows.

"Okay," he said collecting the rest of the tools he needed and going back to Nebula's side. Climbing back up onto the chair, Rocket set his instruments on the small table next to him and looked at her. The look in her eyes could only be describe as two things.

Nervous, yeah... but trusting.

Ricket lookes down at her wounded appendage. Her insides... they were a mess. Not just the wound, but around it, the mechanisms and modifications that kept her body running were a jumbled, clumsy mess. Rocket had noticed last time he'd tinkered around her, and just like last time, he had to be very, very careful.

Taking a deep breath, he dove in.

*******

Rocket pushed play, turning the Zune way down as the songs intro played out, until it was barely a whisper emanating from the speakers. He needed something to steady himself if he was gonna do what he planned to do.

Trust in me, baby
Give me time, gimme time, um gimme time.
I heard somebody say, oh
"The older the grape, sweeter the wine, sweeter the wine

It had taken Rocket about ten minutes to fully stitch Nebula's leg up. Now she was good as new... well, better, actually. He hadn't meant to, it was practially instinctual, but as he put her back together he had made a few, well, corrections.

The way she was built inside? There was no way it was comfortable.

So, thirty minutes after they'd left the medbay, he got some food and joined her at the table where she was hunched ungracefully over her dinner. Discretely he watched her, contemplating the best way to navigate the situation in front of him, get his footing, as the music only he could hear tinted the quiet.

Unfortunately, Rocket wasn't the most couth guy in the galaxy.

"How's the leg?" He asked as causally as he could, cracking open his food pack.

"It is better."

Nodding, he stared down at the food packet, thumbing its edge. Here goes.

"You know, that tech inside you, all those mods you got?"

Nebula looked up from her food.

"They're pretty crap."

Eyes widening, her back straightened.

"Yeah," Rocket continued, "Whoever put 'em in was a moron. Clearly had no idea what the heck they were doin'. Doesn't look too comfy, all that stuff situated in ya wrong."

He finally looked up at her. The expression on her face wasn't angry. More curious.

"It is not," she said huskily.

"Uh huh." He moved forward carefully now. These types of conversations, exposing and personal, they always made him uncomfortable. He'd had two or so of them with Nebula now, it never felt easy, "Where, uh, where does it hurt?"

She and Rocket gazed at each other. Hands balled into fists on the table, she looked like she was barely holding on. Like her heart was breaking. For some reason, it put a hot ball of anger in Rocket's stomach. Like he could kill a guy. With his bear hands.

A very specific guy.

"Everywhere." She said, her low voice quiet, "All the time."

Rocket nodded. He knew something akin to that feeling. They both looked down at their food, not eating. Silence fell between them. Despite their conversation, it was not uncomfortable. Just terribly, terribly heavy.

"Ya know," Rocket said finally, "if you want... I can maybe help with that. Kinda fix up what's not so good. Maybe we can get rid of some a' the pain."

"... What?" Nebula's voice was quivering.

"Only if you want." He said hurriedly, eyes finding her's again, "If you're good with what you got, that's fine with me, I'm just puttin' out the offer."

A small smile turned up Nebula's mouth. After a moment, she nodded, and said gruffly. "I would like that."

"Cool." Rocket said, relaxing, "Maybe it'll improve that hideous mood you're always in."

Chapter Text

Fourteen months after Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth was facing her first intergalactic threat.

"Anything from Danvers?" Steve said, coming up behind Natasha to observe the viewing monitors.

"Nothing," she said, arms crossed. "Not since an hour and a half ago."

"Did she say what reinforcements she was sending?"

"Nope," Natasha took a seat, "She was uncharacteristically vague," she said sarcastically, "Anything for air and ground support?"

Steve's brow furrowed, chin jutting out slightly as he shook his head.

"We have thrity minutes until they come back online. After that, window's closed. It might be best if we start evacuating. I don't know how much we can do to twenty ships in the upper atmosphere."

Captain Steve Rogers put his hands on the table, looking down, sighing deeply.

"Ya know, a year and a half ago, I probaly would have taken a stand. I might've been putting on the suit. Now, after everything we lost? What we failed to do? This kind of threat, on this scale..."

Nat knew he wouldn't say it, so she jumped in.

"It doesn't seem to matter."

He looked up at her with a bitter, thin smile. They both knew that, if they got out of this one, no one else would ever know this conversation had taken place.

The comm system wired into the room squealed.

"Attention protectors of Earth," the growl of their oppressor harshed their ears. "This is General Gryad. Your time is up."

"Okay, that's rude." Natasha looked at Rogers sadly.

Resignedly.

"If you do not surrender your planet, we will be forced to -"

"Oh, hey, are we late for the party?"

A new voice sounded over the comm. An obnoxious one. A familiar one.

"Rocket?" Natasha asked.

"Danvers sent us your message." Said a deep, feminine voice, "She said she was busy."

"And Nebula," Steve said, looking closely at the image on the screen that showed the view over the compound. Sure enough, just outside of the hoard of enemy ships, there was the ship he recognized from fourteen months ago.

"Okay," Rocket continued, clearing his throat, "to the dickbags who have entered the atmosphere of Terra; this lil planet here is under the protection of the Guardians of the Galaxy."

"The what?" Said the general of the war ship, "What is this, who is speaking!"

"Ah shit," Rocket said flatly, "they don't know who we are, that's embarrassing."

"Let's just kill them all and get it over with," Nebula said

"Well hey, hold on man, we gotta at least give these jerks a chance to surrender. We're supposed to be the good guys."

There was a pause.

"Fine."

"Cool."

"Jesus," Steve said under his breath.

"Anyway," Rocket went on, "We are the Guardians of the Galaxy, and if you don't get outta here in the next couple 'a seconds, we are gonna kick your asses."

Laughter rang throughout the room from the marauders above them.

"You are one ship against an army. You are bluffing!"

"Well, I don't know fellas, maybe I am," Rocket said, voice light, "Think I'm bluffin', Nebs?"

"He does not bluff."

A cackled resounded over the comm system.

"How do you do that, ahahaha! How are you that scary in one sentence?"

"Are they for real?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm not exactly sure how things work in space." Natasha said, just as bewildered.

"We will not surrender!" Roared the General, "The honor of our people, our race, will not bow to the command of a puny, insignificant -"

"Alright," Rocket sounded disturbingly nonchalant, "have it your way."

A second later, music crackled on over the speakers.

Natasha frowned, confused, "Is that the Sex Pistols?"

Arms crossed, completely ignorant, Steve shrugged.

"Ohoho yeah, I love this song," Rocket said, voice rising over the music. "Let's kill some guys!"

Fire filled the sky.

Right now
Oh I am an anti-Christ
And I am an anarchist
Don't know what I want
But I know how to get it
I want to destroy your passion boy
'Cause I, I want to be, anarchy

Music blasted out of the speakers on the Benatar, on the attacking ships, and in the Avengers Compound. Intermittently, laughter peaked over the music, snatches of conversation mixing in the the lyrics, all while an explosive battle shook the sky.

It was like the ships were being popped like balloons as a bee wizzed through them. The song faded out.

"Awesome." Rocket's voice dominated the line, "Alight, you're up."

After a few moments, a harmonica filled the air.

"Dude, really? This?" Rocket said incredulously.

"You said I could choose." Nebula replied, voice low.

Heeeeeeeeey, baby!
I wanna know if you'll be my girl

"I know that, but Bruce Channel?"

"There is nothing wrong with this song."

"Is this..." Steve trailed off.

"I honestly can't say." Nat replied, more baffled than ever.

"No, I agree with you," Rocket continued, "it's a really good song, but situationalisticly I feel like there might be something more tailored to our current predicament than "Hey! Baby!"

"If you don't like my choices, don't ask me to choose."

"Fine! Gimme that."

The battle didn't pause as the music stopped. Then, after a few seconds -

"I know that one." Steve said, a small smile on his face in spite of the current situation.

"You know Rod Stewart?"

Steve looked at Nat, feeling suddenly nervous and exposed. "Is that not a good thing?"

She grinned.

Hey, baby
You've been on my mind tonight
I'm so lonely I just had to sit down and write

"How is this any better than Bruce Channel?" Came Nebula's petulant voice over the music.

"Ya know, I'm really starting to doubt your taste here."

Just minutes later, every enemy ship was gone, obliterated in the sky.

"Did they just win?" Natasha asked, looking around for more ships. Definitely, they were all gone, "How..."

The music cut out. Rocket's voice took its place.

"Yeah, that's what you get when you're workin' with the best pilot in they galaxy. So hey, "Earth's Mightest Heroes," what's goin' on? And how about some lunch for the guys who just saved your butts?"

*******

"So you and Danvers been workin' together?"

They were all in the common area, and Natasha Romanov's instinct of reading the room was... damn, more on fire than it had been in a while:

Steve Rogers, good ol' Captain America, her boy once upon a time in Red White 'n Blue, was standing at the head of the table, arms crossed in a powerful stance, a natural leader even when he didn't want to be.

Rocket was seated at the table across from Nat, his arms also crossed as he sat back in his chair, but for him it was more about intimidation, hostility, a subconscious show of nonchalance. On slight guard, even amongst percieved friends. Still, he was leading the conversation, taking his space no matter the situation, a habit probably learned from having his space taken away from him. Hmm. She knew the feeling.

And then there was Nebula, leaning against the doorframe behind Rocket, inside and outside at the same time. The Black Widow had clocked her the second they'd met; she didn't belong, not anywhere, had no trust in others, always placing herself in a location where she could see the expression on as many faces as possible. Another feeling Natasha was well acquainted with... but now, Nebula stood behind Rocket. Interesting.

"Uh, yes," Natasha said, trying to ignore her ever-analytical mind and the novelty of talking to a sentient woodland creature, "She's been checking in every now and then on our little organization, making sure things are going okay."

Well, not so much these days. The universe outside of Nat's suddenly small world was apparently not going well. At all.

"And... are things going okay?" Rocket asked, eyebrows quirked up.

"We're, ah... we're doin' the best we can."

"Most locations we were able to help have been," Steve interjected, "A large portion of the major threats have been neutralize, set under surveillance and made manageable. For the most part, we've gotten our, uh, our planet under control."

"Uh huh." Rocket said, squinting at him like he'd expected the Avenger to lie the moment he'd asked the question.

Steve had. Not his normal.

"How about you guys," Nat said, tone light, cutting through the tension. One of her many talents, "You're the Guardians of the Galaxy? I'm sure you've had your hands full."

Rocket smirked.

"If you call shootin' around the galaxy at the speed a' light makin' sure more than one hundred civilizations are protected from war, starvation, and annihilation -"

"- then yeah," Nebula drawled, "We've had our hands full."

"And just for the record?" Rocket continued, "Thanks for the hospitality, but as breakfasts of champions goes, this is pretty lame."

Natasha faught back a smile. Despite his animosity, she kinda liked Rocket.

"Well," she said, mouth under control, "I wasn't sure what a raccoon would prefer to eat for lunch."

"I ain't a raccoon." "He's not a raccoon."

The two Guardians had spoken simultaneously, and both were glaring at her. Not too harshly, but enough.

"Alright, noted," she said, "sorry."

Yeah, they'd definitely gotten closer.

"So, who exaclty were the people that were attacking us?" Steve asked, breaking into the silence, stepping a little further into the room, "I assume they weren't local boys."

"You are correct," Nebula said in her ever-dramatic voice.

"Scavangers," Rocket said, picking the ham out of the sandwich in front of him; Nebula's sandwich remained on the table, untouched, "You ain't gotta worry too much about them, they're mostly all talk. That guy you said was a general? Yeah, no. You're lucky it ain't the Kree knocking at your door."

"Kree." Steve was suddenly far more attentive.

"Yeah." Rocket said, "We've been wrestlin' with them for a while."

"Danvers too," Nebula said, "That is why she sent us here."

Rocket grimaced, finally pushing his food away. Natasha caught Nebula’s not un-fond eyeroll.

"Yeah." Rocket said, picking at his teeth, "Them Kree been dealin' in kids. We've taken out a few factions, but we haven't found the center of it."

"So keep an eye on your children." Nebula added. "If the distress calls are anything to bet on, it happens fast."

Steve and Nat looked at each other. Damn, one more thing to worry about. Something big.

"You start noticin' anything goin' on that ain't supposed to be, you contact us."

"Well... how?" Steve asked.

"Oh shit, you don't have access to the channel?"

Natasha and Steve looked at him confusedly.

"Friggin' humies, do you have a universal communicator?"

Their expressions said it all.

Rocket pinched his nose, sighing deeply as Nebula rolled her eyes.

Damn.

Natasha and Steve lead the two aliens over to their communication hub. He only looked at it for a second.

"Oh man," Rocket snickered, "not a chance, how do you get by with this crap? Oh wiat, hey, actually, where can I find that Stark guy?'

Natasha looked at Steve, hesitating as he he put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor, forlorn.

"Or we could just go?" Rocket said after about fifteen seconds, impatient.

"I'll get you an address," Nat said, tearing her eyes away from her friend, going behind her desk to grab a paper and pen.

"Good." Rocket said, "I gotta talk to him about the damage he did to my ship anyway. He owes me a couple hundred credits."

Nebula, annoyed, shook her head.

Chapter Text

Tony Stark hadn't gotten any better at cooking. As he stood at the sink, getting soaked, scrapping away at what was supposed to have been breakfast, he was once again reminded that washing dishes wasn't coming any more naturally.

Nothing was easy now, in there little hideaway in the woods. No more houses and towers and compounds that were practically palaces. No one cleaning up outside of his garage, no one cooking, no nothing of the amenities of his life before... well, before.

But he was a creature of adaptation, always had been. He would get there, eventually.

He was, however, still adept at recognizing incoming aircraft when he heard it.

Or spacecraft.

Shit.

Panic like he hadn't felt in nearly a year and a half gripped his heart. Breath coming rough, he staggered to the living room.

"Take Morgan to the shelter."

Pepper formerly Potts looked up sharply from the couch

"Tony, what -"

"Just go. Don't come out until I say so."

Standing, holding a blanket-bound Morgan H. Stark, Pepper ran from the room, only pausing for a second to look back at Tony, eyes full of terror. She turned around, a swirl of orange hair, and was gone.

All Tony wanted, in that moment, was for that not to be the last time he saw his wife and daughter.

Pushing a series of buttons on his watch, Tony practially ran to the front door. Leaning against the wall next to it, he tried to regained his composure.

It had been a while since he'd had to be Iron Man.

Taking three quick breaths, he burst out of the door, finger poised to press one more button.

"Your driveway's too frickin' long, Stark."

It was Nebula, and... Ranger? Racket? He'd figure it out. They stopped a few feet from the steps leadingup to the porch, the little dude with his arms crossed.

"False alarm, Pep," he said quietly into his watch, slowly catching his breath, slowly calming his heart.

"Who is it?" She answered.

"The, ah, space people. Angry blue lady and rude raccoon guy."

"Oh. If it's okay, I think I'll sit this one out."

Tony half-smiled. His heart was still pounding in his chest, dizziness hitting him suddenly and hard. Taking hold of the railing around his porch, he straightened up, forcing himself to at least look calm.

"Rocky," he nodded at Rocket, then, "Bullwinkle." Nodding at Nebula.

"It's Rocket." The Guardian retored irritably.

"Gotcha." Tony's mind cleared, "To what do I owe this... astonishingly unexpected pleasure?"

"Your stupid Avenger buddies don't have the tech necessary to successfully link up a universal comm system for access to the distress call frequency the galaxy has been using since that big purple asshole snapped his fingers. We're here to see if you got better."

"Among other things." Nebula added, voice just as deep as he remember it.

"So show us what you got goin' on, we'll hook you up, and be on our way."

Well. At least they were here for a good reason. And it wasn't wholly bad seeing Nebula again. Tony sighed, then waved them in.

"Yeah, come on. I've got a few things to finish up in here before we get to playtime, but you're welcome to sit down, grab a bite."

Rocket and Nebula looked at each other, then back at him.

"Sure," Rocket said. They both climbed the steps, following their host into the house

"We got a fruit bowl on the table if you care to partake in some Earth delicacies, " Tony said as the screen door closed behind them.

Nebula sat down at the table, picking a berry from the assortment and leaning back in her chair. Rocket stood in the middle of the room, looking around. Remembering the multitude of parts that were suddenly missing after his last encounter with the Guardians, Tony was keeping a discrete eye on him.

"You like those?" he said to Nebula, watching her pick out another blueberry as he got back to washing the dishes.

Nebula looked up at him.

Tony smiled at her, "I love it. You should grab some for the road when you guys pack it up. Pep's gonna love hearing her tireless gardening is not in vain from... well, someone who isn't me."

Nebula nodded curtly. Tony smiled a bit wider; she'd been quiet during their 23 days together in space, but she was good people.

"What is that?" Rocket said abruptly, pointing at the wall.

"Aaah, what is what?"

In a few quick movements, Rocket was standing on top of an end table, taking down from the wall a small picture.

"That. What is it," he said, holding up the photograph, "some sort 'a goblin?"

Jesus, these people.

"Okay, that, Mr. Rocket, is my charming daughter.

"Daughter?" Rocket squinted incredulously at the picture.

"Yeah, and anyway, who're you to talk?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You literally have pointy ears, fangs, and a tail."

Rocket looked at Nebula.

She shrugged, "I don't know."

"Yeah, but a goblin?! That's rude!"

"You started it." Tony said, drying the last dish.

"You did start it," Nebula agreed.

Rocket stared back and forth between them, speechless

"Off the furniture, please."

Tony looked up, Nebula and Rocket turning to look behind them. A somewhat exasperated Pepper was walking in from the living room, headed for the kitchen with Morgan on her hip. Rocket vaulted back to the floor, glaring just a little with his arms crossed as she passed him.

"She," Tony said, pointing at Nebula with the cloth he was drying his hands off with, "likes your blueberries."

"They are delicious," Nebula said emphatically, looking wide-eyed at her hostess.

"Why, thank you," Pepper said, smiling sincerely at Nebula, "I have a garden in the back if you would like to pick some before you go."

Nebula sat up, quickly and very straight, "I would like that very much."

Yeah, Nebula was definitely good people. Rocket, he wasn't so sure... but he was smiling at his fellow Guardian... he might not be too bad.

"I'm going to start dinner." Said Pepper, turning to Tony

"Okay," he responded, putting down the cloth and leaning on the counter.

"Meaning you need to get out of my kitchen."

"Oh, it's your kitchen all of a sudden?"

"After that breakfast? Yeah."

Tony leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek, unable to hide his smile, "I thought there'd been some improvement."

"No, no, not at all."

He leaned down a little, kissing Morgan on the forehead. "What are you, the catch of the day?"

"Just get outta here." Pepper smiled back.

"You got it, boss'." He said, motioning for the two Guardians to follow him as he went to the back door. Holding it open for them, he turned his head back. "Have fun, ladies." Then closed the door behind him.

Yeah. He'd gotten lucky

If only the nightmares would stop.

Chapter Text

"So how are my fixin's on the, ah, Lauper holdin' up?" Tony asked, opening the garage door for the two Guardians.

"The Benatar," Rocket said, ducking under the door the moment it was high enough for him, suddenly out of sight, "and they're not. I had to rip out most of 'em in the first few months."

"That is... unfortunate." Tony said, following suit, Nebula right behind him

"Okay," Rocket looked around discerningly, "this I can work with."

Immediately, Rocket whipped something out of his pocket, propped it on a work bench, and tapped it.

... The Doobie Brothers

What the hell?

Don't you feel it growing
Day by day
People gettin' ready for the news
Some are happy
Some are sad
Oh, we're gonna let the music play

Okay, Tony Stark hadn't been quite this surprised in a long time. Feigning nonchalance while his guests were wandering the shop taking stock, Tony meandered over to the device Rocket had set up.

Once again, surprise, discovering technology he hadn't seen in... well, it had been so crap, he couldn't even say.

"How. On Earth. Did you get your hands on a Zune."

Rocket immediately whipped around.

"Don't touch that." He said, voice even. Not angry, just firm.

Tony raised his hands up by his shoulders. Rocket immediately looked embarrassed.

"It's just... it ain't mine." Rocket made his way back over to the work bench, picking up the Zune, "Few years back, Quill got it from his old man, guy called Yondu. They're both, ahh..."

"They're gone." Nebula said, looking back at them.

Rocket nodded, his cheeks stretching back as he swallowed, then frowned.

Shit. Tony put his hands back down by his sides. Who hadn't this guy lost?

Setting the Zune back down, Rocket returned to his examination of the garage.

Fifteen minutes later, Tony had to say, watching him? It was impressive. It had never been his practice to give anyone full rein of his shop. Quite the opposite. But this, he kinda wanted to see where it went without his interference.

When they'd been working on the Benatar they'd had a baseline of technology to go with, a blueprint of recognizable parts to follow, but with this? Rocket was moving fluidly around the shop, like it was his own. Constantly he was pointing at things for Nebula to get for him, or swiftly climbing shelves to grab this or that piece of machinery. Once they were in his shockingly nimble hands, he broke them down into small pieces, pulling out components Tony couldn't fathom how he knew were in them. Without hardly a second glance, the not-a-Raccoon put together a device that slowly began to make sense to the former Avenger.

All the while, he sang quietly along to the music.

Rocket cleared his throat. "So how you been, Stark? Last time I saw you, ya weren't lookin' so good."

Well. That was somewhat tactless.

Nebula seemed to agree.

"Twenty-three days stranded in space tends to do that to a person." She said gruffly and pointedly to her companion.

"Right. Sorry," Rocket said noncommitally, focus never leaving his work.

Tony sighed.

"Well, Pepper's keepin' me fit, all the food groups. On my toes with the kid around, pickin' up my hobbies a bit. So, all in all, everything from the neck down is doin' alright."

"And... above that?" Nebula asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice due to her perhaps too invasive question.

Well, there's always the haunting, crippling guilt, the horrendous fear of the unknown, and... the dreams... People vanishing, the kid disintegrating in his arms, Pepper and Morgan turning to dust.

He didn't say any of that. He couldn't. He simply rubbed his neck and gave Nebula a small smile. From the look on her face, she new exactly what it meant.

It was an early morning yesterday
I was up before the dawn
And I really have enjoyed my stay
But I must be moving on

Tony looked at the Zune, smirking, shaking his head. Really? Supertramp?

VBBBBRRRRRRMMMMMM

"Whoa, whoa," Rocket cried, "what the hell was that?!"

Tony looked up just in time to see the sparks from his old grinder fade.

"This is dangerous, dude!" Rocket's sharp front teeth were bared, "You should lable this kinda shit; do not touch, will defintiely burn your eyes outta your skull. "

"Hold on," Tony said, rummaging around in a junk box by the entrance of the garage, pulling out a pair of goggles older than he could remember.

"I really gotta purge some of this stuff. It does not spark joy," he muttered, handing them down to Rocket. The Guardian looked at them suspiciously for a moment, then put them on over his eyes, tightening them around his head.

"Keep 'em," Tony said, stepping back as Rocket prepared to use the grinder again, "I got dozens."

Rocket nodded, then got back to work.

Ten minutes later, Rocket lifted his goggles onto his forehead and stepped back. He turned off and pocketed the Zune, heading outside. Nebula followed, picking up what he'd built.

There were three of them, all thin and sleek. Upon Tony's distant examination, they looked like holographic projectors, each with the ability to send outgoing and recieve incoming messages.

"Alright, Stark, these should do it," the mechanic called, as if he hadn't done anything all. "We'll get outta your hair, head back to the compound, drop these off with those smarty-pants Avengers."

"Yeah, uh," Tony followed them out, "hey, if you guys need to catch a bite, Pepper's probably got dinner pretty much ready. Got a few extra plates."

It seemed... impolite to send them off without showing a little gratitude.

Rocket and Nebula, once again, looked at each other.

"Yeah?" Rocket said skeptically.

"Yeah, come on in." He turned toward the house, calling up to his wife, "Hey Pep, Tom n' Jerry are stickin' around for dinner."

Behind him, Rocket rolled his eyes.

*********

These Guardians sure were... of a strange ilk.

Nebula spent the first half of dinner watching Morgan distrustfully as the baby played in her high chair. The young Stark couldn't look away from her, and once the Guardian realized the infant was going to mirror everything she did, Nebula started dancing her fingers around on the table, making sudden movements with her hands. Everytime Morgan grinned or laughed, a small smile crept onto Nebula's face. She mostly ignored the conversation.

Rocket, couldn't seem to shut up.

"So you just, boom, made a new element?" He asked, grinning, "With a frickin' laser?"

"It was either that or slowly perish from the toxic sludge working it's way through my bloodstream, yeah."

Rocket leaned back in his chair, picking up a piece of fish with his clawed fingers, "That's awesome. Do you still have the laser?"

"Long gone."

"Do you... do you wanna make another laser?" He asked hopefully, popping the salmon into his mouth. The way he chewed was... sorta disgusting. Even still, Tony had decided he liked him.

Nebula, too, looked up from the baby, took a bite from her food, and looked eagerly at Tony.

Pepper, wided eyed, discretely shook her head as she gave Morgan another spoonful of her goop.

Tony smiled, "I think my laser makin' days are over."

Rocket screwed his nose up disappointedly, "I think we should get goin'," he said, slipping down from his chair. "Hey Nebs, you still wantin' to get them berries?"

She nodded, "Absolutely. "

"Alright. Hey boss lady."

Pepper looked down at Rocket, surprised at being addressed as such. Tony lowered his eyes behind his hands, hiding a smirk.

"Would you mind showin' her out to the garden? Then we'll head outta here."

"Of course." Pepper said with a near genuine smile, turning to Nebula. "Right this way, I'll get you a basket."

The two women walked through house. When Tony heard the back door close, he turned to Rocket.

"So," He said, leaning back in his chair, "How's things in space?"

Rocket looked up at him crossing his arms with a shrug. "Space is space."

"Fair enough. How's it going with the one-woman Blue Man Group."

Rocket blinked, "What, Nebula?"

Tony nodded.

Rocket looked down after a moment, seeming lost in thought. Tony watched, chin up, eyebrows raised. Finally, the Guardian looked back up.

"You were on Titan with the guys, right?"

Tony didn't like thinking about Titan. He didn't like thinking about a lot of things. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. After looking down for moment, he cleared his throat and looked up at his guest.

"Sure was."

"And did you by any chance form any opinions about them?"

Oh had he.

"Uh, a few... words come to mind."

"Uh huh, and were any of them words 'quiet'?"

"Ya know, now that you mention it?"

Rocket smirked, looking towards the back door.

"She's quiet."

Tony leaned on his hand, eyes following Rocket's. "Yeah, I sorta got that."

Tony knew, more than most, that quiet was a hard thing to get used to.

The backdoor opened and closed. Rocket shook his head and cleared his throat. A moment later, Nebula and Pepper came back into the kitchen, both carrying baskets.

"We have the blueberries," Nebula said, her deep voice enthused, eyes wide.

"Yep," said Pepper, a strained smile on her face, "All of the blueberries, yes." She handed off her basket to Rocket.

Adjusting his grip on the basket, Rocket looked up at his companion, "You good?"

Nebula nodded stiffly, then turned to Pepper, "Thank yoi for the blueberries," she said. She walked out the door, hefting what Rocket had built.

"Hey, Stark," he said as he followed his fellow Guardian, "Thanks for dinner?, "

Tony nodded, surprised at any scent of politeness, "Uh, yeah... yeah, no problem."

"Better than those sandwiches anyway," Rocket said under his breath, disappearing into the night.

Pep waved them off, then quietly said, "We literally have no more blueberries."

Tony smile, then a moment later Nebula came back inside.

"I have forgotten how to fold the paper," she said earnestly, intense eyes locked on Tony, "Please teach me."

********

"You sure you got the sequence right?" Rocket said over the comm from the Benatar. They'd already taken off and were stalled above the compound.

"It's only six buttons, Rocket." Natasha said, finally tired of his condescending bullshit.

"Okay, if you say so, cuz we ain't gonna come runnin' if you get it wrong."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Alright Nebs, we're outta here, pick a song. Hope we don't gotta see you later, Avengers! Try not to destroy the planet while we're gone?"

"Well," Steve said, "that was in poor taste."

Music blared over the compound's speakers.

"Oh hell yeah," Rocket yelled, "maybe your taste ain't so bad!"

"Just fly already." Nebula said, annoyed.

Cop this
I'm hot
And when I'm not, I'm cold as ice
Get out my way
Just step aside, or pay the price

With that, they were gone.

"Remind you of anyone?" Nat said, sending Steve Rogers a small smile.

Steve crossed his arms and smiled bitterly at the floor. After a moment, he walked away.

Sighing, Nat looked at the monitor where the Benatar had been. She hated this world.

Chapter Text

They were both exhausted, but Rocket insisted they stay up a little longer. Since they'd left Earth four months ago, this was the fifth opportunity he'd had to do an upgrade for Nebula.

The first time Rocket had opened her up, Nebula had been hesitant. After a lifetime of pain, her discomfort with physical touch was a hard habit to break. Then she'd remind herself; he had never hurt her. Even when they were enemies, he had never caused her pain.

And he always asked permission. This night was no different

So, while the Benatar was grounded on Bidark, refueling after an especially rough few days, they finally had a moment to chill.

"Where's the worst of it?" Rocket asked a little distractedly as he made sure he had all of what few tools he needed to work, then grabbing the Zune.

"My spine," Nebula answered quietly, still a little self-conscious.

Once he'd situated his stuff on the table top with a yawn, he dragged a chair out and turned it so the back of it was against the edge of the table.

"You cool with me gettin' in there?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

Nebula nodded, taking a seat at the table and pulling up the back of her shirt. Rocket handed her the Zune as was their unspoke custom. She scrolled through the songs and, finding one she wanted, she selected it.

"Nice." Rocket muttered as the intro started, "Okay, lean forward."

Nebula did so, waiting as he took off the skin graft hiding the mechanics of her back, sure any minute he would start singing or humming.

Sure enough -

"I've been waiting
Deh deh dedededede all my life
Hm hmhmhm hm"

She could feel his fingers inside of her, delicately sifting through the makeup of her body. As Nebula had expected, there was no pain.

"Hmhm hmhm
I've been waiting for this silence all night long
It's just - Awe man, no wonder you got problems!" Rocket said loudly, completely exasperated.

"What?"

"That damn idiot put a bunch 'a useless friggin' power converters in here. And there's three damn exposed wires, what the hell, dude!"

So that's what those sharp pains had been.

"Every time we do this you manage find something to be surprised about," Nebula said huskily.

"Well," Rocket said matter-of-factly, "it's just that you'd imagine the biggest prick in the galaxy would have the resources to hire some employees with maybe a little more smarts."

"I doubt torturing his least favorite daughter was high on his list of priorities."

Rocket snickered, shaking up surprise in Nebula. Barely, she kept from turning around to look at him; she had been joking, and he knew it. She had made him laugh, on purpose. She'd never made anyone laugh before.

"Alright, so to get to the stupid shit I gotta fix, it looks like we hafta take out part a' your spine. There's a switch here I'm pretty sure will make you go all stiff so you don't turn to jelly. Cool if I flip it?"

The switch.

Nebula froze, panic gripping her; the switch had only ever been used to keep her from struggling as she was suspended helplessly in mid-air. It had meant pain. An unbearable amount of pain.

But she closed her eyes, ignoring how hot it was behind them.

He won't hurt me he won't hurt me he won't hurt me he won't-

"Nebs? How ya doin'?"

Finally, she let a breath go through her nose, long and slow.

"Do it." Opening her eyes, Nebula started scrolling madly through the Zune.

"Ya know, we can just -"

"Just do it." With that, she picked a song.

Rocket paused for a long moment as the intro went into lyrics...

If you need a friend
Don't look to a stranger
You know in the end

... he flipped the switch.

Nebula grunted. A spasm zinged through her entire body as each and every piece of her went rigid. Fingers locking around the Zune, her breath quickened as fear washed through her.

"We, aaahh," Rocket said, fingers nowhere near her insides, "We good?"

"You ask again, I'll cut off your tail."

Rocket put his hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright."

Wordlessly, Rocket removed her spine with just a few motions of his agile hands. Nebula squeezed her eyes shut, so tight it almost hurt, waiting, but all she could feel was what she always felt; his clawed fingers flitting from one piece of her to another as he hummed to the song pumping through the speakers while he worked. Strangely, it was almost relaxing.

Until -

"Question; you Luphomoids, you got blue hearts?"

That was... unexpected.

"Yes?"

"Yeah," Rocket fiddled some more, then - "And lungs, how 'bout those? Blue?"

"... yes."

"Huh."

He fell silent. Nebula waited anxiously for him to continue. Something ugly was balling up in the pit of her stomach.

"What is it?" Nebula finally asked, voice going thick.

"It's just kinda weird in here."

"... weird?" Nebula's heart pounded.

"Yeah, there's all this junk -"

"Junk?" Her mouth went dry.

"Yeah, all this gross stuff in here that -"

"Get out of me."

"- doesn't really, wait what?"

"GET OUT."

Rocket's hands immediately flew from her insides.

"Hey, man, what -"

"Let me move."

"Nebs -"

"Don't call me that and let. Me. Move."

Within seconds, Rocket had returned her spine to her and flipped the switch, but before he could fully close her up, she shot out of the chair and onto the floor with a low, gutteral cry.

The music cut out.

"Whoa, whoa, what's goin' on?" Rocket said, dumbfounded as she stood, roughly pulling her shirt back into place and turning to glare at him with sharp, black, shiny daggers.

"Thanos made me this... thing that I am, but I am not some repulsive, odious freak." Her hands were shaking at her sides.

Rocket was staring at her, mouth open, speechless as her chest heaved with painful breaths.

"If you touch me again, I will kill you." She said, her voice ice.

With that, she turned her exposed back to Rocket and stormed towards the hallway, ready to disappear into her quarters. Behind her, Rocket jumped down from the table, his quick, short steps following her.

"Hey man, just -"

"Leave me alone," she seethed.

"Dude, wait, Nebula, hold on!"

"WHAT!" Nebula whirled around. Rocket was about ten feet away from her, hands held up as if to quell whatever hurricane was coming his way, "So you can tell me that I'm wrong inside? Like some monster? Tell me I'm -"

"No, man!"

Though she was angrier than she had been in nearly a year, it wasn't fear or anything akin to it she saw in Rocket's eyes. It was... something new. Desperation. Sympathy?

Yes. Sympathy.

"Just... dammit, just listen?" He said.

"I am waiting."

"Good. Cause nothin' wrong. I was gonna tell you that you still got your frickin' heart."

Nebula froze, lips pressed in a tight line. Suddenly, she was extremely unsteady.

"What?" She said, the word barely getting out.

Rocket took a deep, calming breath, "Your heart, the one you got in there?" He pointed at her chest, "It's blue, ya know? Organic. I'm fairly certain it's the original."

Her own, original... Nebula's felt dizzy. Her heart. In all the years of being destroyed and reassembled, she hadn't known. She had always assumed.

"Lungs too," Rocket continued, "And your brain, I saw it last time I was in there. Your spine, yeah, that's synthetic and all, but there are other things."

Rocket took a deep breath. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. He swallowed hard.

"It's just... you... ya know..."

"I what?" Nebula said quietly, chin up, eyes burning. She blinked back her tears.

Rocket sighed, "You still got a lot a' you in there. More than I thought you had."

Nebula couldn't stop them; tears fell down her cheeks. Stiffly, she nodded.

"Now... you still want me to fix all the other stupid crap in there?"

She nodded again.

"Good," he said, going back towards the table, "cuz I wanna take a nap already."

As she watched her companion retreat, something in Nebula's heart, her own heart, bloomed.

************

"Definitely not the most enjoyable of our little good-deed-doin's." Rocket said grumpily as they headed down the bright, richly colored and furnished hallway of the palace they'd just saved, adjusting his gun more comfortably on his back and scratching at the singed fur on his arm

Nebula wiped soot off of her cheek with the back of her hand, "Only if you consider spending three hours being nearly burnt to death by Zagujts unenjoyable. I'm damn over it."

"Whatever," Rocket said, chuckling quietly, "let's just get our friggin' units so we can say so long to this crap shute of a planet."

It wasn't a crap shute. Gesnovia Omega was one of the most opulent and resource-rich planets in the galaxy. Not to prey on the misfortunes of others, but this was the biggest score the two Guardians had had in the seven months since they'd left Earth, and units had grown sparse. Now, after doing all the dirty work they'd been hired to do on Gesnovia Omega for the last three days, they were ready to blast off outta there.

Reaching the end of the hallway, they were met by a tall, yellow woman in immaculate purple robes they'd been told would be waiting for them.

"Greetings, Guardians," the Gesnovite said, bowing her head to Nebula.

Rocket said a bored, "Hey." Nebula did nothing.

Man they were tired.

"Please, follow me to your reward, it is well earned."

"No kiddin,'' Rocket muttered with a glance at Nebula, going to follow their guide.

"Not that."

"Not what?" Rocket stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at the escort, confused.

She did not look at him.

"Your..." the Gesnovite made a face as though some odor had invaded her nose as she addressed Nebula, "companion is not permitted entrance beyond this point."

Rocket's gut suddenly felt heavy. Crap, this was gonna turn into a whole thing...

"Why?" There was an edge in Nebula's tone.

"We mean no offense, but we do not allow primitive, lower-intelligence lifeforms to desecrate the divine presence and delicate sensibilities of Her Highness."

"Primitive lower frickin' what?!" Rocket's eyes were wide with shock as he stared up at the woman.

"You asked for the Guardians of the Galaxy." Nebula said coldly. "We came."

"Indeed, but we were expecting the legendary Star-Lord and his crew. Not you and your pet."

"He is not a pet." Nebula's voice was unsteady, hand moving to the knife on her right hip, mind on the blaster on her left. Still, she kept an eye on Rocket; he was fuming but had not yet made to attack.

"And if you haven't noticed, miss fancy, Star-Lord ain't here." Rocket said nastily. "What you're seein' here? So sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities, but this is what you get. You got an issue with that?"

"We have done what you asked," Nebula's rage was bubbling very near the surface.

"Yes," said their escort, eyes still locked on Nebula, her tone unaffected, "and our wondrous planet is grateful. Her Highness would be very happy to present the reward that has been earned, to you."

Deep, tense silence filled the grand and beautiful hallway. Rocket's hand itched for his gun, more than it had in a long time in regards to a civilian. He wanted to blow the face off of the shit head standing in front of him, like he'd done to countless others.

But dammit. Rocket was a Guardian of the Galaxy. He looked up at Nebula, sneering. Her black eyes swan with the rage he felt.

"I'm outta here," he grumbled, "Get the units, I'll get us ready to go."

As she looked down at him, he watched the fire go out, her expression softening. After a moment, she nodded.

So, as Rocket went back to the Benatar, Nebula shook hands and bowed her head and did all the stupid bullshit she hated most about being a Guardian, only this time? It was making her physically ill. She had never been more disgusted in her life.

Once she finally left the palace, she stormed back to the Benatar. Opening the gangplank to board, she was greeted with -

... nothing in your eyes
It makes me feel like giving up
Because my best just ain't good enough
Girl, I want to provide for you

Oh no.

Nebula boarded the ship, eyes scanning for Rocket. It didn't take long to spot him; he was hunkered down in a corner, sitting on a box, piecing together something small and dangerous-looking. As the gangplank closed, his ear twitched and he looked out of the very corner of his eye at his fellow Guardian, hands still tinkering away.

"You get the units?" His voice was low, calm. Dejected.

Nebula nodded.

"Mmm." He turned his head away.

Nebula shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, racking her brain for an answer, a fix for what had occurred. She couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Rocket -"

"We better get outta here," he said loudly over her, bitterness tainting his words, "Probably a few hundred other planets of douchebags needing their special little selves saved."

Nebula's tongue was completely tied as she watched her friend. Despite the ache she felt, there was nothing she could think to do, so she moved to go to the cockpit, ready to get them off of Gesnovia Omega and into neutral space. Then she spotted the Zune.

For Rocket's part, his eyes were fixed on the little device in front of him. It was not going to be a good thing. It was going to hurt people. A lot of people. He wanted it to. Listening to the music, brow furrowed, he couldn't help but think of all the yellow jerks with fancy purple robes that the thing in his hands could hurt... but of course never would.

More than anything, I need your love
Then troubles are easy to rise above
Oh! Oh no -

The song changed. Rocket froze as he listened to the intro of the new tune, ears perked up high...

Don't go changing to try and please me
You never let me down before, mmm
Don't imagine you're too familiar
And I don't see you anymore

I would not leave you in times of trouble
We never could have come this far, mmm
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times
I'll take you just the way you are

Rocket's breathing hitched as the music filled the Benatar. Eyes burning, he finally turned around, just in time to watch Nebula's back disappear into the cockpit. In only a few moments, they were off the ground and sailing through jump points.

Don't go trying some new fashion
Don't change the color of your hair, mmm
You always have my unspoken passion
Although I might not seem to care

I don't want clever conversation
I never want to work that hard, mmm
I just want someone that I can talk to
I want you just the way you are

Rocket looked down at his hands, small and clawed, ears laid flat against his head. Closing his eyes, he let go of a deep, shuddering, painful breath.

Rocket breathed out, deep and heavy. Then, wiping the wetness from beneath his eyes, he, just a little, smiled.

Chapter Text

By Earth calculus, it was now June 20th, 2020.

Two years. It had been two years.

Nebula and Rocket had ignored the first anniversary of the day Thanos had snapped his fingers. It had all felt so... close. Far too close and too unimaginable. They had both spent the day alone, hadn't said a word to each other, Rocket drinking and Nebula staring out through the great window of the Benatar into the vast emptiness of space.

The two Guardians had had one thing in common on that day in 2019: holes in their chests too deep to fill. Holes echoing with every single voice neither of them would hear again.

Two years since Nebula saw Gamora for the last time because her hero of a sister couldn't bear to listen to her scream as Thanos ripped her apart. Two years since she'd watched the only people who had ever shown her any kindess disappear.

Two years since Rocket had watched helplessly as Groot had drifted away on the wind. Two years since he'd sat on a fallen tree, wondering, no way of knowing, if he was once again alone in the universe.

Now, as Rocket lay on his bed, comforted by its hard surface, he could see the moment, feel the feelings, clear as the day it happened.

Rocket had opened his eyes an hour ago. He didn't want to get up, didn't want to go out into the deafening silence of the ship he and his family had called home. With a heavy sigh he got up anyway, dragging himself out from under his thin blanket and putting his feet on the floor. Tugging on trousers, pulling on a shirt, and putting Stark's old goggles around his ears, he finally left his quarters.

Yep. Silence.

He walked slowly down the dark, short hallway and into the common area. Scratching the back of his neck, he looked around at the nothingness before heading to the kitchen and climbing up onto the counter to open up the cabinet where they stored their food. Rooting around, he looked for something that sounded even a little edible. When he reached the very back of the cabinet, he touched a small bag of something long forgotten and jerked back his hand.

Zargnuts.

Immediately, what little appetite Rocket had had was gone. Shutting the cabinet, he hopped back down onto the floor then, after a stiff, uncomfortable moment, he went to the Zune. It only took him a few seconds to find the song he wanted to hear. He tapped it, pushing play.

Apparently alerted to his presence by the music, Nebula soundlessly entered the room from the cockpit. Rocket tilted his chin up at her.

I don't wanna feel no more
It's easier to keep fallin'
Imitations are pale
Emptiness, all tomorrows haunted by your ghost

Lay down, black gives way to blue
Lay down, I'll remember you

Fading out by design
Consciously avoiding changes
Curtain's drawn, now it's done
Silencing all tomorrows, forcing a goodbye

Lay down, black gives way to blue
Lay down, I'll remember you

The music faded out.

Turning around, Rocket saw that Nebula had taken a seat at the table. She was staring forward, motionless, tears swimming in her black eyes, looking as heartbroken as she had on the night they'd sat together on the gangplank of the Benatar that long ago night.

Rocket grimaced. He went to the refrigerator, opening it and grabbing out a bottle of clear liquid. Then, taking two small glasses off the counter, he headed to the table and put all three things on its surface.

He vaulted up onto the table, then poured Nebula and himself a drink. Crossing the dirty surface to stand in front of his fellow Guardian, he held a glass out to her. As though waking from a dream, she looked up at what he was offering, then reached forward to take it.

Rocket inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

"I ain't usually the type to do this sorta thing, but..." he cleared his throat, "To the Guardians of the Galaxy."

Nebula looked up at him, then nodded.

They lifted their glasses and drank.

Chapter Text

Three months into the third year post-snap and Rocket hadn't gotten the hang of grocery shopping. He was just bad at it. Gamora or Quill had usually been the ones to stock up on food, he'd gone with them only a handful of times. Now it was him, and never really knew what to get, and always got too much.

Why Nebula kept sending him out to do it was beyond him. She always complained about most of the shit he bought, though he'd kinda learned to counteract that; most planets they went to had some sort of berry close enough the the blueberries they'd gotten on Earth. Rocket would give them a taste to be sure of them, then buy enough to last them a few months. That usually shut her up.

So, pulling behind him a small kart so he wasn't juggling a bunch of bags and heading back to the open gangplank of the Benatar, he readied himself to, once again, navigate being scolded for his poor selections and placating with blueberries. As he approached, however, he could hear music, playing exceptionally loudly, floating through the air from the ship.

... feel the magic when we do what we do
And oh
I can't do without you for too long
You're my situation
You're my kinda lover
My kinda lover
My kinda lover
My kinda lover

Huh. Automatically bobbing his head along with the tune, Rocket boarded the ship. The further in he got, the farther back his ears pressed against his head.

You keep me all together
You take me out whenever I'm lettin' down
You got the motions baby

Shit, yeah, it was super loud.

He stepped into the common area and pushed the cart to the side, ready to tell Nebula to turn it the hell down, when he saw her across the room.

She was dancing.

Not well, really. Mostly she was shifting back and forth on her feet with the melody, arms moving somewhat languidly by her sides. Every now and then, her head would twitch to the this way or that. Definitely not the sort of dancing he'd seen before on this ship, but not terrible.

Well. Nebula would definitely not like turning around and discovering him standing there, so he cleared his throat more loudly than he ever had in his life.

Startled, his fellow Guardian whipped around and looked at him, then immediately picked up the Zune and shut it off. The moment the music stopped, she fumbled with the device, pushing it onto the table like it was going to bite her.

Silence crashed down on the Benatar. Nebula stared at the floor, body gone stiff, mouth in a hard straight line.

"You, ah..." Rocket smiled up at her, totally comfortable, "you been dancin' in here often?"

Nebula looked up at him shiftily, clearly unnerved.

"It's a relatively new thing," she said roughly, glancing at the Zune.

"That's cool," Rocket said, turning to the kart to unload their new provisions. "Quill, ya know... he kinda used ta do the same thing, Groot too when he was small. Drove Drax friggin' crazy."

Nebula hesitated, then asked, "And Gamora?" as she rounded the table to put the groceries into the cabinets and refrigerator.

"Eh, not at first, but she sorta came around." Kart empty, he patted a spot on its hull, collapsing it completely and tucking it in a drawer, "It helped that Quill was always puttin' on the songs she seemed to get the most kicks outta. Got to be a little annoying when it was the same lyrics blastin' on the speakers all day just so Quill could get in her pants, but her taste wasn't so bad."

Nebula scoffed humorously, tossing aside the empty sacks from Rocket's shopping.

Rocket watched closely and quietly as Nebula shuffled away the items he'd brought back, and judging by her slowly changing expression, he'd called it; once again, too much food. It was gonna go bad before they could eat it all, there goes more units down the drain.

Before she could say anything, he slid a box full of castoberries across to her.

"Grabbed some a' these for ya," he said, climbing up onto a chair.

Nebula's focus shifted to the small box. All frustration with Rocket was instantly forgotten as, eyes softening, she picked it up and opened it. After picking out and examining one of the berries for a moment, she popped it in her mouth. Rocket watched her closely as she mulled over the taste, smiling with gratification when, after swallowing the first, she immediately ate a second.

Rocket laughed through his nose, considering his companion.

It had been a long time since anyone had done much dancin' on the Benatar. It had never really been his thing, maybe he'd done some dancing a handful of times, but it certainly hadn't been uncommon for his former fellow Guardians to click on a song and go for it.

And now here was Nebula. Two years ago, he never would have expected it from her, but now? She seemed so different. And it was nice, having someone dancing around again.

"Do you have any favorites?" Rocket asked.

Nebula looked up from her food, "Favorites?"

"Yeah, favorite tunes. Everyone always made out like there were some they dug better than others. Well, excluding Drax, but he was kinda a freak a' nature. So, whatcha got?"

After looking at him for a moment, Nebula put her berries down and went to the Zune. Rocket watched as she scrolled through, and the moment she chose and the intro played, Rocket smiled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Well, she was an American girl
Raised on promises
She couldn't help thinkin' that there
Was a little more to life somewhere else

Nebula looked at him expectantly. Hopefully, almost.

"I guess you and Gamora got somethin' in common." Rocket said.

Nebula nodded in time with the music. Man. The guys woulda liked her.

Nebula paused the song as her black eyes hardened and shifted to the screen behind him. Distress calls from across the galaxy had kept pouring in. After more than two years, they had only slowed a little.

"What is it?" Rocket asked turning around in his seat to follow her eyes.

"A distress call coming in from Earth," she said, hurriedly rounding the table and tapping the red light on the screen.

"Crap, hope it ain't too bad."

A second later, Natasha Romanov's pale face appeared in front of them.

"Hey, am I coming through?" The Avenger asked.

"Of course you are," Rocket said, feeling somewhat affronted, "whadaya think, I built you some sorta busted humie trashheap?"

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"What's is it, Romanov?" Nebula asked earnestly.

"It's happening," Natasha said, "just like you said it would."

"The kids?" Nebula's shoulders tensed.

"Almost a hundred missing in three weeks. We're gonna need some help on this one."

"Any word from Danvers?" Nebula asked.

"No answer, not in two weeks."

"It will not take us long to get to Earth. The Kree are formidible, do not enter this situation without our help."

"Especially if you don't wanna get your asses handed to you by one of the biggest dickhead races in the galaxy." Rocket called from behind her.

"We'll be ready for you." Natasha said, and the connection dropped.

"Welp." Rocket said, looking up at Nebula and pushing away anything he may or may not have felt in the last three minutes.

Nebula looked back at him, "Yeah."

Chapter Text

The Guardians of the Galaxy were once again situated around the table in the common area. Natasha, once again unable to turn it off, couldn't help but access the vibes of the people in the room.

Good ol' Steve Rogers was off near the doorway, observing with his arms crossed, close to the perimeter. Staunchly unlike him. He had been more and more distant, at the compound less and less. Nat was... not pleased about it.

With the Guardians, though. Things had seemingly developed in a different direction.

Rocket was reclined in his chair, comfortably taking his space, arms still crossed, this time for relaxation. He was far less on edge. Better, but not dissimilar to how he'd been last time.

But Nebula. Instead of lingering off in the doorway, she was standing only three feet behind her fellow Guardian off to his right. As they were positioned now, the vibes they were giving off... they had seemed little more than aquaintances directly after the snap, staying near each other but hardly speaking, but obviously they had grown closer. They were now a team. It wasn't surprising, really. Natasha and Steve had lost so many, many people, but they were still in regular contact with Rhodie and Danvers, still spoke with Bruce often. It seemed, on the other side of the scale, that each other was literally all Nebula and Rocket had.

Natasha smiled, discretely and bitterly; while the family of the Guardians of the Galaxy was growing closer, her own family was falling apart. Drifting away.

The more Nebula stood there, however, the more Natasha noticed her odd behavior. After she and Rocket had entered the room and exchanged very brief pleasantries with the Terrans that were somehow both hostile and friendly, she had been glancing shiftily at the former Avengers. Clearly she was uncomfortable about something but not in a way that triggered a fight response in the Black Widow. Mostly, she seemed a little shy.

"Where have the kidnappings been centralized?" Nebula asked in her low, rough voice. It always surprised Nat just how deep it was.

Natasha leaned forward in her chair to answer, but before she could get a word out Rocket had jumped onto the table and clicked a few buttons; a three dimensional projection of Earth appeared above it.

Nat looked over at Steve. He raised his eyebrows. It wasn't often someone had walked into their space and immediately become an expert at using Tony Stark's little toys.

"Gimme a sec, gotta enter in the specs," the Guardian said, his small, clawed fingers flitting around the holographic globe. He cast a brief sidelong glance at Nebula; she was still looking around nervously at their hosts. "Go on and ask," Nebula looked up at her companion sharply, "What're they gonna do, say no? So they say no, so what?"

After a pause, she nodded, then looked at Nat.

"Are there any Terran berries here at the compound?"

That was... unexpected.

"Specifically blueberries," Rocket added, not taking his eyes off his work.

"Uh, no." Steve said, kindly but confusedly, "We're not, uh, really berry people."

Nebula turned back to Rocket, "They said no."

Natasha barely held back a smile.

"Eh, don't sweat it, Nebs," Rocket said with a small shrug, "we'll get some before we finish up here."

Just two clicks later and Rocket had the globe covered in millions of small red dots, more clustered in some areas than in others.

"What're all those?" Steve asked, moving further into the room.

"All the detectable human heat signatures on the planet."

Rocket pushed a few more buttons; the red dots were joined by clusters of blue, mostly located in Japan, the coast of China and partway into the country, and North and South Korea

"And those?" Nat asked, brow furrowed.

"Every recorded missing child in the last two months."

"Two months?" Steve sounded somewhat alarmed.

"Yep."

Six green blobs appeared on the screen and Rocket finally let his hands fall to his sides.

"And those," he said, "are the sites of every major natural disaster in the last three months."

"Why natural disasters?" Steve asked.

"We've dealt with the Kree twelve times now." Nebula said, "They have a pattern."

"They pick a planet and keep an eye on it, waiting for some cataclysmic event." Rocket said, "When somethin' big enough happens, they set up shop, hiding in the area with the most devastation."

"As long as they're careful, they can operate undetected for months, the missing children often reported dead or misplaced by the event."

"According to the info you got," With a single tap, Rocket zoomed in over Japan and the coast of China, "about two and a half months ago, an earthquake hit right there, pretty big one. At the center of all that crap? That's where the Kree are gonna be, and most likely a majority of the kids."

"A majority?" Steve asked, brow furrowed.

Rocket hesitated, looking at Steve. "Uh, yeah, well..."

"The children are being trafficked." Nebula cut in, "You said it started about three weeks ago?"

Natasha nodded.

"The Kree most likely arrived long before that. Many of the children won't even be on Earth anymore."

"And as of now," Rocket interjected, "we don't have a clue where they are."

Natasha felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She looked at Steve; he seemed to be in about the same condition. They had thought they'd been doing okay, that they had handle on things, but here now these two... people saying were saying that, under her watch, hundreds of children may have been stolen, frittered away to other planets for who knew what reasons.

Some superheroes they'd ended up being.

"There are thousands of children across the galaxy missing." Nebula said, "We've been trying to narrow down their location, pinpoint the Kree homebase, but -"

"All we've been able to do is catch 'em in the act," Rocket said, regret clear in his voice, "We keep missin' 'em, shitbags slippin' through our fingers."

"It has been..." Nebula's hands clenched at her sides, "disappointing."

Steve Rogers crossed his arms, face hardening as he took three definite steps into the room. Nat hid a smile; there was her boy.

"Well," he said. She could almost envision a shield, "how about we change that?"

******

The flight from the compound to the disaster area in China took seconds. The Benatar, she really could move. Still, Steve Rogers was pretty sure he preferred sticking to Earth. The atmosphere had always done him just fine.

Rocket had cloaked the ship and touched down about a mile out from the worst of the earthquake's aftermath. They area had been thoroughly destroyed, and though it was an ugly thought, Steve could understand why the Kree had adopted their strategy; in all this mess and rubble and ruin, there was no way of guessing how many bodies might be buried.

Once their feet were on the ground, Nebula pulled out a device, flipping it open and holding it out in front of her.

"We are close," she said, heading off toward the heart of the devastation. Rocket followed her without a word. Steve shared a brief glance with Natasha, and they too fell in step.

It took them about an hour to reach the crevice in the earth that the scanner was leading them to, and then a grueling eighteen minutes to navigate its steep, dangerous walls into its depths. How Rocket managed it with both his enormous gun and a large bag full of what couldn't be guessed at Steve didn't know.

As they neared the bottom, Steve was surprised to see that there was light awaiting them. Their journey had taken them to a well-lit dome of a chamber littered with floor to ceiling collums. There were three passages in front of them, one straight ahead and the others to the left and right.

There was no one in sight. Soundlessly, the four of them took cover behind a tall pile of rubble.

"My scanner detects fifty-nine lifeforms in the caverns with Kree specifications." Nebula said just above a whisper.

"And human?" Nat asked.

"273, all reading as juvenile."

"We found them," Steve said, relief twanging into his overburdened heart.

"Told ya." Rocket said, fiddling with something in the bag he'd brought.

Nat rolled her eyes, looking at Steve as if to tell him not to bother.

"Okay," she said, turning to Nebula, "good, we found them. Now, fifty-nine is a lot of aliens. What's the plan?"

"We can't take all the Kree head on," Steve said, keeping alert, aware of each point of vulnerability, "we don't know the landscape, or even if it's safe, and we don't have the necessary manpower."

"We don't need manpower." Rocket said with a smirk, discerning copper eyes flitting around the room from top to bottom. "Coast clear, Nebula?"

She glanced at her scanner. "Go for it." She said flatly.

With that, Rocket was off, toting his large bag behind him. Steve watched him, somewhat in awe, as he scaled collum after collum in seconds, basically scampering along the walls, moving as easily as if he were on the floor. As he went, he fished things out of his bag, stopping in places all over the chamber, never once slipping or making a sound. Steve couldn't fathom what the hell he was doing.

Finally, Rocket arrived back in their place of cover, breathing completely steady as though he hadn't exerted any effort at all. The bag was empty.

"Alright, you guys ready to go to work?" He asked, pulling something out of his pocket.

Nebula nodded. After a small, unsure moment, the two former Avengers nodded too.

"Well, let's get after it," Rocket said, holding up the device in his hand and tapping a button.

Music, loud music, echoed around the cavern, an electric guitar piercing the air.

Steve was... astounded.

"What're you thinking, you've totally given us away!" Natasha cried, eyes wild as she looked at Rocket.

"Yeah. How did you want me to get their attention? There wasn't exactly a doorbell!" The Guardian shouted above the din.

"I..." Steve blinked rapidly, shaking his head in awe.

"What? You wanna pick the song?" Rocket asked. He sounded completely sincere.

"There are 299 others to choose from if there is something you prefer." Nebula said, just a serious.

Steve was simply... bewildered. They were crazy.

"Ope, too late, here they come," Rocket said with a grin, gun at the ready, some sort of trigger in his hand.

And, as if on cue, the Kree appeared out of all three passages right when the lyrics came into play. Rocket pushed a button.

Ever since I was a young boy, I've played the silver ball
From Soho down to Brighton, I must've played 'em all

Immediately, five at all entrances, blue aliens were flying up into the air, all of them yelling in surprise. Rocket pushed another button and the airborne Kree fell, slamming into the ground

But I ain't seen nothin' like him in any amusement hall
That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball

Over and over, up and down, they sailed into the air three, four times. The ones coming in behind them looked at them, confused and on guard, skirting around the collums their commrads had gone between. They ran to the center of the room, about twenty in all, weapons zipping to and fro as they searched for their attackers

He stands like a statue, becomes part of the machine
Feelin' all the bumpers, always playin' clean

The Guardian pushed still a third button; from the collums around the Kree shot tiny, metallic darts, and each Kree they hit crumpled to the ground

Plays by intuition, the digit counters fall
That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball

Thirty more Kree entered the room, astonished as they looked at the state of the others already lying on the floor. The one in front pointed around him; the men and women behind him split up and began slowly skirting around the perimeter, at the ready to fire

He's a pinball wizard, there has to be a twist
A pinball wizard's got such a supple wrist

Once again, a button was pushed. From along the wall, wires were shot out into the collums nearest them. Electricity filled the air between each of them, the Kree standing in the way convulsing as the bolts traveled through them

How do you think he does it? (I don't know)
What makes him so good

And Rocket was cackling, Nebula crouched by him with a sadistic smile playing on her lips.

Jesus Christ.

Looking at one another, the two Guardians nodded. In unision, they leapt out from behind the rubble with a cry and careened into the fray

Ain't got no distractions, can't hear no buzzes and bells
Don't see no lights a-flashin', plays by sense of smell

Always gets the replay, never seen him fall, That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball

Rocket scurried up a collum, shooting his gun at the ones by the entrances who were getting to their feet. Nebula stood below him, covering his blind spots.

I thought I was the Bally table king
But I just handed my pinball crown to him

Nebula rolled across to the center of the floor, Rocket landing on her shoulder. They spun in a circle, Rocket laughing maniacally, Nebula screaming low and furious, as the attacking and groggy Kree surrounding them took hit after hit from their guns. Whe they'd all stopped twitching, the Guardians leapt apart from each other.

Finally, as Nebula chucked away her guns and pulled two long knives, Rocket sticking to his massive gun, Steve looked over to Nat. She shrugged and they joined the fray

One by one, the Guardians worked their way from the sides taking down all twenty of the recovered Kree that had been electrocuted, Rocket jumping from one place to another on the craggy surface of the wall, Nebula crashing through them, body being tumbled before springing disgustingly back together. The Avengers followed behind them, picking out the ones who had survived.

Even on my favorite table, he can beat my best
Disciples lead him in, and he just does the rest
He's got crazy flipper fingers, never seen him fall
That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball

They all reached the middle of the far entrance simultaneously as the music faded out, Rocket dropping from the wall and landing beside a readjusting Nebula, her neck and elbow finally realigning itself to the rest of her body.

"Well," Nat said, breathing hard as she surveyed the scene, "I guess that's one way to do it."

"How many'd we take out?" Rocket asked, looking up at Nebula.

She quickly scanned the room, "Fifty-six."

"Three more," Steve said, "The kids still where they were?"

Nebula looked at her scanner, then up at him with a quick nod.

"Alright then," he said, looking around at the three of them, "Let's save these kids."

Chapter Text

It didn't go according to plan, exactly.

The Guardians and former Avengers freed all 273 of the kids from the seven cramped cages in the far chamber. The three Kree who'd been overseeing them had been taken care of, though they'd kept one left alive for information, the goal being he'd lead them to the other kids if they, as Rocket put it, were really really nice to him.

All in all, not terrible, but for the bomb.

They'd had the final, living Kree tied up on the ground as they opened each cage, the children filing out. All of the kids were somewhat wary of their saviors at first, but when Rocket had pulled from a large pocket on the side of his bag two dozen or so small baggies of nuts Natasha and Steve couldn't identify, they perked up considerably.

"They are always hungry when we find them," Nebula had explained bitterly, ushering the young Terrans, a majority of them Chinese, towards the passages that would take them to the exit, "the Kree keep them weak. Unable to run away."

"Jerk-ass creeps," Rocket'd muttered with a scowl as he'd opened the baggies and given out however many nuts could fit in his small hand to one child after another.

It was later, when nearly all of the kids had left through the passages following Steve Rogers, that their Kree prisoner had finally managed to free his hands and push a button on a device that was hidden in his pocket. Rocket clocked it immediately, associating it quickly to an explosive located on the Kree's hip.

Unfortunately, his fellow Guardian was standing directly beside the Kree, preparing to stand him up and get him moving.

"Nebula, MOVE!"

In a split second Rocket had leapt through the air, knocking Nebula far out of the way. It was less than a second later that the bomb went off.

The Kree had been obliterated. Nebula, for her part, had been pushed by the shockwave, her body rolling away into the wall of the cavern. Rocket? He was thrown through the air by the force of it, the back of his head clipping a pillar, sending his body spinning. He'd crashed into the same wall as Nebula, sliding down it, landing on the floor five feet from her, out cold.

Natasha, also thrown a short ways by the blast, had struggled to her feet, shaking the high pitched ringing out of her ears.

"Rrockeett." Nebula groaned.

Nebula had dragged herself to Rocket's side, coughing up blood as she went. Reaching out, she'd put her hand on his chest to find his heart still thumping. As she looked him over, breathing ragged, she discovered that there was blood oozing from a gash in his head. An awful lump had risen to her throat, her head snapped around, eyes zeroing in on her companion.

"Help me."

Now, three days later, Rocket was lying on a bed far too big for him at the Avengers compound, hooked up to tube and an oxygen machine. The head wound had been easy enough to close up, but he hadn't opened his eyes, and though he'd been breathing on his own, Nebula had insisted on the oxygen mask; clearly, the Guardian wasn't for taking chances with this.

Considering her circumstances, Nat understood why; three years after losing nearly everything, it was hard to imaging losing the only thing you had left.

Nebula hadn't hardly eaten in the three days Rocket had been unconscious. Neither had she moved too much from her station outside of the door to the room he was in. Certainly, she hadn't slept at all.

Natasha was growing concerned. Her meeting with Steve and Rhodey about their progress on the makeshift shelter in China and the relocation of all the stolen children over, she went looking for Nebula. The strange woman was right where Nat thought she'd be.

"Hey," the former Avenger said, walking lackadaisically up to Nebula, positioning herself next the the Guardian with her arms crossed, joining her in gazing in at Rocket. Nat could feel the air surrounding the woman next to her. It was static, tense, hot, killawatts of untapped energy coursing through the alien's body, restrained but ready to explode. She also noted that something was clutched in Nebula's right hand, tucked away in her folded arms. "I was thinking about grabbing a bite. You want anything?"

Nebula in no way responded.

Okay, let's drop the pretense.

"Look, you're no good to him standing around hungry and tired. Just get some rest, okay? If anything develops, you'll be the first to know."

Silence. After a few beats Nat nodded and was a mere moment away from leaving, when -

"Before my father wiped out half the universe, Rocket and I had never once exchanged a kind word."

If there was one thing Natasha Romanov was good at, it was reading the room. So, reaffirming her position beside Nebula, she strapped in and listened.

"When our paths first crossed," Nebula continued, "we were enemies. When last we parted ways, we were not friends. I hardly knew his name."

Nebula's eyes brimmed with tears, her lips pressed in a tight line. Nat waited for her to proceed.

"When we left Earth three years ago, we were nothing to each other. Still, he wanted me to stay. He told me I was a Guardian of the Galaxy."

Her smile was small but sincere at the memory, a tear falling down her cheek from her misty eyes.

"I have known family only twice in my life. The first with my sister, and now... with him."

Nebula paused, the blinked several times. Uncrossing her arms, she revealed what she held; the Zune. For a long moment she regarded it, expressionless, then left Nat's side and for the first time entered the small room where Rocket lay. Natasha watched as Nebula, silhouetted by the light streaming in through the window, gently placed her hand on the bed near Rocket's feet before looking down at the Zune. After a few quick movements of her fingers, she seemed to find what she was looking for.

Music filled the air.

There's a light
A certain kind of light
That never shone on me
I want my life to be lived with you
Lived with you
There's a way everybody say

For a long while, Nebula stared down at her fellow Guardian as the song played, Rocket's chest rising and falling in a smooth rhythm. Then, to Natasha's great relief, she pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down.

It was about forty-five minutes later, when Nebula had fallen asleep for the first time since they'd returned to the compound, head lolled back in the chair, that the Black Widow decided to steal into the room and quickly place a small bowl of blueberries on the small table next to the sleeping Guardian. The next time Nat checked in, Nebula was awake, gazing at her friend.

All of the blueberries were gone.

*********

If you're travelin' in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
Oh she once was a true love of mine

Damn but his head frickin' hurt.

See for me if her hair's hanging down
It curls and falls all down her breast
See for me that her hair's hanging down
That's the way I remember her best

And jeez, what the hell was on his face? It was uncomfortable and sucked.

If you go when the snowflakes falls
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see for me if she's wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin' winds

Rocket opened his eyes and blearily took in his surroundings from where he lay on an uncomfortably soft bed. Okay, based on all the medical paraphernalia around him and the disturbing sterility of the room he was in, he'd gotten hurt down in them caverns. No wonder his head was throbbing.

Awe shit, the bomb.

Suddenly frantic, the only thought in Rocket's mind was to find Nebula. Luckily, he didn't have to look long. Only to his left, really.

Slumped in a small chair next to the bed, Nebula looked tired, perhaps a little unwell. The Zune was held limply in hands resting on her lap. There was a smell to her, definitely been a few days since she'd washed if what Rocket had gleaned in their time together was anything to go on.

Whatever. She was okay.

If you're travelin' in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Please say "hello" to the one who lives there
Oh she was once a true love of mine

"I guess I lived, huh."

Nebula jerked to attention, back straightening, hands suddenly gripping the arms of the chair.

"... Rocket."

Rocket smiled at her a little. "How long was I out?"

"Five days," she said weakly.

"Shit, really?" She nodded, "Musta been a good one."

"How could you be so foolish?" Nebula said, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

With that, she turned away from him, rounded the bed, and stormed out of the room.

... huh?

"Hey, hey!" Rocket said, pulling out all of the medical crap they'd hooked up to him. Finding his shirt and pulling it on over his head, he hopped down from the high bed with a groan.

Ouch

He left his room, head swiveling, then he spotted her, stomping away down the hall. He padded after her.

"What do you mean 'how could you be so foolish'? I'm sure what you meant to say is, 'oh gee, thanks Rocket so much for saving my ass.'"

"The situation was under control. You didn't save anything you idiot."

"I'm the idiot?" Rocket was completely bewildered, "How does that track, you're the one who tied him up?!"

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Nebula said dryly, stopping finally look back at him. He too halted.

"He had a bomb. In what frickin' world is that under control? What, it didn't occur to you to check if he maybe had a deadly explosive on his personage?"

"You don't know what I did or didn't do."

"You were two inches away from his face, what was I supposed to do? Just-"

"If you choose not to believe that I would not have been harmed, that's your business, BUT YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED."

Rocket practically jumped back. Nebula's breaths were coming hard. For a long few seconds she glared at him, teeth gritted. Then, heaving a heavy sigh, she looked at the floor.

"Why would you... Without you I have no one." She said, her voice low, quiet. "You are also not indestructible."

Awe man.

"I..."

Crap.

Rocket sighed, near as heavy as Nebula had, looking down

"Yeah, okay... " Rocket said finally, looking up at her again. Mouth in a tight grim line, he nodded, "Okay."

Nebula looked up at him and nodded back.

"Alright man, I'm hungry." He said. He'd forced his voice to be casual, but he couldn't stop his ears going flat on his head, "They got anything to eat around here?"

Nebula, rough and quick, swiped the back of her hand across her nose, sniffing. Tilting her chin up, she looked at him. It was a little hard to tell if she was still mad at him.

Finally, she said, "I know where to find food."

Rocket let go of a breath, smiling.

"Awesome, lead the way. But, ah, don't tell Romanov what we're doin', I got a feelin' she'll make another daring and disgusting attempt at a sandwich."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rocket saw Nebula smile.

Chapter Text

High on diesel and gasoline
Psycho for drum machine
Shaking their bits to the hits, oh

Drag acts, drug acts, suicides
In your dad's suits you hide

"So what, I just flick it?"

Nebula nodded.

"And try to get it to go in between your thumbs?"

"Yes," she said, looking eagerly at her fellow Guardian. She was hunkered down, already in position.

"Is this... supposed to be a game?" Rocket asked, brow furrowed.

Nebula straightened up, affronted, "You have a better idea?"

Rocket huffed a short laugh, saying more to himself than to Nebula, "What the hell, not like we're goin' anywhere."

They'd been drifting in space for about three days. The Benatar had taken a hit on their way out of Hinravio Prime and they'd stopped dead seven jump points later on the way to another distress call. Rocket had identified to problem pretty quick, the issue was there was nothing he could do about it. They'd sent out a signal to Danvers, and luckily she was relatively nearby and could help them out, get them what they needed. Unluckily, she said it'd take a week before she got to them. So, seventy-five hours in, the two Guardians had settled at the table, sitting on opposing sides, Rocket perched on a box so he was situated correctly, about to play a game Nebula had been aching to show Rocket since the first time they'd been to Earth two years and a half years ago. Finally, despite the less than ideal circumstances, they had some downtime. So, they turned off the distress call channel to lessen their guilt, and settled in.

As she sat waiting for him to fire, she was ever so slightly nervous.

Here they come
The beautiful ones
The beautiful ones
La, la, la, la

Here they come
The beautiful ones
The beautiful ones
La, la, la, la

"Okay," Rocket said, pinning the triangular piece of folded paper under a clawed finger, "like this?"

Nebula nodded, once again getting into position, smiling just a little. Rocket flicked the paper. It sailed far right of Nebula's goal. She watched it land dully on the table, then snapped her eyes back to Rocket.

"You missed." She informed him.

"How observant of you," Rocket said dryly, "C'mon, let's do this, stop puttin' off me kickin' your butt."

He posted up, Nebula rolling her eyes. Then, getting ready to flick, she looked at his goal and glared at him.

"What?!" Rocket asked confusedly.

"You're cheating."

"How?" He said, looking to his hands and back to her, "How is this cheating, I'm doing the exact same thing you did."

"The distance between your thumbs is far less than the distance between mine."

"Ain't my fault you got enormous damn hands."

"If you're going to cheat," Nebula said huskily, bordering on angry, "I'm not going to play,"

Rocket rolled his eyes, exasperated, "Alright! Damn." He prepared his hands again, this time his thumbs equidistance to Nebula's, "Happy, miss crabby-pants?"

Nebula sighed frustratedly, getting ready to flick. She'd assumed playing with Rocket would be a far cry from what playing with Stark had been like. Still, she was having fun, and it was nice to just play.

She hadn't really played much as a child. Or felt safe. Now, she was able to do both.

They flicked the paper back and forth ten more times, Rocket in the beginnings of getting the hang of it, when he paused.

"Hey," he said after the paper flew between his fingers, "I got an idea."

He slid out of his chair and headed over to the refrigerator, opening its door and rummaging around.

"What?" Nebula asked, watching him.

"I figured out what this game is missing." A moment later, he pulled out a bottle of booze, looking back to Nebula with a devilish smile, adjusting the goggles on his forehead. "Stakes."

*****

Rocket cackled, "What the hell was that?!"

"What?" Nebula asked.

"Dude, that was terrible!"

Nebula put both hands on the table. "You are down six points." She said, eyes wide.

"Yeah, but that went over my head!"

"Only because you are short."

They'd been at it for nearly an hour and had stopped playing for a specific amount of points. They'd lost track of everything except how large the gap in points was between them. By now, Rocket had definitely had quite a few more drinks than Nebula.

"Whatever," he responded chuckling, flicking the paper and missing as "(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher" faded out, "Your pick, Nebs."

Grabbing the Zune off the table, Nebula shuffled through it and quickly found the song she'd been eagerly craving for her turn to play. Rocket nodded at her choice as the intro started, a woman's smooth voice filling the room.

For once in my life I have someone who needs me
Someone I've needed so long
For once, unafraid, I can go where life leads me
Somehow I know I'll be strong

Nebula flicked the paper back to Rocket, making a goal and smirking at him. He, however, was already retrieving the paper and taking a shot.

For once I can touch what my heart used to dream of
Long before I knew
Someone warm like you
Would make my dreams come true

Rocket got ready to flick, Nebula posted up, but he halted, his eyes unfocused. It seemed as though he were listening. Slowly, his face changed to the expression that, through experience, meant Rocket might get personal.

This was always... interesting.

"So, ah, you like this one?" He asked her, voice a little more measured than usual as he flicked, actually making a goal. He looked up at Nebula expectantly as she took her shot. She wiped her mouth, then nodded.

"Yeah, I been hearin' it around here lately. Ain't bad. Them Humies ain't good at much, but they can make a decent piece of music."

Nebula nodded in agreement as she flicked. They countinued to play silently.

"Back on your home planet, what's it called."

Nebula's throat suddenly felt very tight.

"Luphom." She said, trying to keep her composure.

"Yeah, that. What kinda music they got out there?"

Nebula hesitated as Rocket took aim and scored. She threw back a shot, "I don't know."

"What? That's weird, man, how do you not know?"

"I don't remember."

Nebula's voice was thick as she flicked the paper back at Rocket, and from the way he was looking at her as his hands relaxed onto the table, he had noticed.

"You don't remember?"

Nebula picked up the Zune, stared at it for a moment, and pushed pause. Jean DuShon's voice cut out. She didn't look at Rocket, afraid she wouldn't be able to speak if she did.

"Thanos invaded my planet when I was three years old. He found me, took me, to mold me from childhood into a weapon. When my people fought back, he decided they were too strong. He burned my planet."

"So, all the others?" Rocket asked, voice strained. Nebula locked eyes with him. "Everyone?"

She nodded, "It's just me."

For a moment, Nebula's fellow Guardian could do nothing but stare at her. Finally, he leaned back.

"Damn." He nodded slowly. "That's shitty."

"Yes." Nebula's voice was rough, "It's shitty."

Once again, they both fell silent.

"Well," Rocket said, breaking the long quiet, crossing his arms, "of all the Luphomoids it coulda been, I'm glad it's you."

Nebula was somewhat alarmed by his comment, but then she smiled. A moment later he whipped his head to the side abruptly, suddenly alert.

"We got a message," he said, hopping down from his heightened seat and standing on the chair he still kept in front of the screen. Nebula sat back, watching, waiting, and strangely disappointed.

Rocket clicked the message; Carol Danvers' face appeared. She opened her mouth to speak, but Rocket immediately cut her off.

"Hey Nebula, look who it is! Captain frickin' Marvel!" Nebula smiled behind him as Danvers stared at him, eyes wide, mouth still poised to speak, "Hey Captain Marvel, you gonna save us?"

Carol's head tilted back as she furrowed her brow at him.

"Have you guys been drinking?"

"Yeah, and we're stranded, what's it to ya?"

"Easy, space rat, you're lucky I got here early. You know how bad it's been lately."

"Okay, yeah." Rocket said, waving her off. "Fair enough. You got everything on the list?"

"I'm headed your way with it now. Be ready, I can't stay long."

"Cool."

Danvers arrived about three seconds after the call had dropped. Rocket swiftly vaulted down from his chair, hurrying off to meet their savior in the airlock transfer. Nebula followed. When she arrived next to her fellow Guardian, Carol Danvers was already dumping her cargo.

"Whoa, whoa, watch it!" Rocket yelled, hands up as if to stop the avalanche of precious items, "What's the use of bringin' us this crap if it's busted?!"

She sighed, "You are easily they most high-strung guy I know."

"Maybe you just annoy me," Rocket said, leaning to sift through the parts, quickly finding what he needed and grabbing it. Wordlessly he left them, disappearing further into the ship.

"When last did you visit Earth?" Nebula asked, somewhat more tentatively than usual. She didn't know Captain Marvel very well.

"Not sure, few months?"

The Terran was looking around this ship with eyebrows raised. Nebula had to admit, after the modifications Rocket had done to their vessel over the years, it was definitely odd.

"Has there been trouble?"

"Not since you two took out the Kree. It looks like word might have spread about Earth's protectors." She turned to Nebula, squinting, "Are you aware that your face is stuck like that?"

"Yeah yeah, alright Humie." Rocket said, returning to them, pushing a purple button on the wall. Every function on the Benatar that had been busted surged to life, lights coming on all over. Rocket hadn't wasted any time. "Got anything else for us?"

"Just that I might be closing in on the Kree." Danvers said, "I've narrowed it down to two quadrants, we'll see."

"You're going to need help," Nebula said.

"I'll call." She heaved a sigh, "Kay. Later, losers."

"You're nuts, Danvers." Rocket said.

She gave them a tight-lipped smile then was gone, blasting off into whatever part of the galaxy needed her most.

"Weird," Rocket said, then turned to face Nebula, "It's gonna take an hour or so for the ship to get fully booted again. You wanna keep playin'?"

Nebula smiled, nodding at her companion.

Chapter Text

No... no...nooooo... no, no, n - yes.

Play.

Rocket, humming along to the song's intro, discarded the towel he'd been drying off with onto the table and rubbed at his shoulder as music filled the Benatar, trying to roll a kink out of his neck.

The drops of rain they fall all over
This awkward silence makes me crazy
The glow inside burns light upon her

Damn, he was tired.

Phyloral, the planet they'd gone to after Inaasgar, had been a mess, worse than most. Chaos, all over. They'd barely made it out of there with all their appendages.

Some quiet time would have been nice.

Before the snap, down-time had been a regular thing for the Guardians of the Galaxy. Between jobs, they'd all just sort of chill, hang out. After Thanos had snapped his fingers, Rocket had more of less assumed days like that were behind him, but Nebula had thawed out and changed so much in the past few years. She was irritable, yes. Constantly in a foul mood. And yeah, sometimes scary, but all in all? She was a cool guy. Gamora for years had talked about the prospect of Nebula catching up with them and joining the team. Rocket had never been totally sure how he'd felt about that, but now? Nebula was cool.

And he missed being able to just hang out with his family.

Clanging stomps resounded through the ship, emanating from the hallway behind him; Nebula, finished with her turn in the shower, stepped into the common area and beelined for the screen. She looked about as tired as he felt, admittedly more so.

"What's the next stop?" He asked, ferreting through their provisions for food packets, his favorite and hers.

Nebula clicked around, her fingers skipping across its surface as she tapped a planet, its image dominating the screen.

"Ju-douba 4."

Rocket hopped up onto his chair, setting his packet down on the table and sliding Nebula's across it to rest in front of her usual seat.

"What's the situation?"

"Most urgent is a tsunami, it hit the coast of the Jadoon province two months ago. Since then -"

"Lemme guess."

"Hundreds of children, unaccounted for."

"Terrific." Rocket said, slumping in his chair, arms crossed.

Nebula turned away from the screen, frustration apparent on her face. She joined him at the table and ripped into her packet, picking at her food with her fingers.

"Ya know," Rocket said, following suit, "I'm beginning to get a little tired of all this "not bringin' an end to the child trafficking" crap."

"Putting it mildy... Yeah."

Rocket laughed through his nose ruefully. What they were actually tired of was, after returning as many children as they could and setting up a system that would keep the as yet unclaimed ones safe and easily locatable by their parents (if they hadn't been dusted in the snap), telling everyone else whose children they didn't find that they were mostly likely off planet, unsafe, and that there was nothing they could do to help them.

Didn't feel very much like adequately guarding the galaxy.

"How many jumps?"

"Four."

"Might as well get movin'," Rocket said, grunting as he shimmied down from his seat, taking his food with him as he headed for the cockpit, "Them Ju-doubians ain't gonna save themselves. Oh, and hey, Nebs."

Nebula turned expectantly to face him as he stood just outside the entrance to the cockpit.

"I know you got a rep as the toughest broad in the galaxy, but leave me something to murder this go-around, okay?"

Nebula blinked at him. Rocket looked at her for a moment, then smirked, turning away to go punch in their new destination.

When his back was turned, Nebula watched him go, considering his words... Praise.

*********

The Kree, for a while now, had been aware of the steps Carol Danvers and the Guardians were taking to put a stop to their little business. They'd taken some steps of their own; they'd found a way to block the scanner Rocket and Nebula had been using to detect the clustered lifesigns of the kidnapped children that had been giving away their position. Five times they'd had to search blind through the destruction left behind by the disaster the Kree had hidden in, hunting them down. Three of those times, the Kree had been waiting for them.

So, the Guardians were going forward with caution. As they'd expected, when they touched down on Ju-douba, in the middle of the carnage wrought by the Tsunami, not a single lifesign was detectable.

"Welp," Rocket said, shrugging his enormous gun off of his back, "let's get goin'."

Nebula nodded, taking her blasters out of their holsters.

For a few hours they waded through the wreckage of the city, scouring all the spots that went along with the pattern established by the Kree in the years they'd been at this racket. Finally, reaching the center of the destruction, they came across a temple, large and damaged, bit not too damaged.

"Okay, whatcha thinkin'?" Rocket asked, looking up his fellow Guardian as they stood on the bottom step of the building they were considering.

"I'm thinking that there are many Kree lives that will be ended today."

"Ya know?" Rocket said, cocking his gun, "You're really good at the whole bloodthirsty sadist thing."

Nebula turned her eyes onto him. He tilted his head up at her with a small but rakish grin. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, expelling a small laugh through her nose.

Together, weapons at the ready, they entered the temple, stealthily penetrating into its farthest chamber, prepared for an ambuse at any moment. None came.

Well. Right place, wrong time.

"They were here..." Nebula peered through the darkness, clicking on the flashlight attatched to her shoulder, its beam illuminating wherever she turned. Rocket did the same, "It is deserted, but they were definitely here." She moved forward, still on guard, "They must have abandoned it in anticipation of our arrival."

"Ah shit, no kids?"

"No kids."

They looked at each other. This was not good.

"Well." Rocket said with a resigned sigh, "Looks like they left in a hurry." He lowered his enormous gun, his beam alighting on a small table with fresh food. Sidling up to it, Rocket sniffed it the half-eaten fruit. "Extremely recently, I'd say about an hour before we landed. Guess they're gettin' more careful about how long they stick around. Dammit."

The dark, windowless room held about eight large cages, identical to the ones the Guardians had seen at every other Kree outpost. The floor was littered with junk left behind in the apparent race to avoid tangling with the Guardians.

"I guess we outta check the place. Could be they left something beind that'll provide us some information."

Nebula nodded in agreement. They split up, each holstering their weapons, Nebula rummaging around in the debris on the floor as Rocket entered into the maze-like group of cages. He shone his light in each one he passed, scrunching up his nose against a smell that was worsening with every step he took. He finally reached the farthest cage and, when his light hit the back of it, he halted dead in his tracks. His knees turned to jelly, it was all he could do to stay upright.

"Awe man." He said quietly through an immediate thickness in his throat.

"What?" Nebula said, appearing by his side, looking at him expectantly. Following his gaze, she froze, a horrible nausea gripping her stomach.

Twelve children, huddled in the far corner of the cage, had been left behind. They were all dead.

For a moment, all they could do was stare, then Rocket looked up at Nebula. Her face was stoney, jaw clenched.

Robotically, she walked up to the cage, gripping is unlocked door. It opened with a creak and she stepped behind the bars, approaching the Ju-doubian children with heavy steps and getting down on one knee in front of them.

Rocket watched her and waited.

"They starved," she said, touching one of them on his emaciated green leg with the tip of her finger. Her eyes flicked over the other children, "All of them."

Rocket grimaced, the tone if his fellow Guardian's voice disturbing. His mouth felt cottony as he watched Nebula. She remained still.

"We gotta get 'em outta here." Rocket said finally, his voice deep, "I'm gonna go to the nearest inhabited town. Tell 'em what's goin' on."

Nebula nodded, her back still to him.

"... You up to this?" Rocket asked gently.

"Go," Nebula said, her deep voice flat and quiet, "I'll take care of it."

After a beat, Rocket nodded, "All right," turning away from her and quickly leaving the temple. He unholstered his gun and put on an aero-rig when he got outside. He glanced behind him back into the dark of the temple, then took off, heading for the nearest dense grouping of lifesigns.

********

That had been... unpleasant.

Rocket had never had to tell an entire town that not only had their children been whisked away into oblivion, but that a few of them wer lost, certainly and permanently. It hadn't been comfortable.

He had told them that he and Nebula would bring their children to them, that it was dangerous, but they refused, insisted that they follow him back. Luckily it was only half a mile. The look in their eyes as they fell in step behind him, all of them steeling themselves, clutching one another, wondering if they would be the unlucky one...

... damn.

When they arrived back at the temple, Nebula had already brought all of the children out. She had lain them out side by side just outside the entrance of what had been their tomb. Now she sat at the top of the steps, elbows resting on her knees, eyes staring into nothing. Catching sight of Rocket, she rose to her feet and waited for the Ju-doubians to gather at the bottom on the steps. Wordlessly, as Rocket arrived at her side, she went and picked up the child on the far left and carried her down to the awaiting parents, laying her at their feet.

A woman screamed, shoving forward and collapsing to her knees, pulling the little girl into her arms. As she sobbed, another woman came up behind her, a woman who looked almost identical to the child. She placed her hands on her wife's shoulders, gently pulling her to her feet, then bent to pick up her daughter. Tears sliding down her cheeks, she nodded at Nebula, ushering the wailing woman back through the crowd. They didn't stay, but began the long walk back to their home

It happened again and again. Rocket couldn't help but wince as cries of anguish echoed in his ears. He felt like an idiot just standing there, wished he could do something useful, but he was too small, much to small to assist Nebula as she went up and down the steps, over and over, being met with more and more screams.

The seventh child, however, a small girl with long black hair no older than nine, was greeted by silence. Nebula and Rocket looked out into the crowd, waiting. Still, no one came forward.

"She was alone," said a young man, voice weak as he cradled his own dead daughter. "Ever since Thanos."

Nebula nodded. Stooping low, she picked the girl back up and carried her over to Rocket, putting her beside him.

"What was her name?" She asked, her voice rough.

"Il'ayasha." Said an old woman, hands clenched to her chest.

Nebula nodded.

It continued, all five of the rest of the children being claimed. When no more was to be done, Nebula picked up the final child, the one who belonged to no one, and walked down the steps and into the crowd. Rocket followed just behind her, looking up at her intermittently, as they passed through the throng of people, heading toward the town where they'd all come from.

*********

Nebula and Rocket helped to dig the graves. It was the least they could do. No one had been saved that day. One by one, eleven children were put in the ground. It was Nebula who lay Il'ayasha down. The Guardian gazed at the small body for a long time before moving the soil to cover her, Rocket by her side.

"We'll, ah... we'll do our best to find your kids," Rocket said to the people standing over the graves, brushing off his hands to hide his discomfort. Nebula stood motionless beside him, eyes fixed on the ground, "And when we do, we'll bring 'em back to ya."

The mothers who had claimed the first child came forward, holding out a units transfer card, "Thank you, Guardians," said the one who looked like their daughter, earnest.

Rocket reached forward. Nebula looked at him sharply; he pulled his hand back.

"We can't take your units," Nebula rasped, "But we'll be back."

She walked away without another word. Rocket raised a hand half-heartedly to the Ju-doubians, then turned to follow her back to the Benatar.

It was a long, silent trek, and when they finally made it, finally closed the gangplank behind them, that's when the act dropped.

Nebula staggered into the common area and fell to her knees, all strength gone from her body. Rocket gazed at her for a moment as she sat slumped on the floor, then sighed, setting his gun on the table and rounding to her front, practically eye-level with her. She was staring down at her dirt-covered hands.

Rocket planted himself directly in front of her and waited.

"All they had to do was feed them," she said, voice husky, clenching her soiled fists in her lap. She looked up at Rocket, her eyes brimming with tears, but she was not sad; she was enraged, "Why didn't they feed them?"

Rocket could only frowned, brow knitted as he gazed at her. He couldn't remember ever seeing pain like this, and having it come out of Nebula?

Damn.

"Why didn't they just feed them?!" There was a harsh tremor in her voice. Rocket knew she was doing everything in her power to keep from shouting, "They didn't have to die, not any of them, and that little girl -"

A tear slid down her cheek and she breathed hard through her nose. She was shaking with fury.

"I know." Rocket said, voice low.

Nebula shook her head bitterly, looking down at the floor.

"Nebula," Rocket said. She didn't respond, "C'mon, look at me."

With a jerk, she did, inhaling deeply, fighting for some semblance of composure. Rocket's own anger flared as he looked at her, but he pushed it down.

"Listen a' me," he said, "We're gonna find where they're takin' them kids. And when we do, we're gonna save 'em. And we're gonna murder every last frickin' Kree shitbag we meet along the way. Okay?"

Her black eyes were boring deep into his. She looked like she wanted to scream, but instead she nodded. After a moment, though another tear fell, though the hatred did not leave her eyes, she gave him a tight smile.

Without thinking, Rocket moved forward and hugged her, wrapping his arms around her neck and bringing his chin down on her shoulder. After a moment that felt long and hollow, Nebula's tense body relaxed and she wrapped her arms around to his back.

It was definitely something they had never done before, but Rocket was surprised by how strange it didn't feel. How familiar it was. It was a feeling he'd had before, but then it had involved a little piss-ant of a tree who'd felt bad about ticking off his dad... and someone else, from a long, long time ago...

"We're gonna get 'em back." Rocket said, pulling away and placing his hand on her shoulder, "I promise."

Chapter Text

"We're goin' out."

Nebula looked up sharply from the finger she'd been fiddling with; it had been irritating her for days, stubbornly not bending with the others. Rocket was standing by the gangplank. He pushed a button and it lowered, Contraxia awaiting them outside; it had been the closest planet to them when they'd started running low on fuel. Rocket looked back at her expectantly.

He couldn't have said what she'd heard. Nebula reached for the Zune -

Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like...

- and turned it down.

"What?"

"This sitting around moping thing ain't doin' it for me, and you really gotta get out more. No offense, but the music playing around here lately isn't what I'd call cheerful, and you have very poor social skills."

She glared at him, but there wasn't any fire to it. It had been a month since Ju-douba 4, and Nebula hadn't been right. Rocket knew it. She hadn't been able to get those twelve children out of her head... especially the girl.

"I know a place around the corner from here, not too bad a spot."

A strange, squirming sensation permeated Nebula's stomach as she stared at her companion.

"I have never... gone out." She said

"I'm shocked," Rocket said flatly, crossing his arms impatiently as she glared at him, "Look, it ain't hard. The goal is pretty much exclusively to have a good time. You still like dancin'?"

Nebula nodded.

"Cool, so we're goin'."

After a moment of deeply uncertain consideration, Nebula nodded and stood.

"All right," Rocket said with a grin, grabbing one of his many gigantic guns and holstering it on his back.

********

It was, by far, the most unbearably loud situation she had ever been in.

The club Rocket had taken her to was decently well lit, warm lights dangling in teardrop shapes from the ceiling. Therefore, she was able to get an alright look at her new surroundings as Rocket jerked his head to the bar at the far end of the room, signaling for her to follow him. It was a dingy place, clearly not for high society. To her left there seemed to be games tables, people placing bets, shouting and laughing and arguing in a near-physical manner. To her right, the lighting was somewhat dimmer where people were dancing.

Her overall consensus? It was a rough place. Everyone looked dangerous, some were clearly armed, and most were very drunk.

Trying to keep it as unnoticeable as she could manage, she let her left hand hover next to her blaster as her eyes continuously scanned the room. Rocket glanced back to be sure she was still there and caught sight of her poised hand. He shook his head with a small smile, eyebrows knitted. When they got to the bar, Rocket, nimbly climbed up onto the stool. Looking around warily, Nebula took the seat on his right.

"Okay, first things first!" Rocket shouted over the din. Nebula leaned in to hear him better. "YOU gotta loosen up! So! We're gettin' three shots each and drinking them immediatley!"

"It would be unwise to become intoxicated here!" she yelled back, trying to find the balance between audible and discrete, "This environment is hostile. Unsafe."

"Exactly!" Rocket hollared back, drawing out the word and paying the bartender as he lay out the six shots they'd be sharing. He slid one of the glasses to Nebula and picked up one of the others, tossing it back the moment it was in his hand. Nebula raise her's cautiously to her lips, getting a wiff of what smelled like poison. Rocket laughed and took his next shot as she swallowed her first.

She'd had alcohol. This stuff was something else. It almost hurt to drink.

Two shots later and she felt... better? Her muscles had relaxed as she and Rocket talked about anything and everything besides work. He was laughing a lot, as he nursed a second shockingly tall glass of the blue stuff he seemed to like so much. After a while, Nebula asked for a taste, which he agreed to with a shrug, though he hurriedly grabbed it back with a scandalized, "Dude!" when she went to taste it again.

It was good. She got one of her own, just as tall.

It certainly wasn't what they had on the Zune, but the music wasn't so terrible, though far too loud. She felt eyes on her as she sipped her drink and turned to Rocket. He was smiling, eyebrows raised. Abruptly, she realized she'd been bobbing her head and froze. Rolling his eyes, Rocket leaned in and shouted;

"You like this one?!"

Nebula looked at the bartop, listening. Once she had accessed the music that was pulsing around her, she looked back up at him.

"It is good!" She shouted.

Rocket smiled, somewhat devilishly, then turned to the bartender. Before she knew it, there was another shot sitting in front of her. After a moment, she downed it, then looked at Rocket.

"Now what?"

"Now what?! Get out there, man!" Rocket said, throwing his hands up, exasperated, "That's what we came here for!"

Feeling chastized, she nodded vigorously, getting up off her stool and leaving his side. Weaving her way through the patrons, she made her way over to where everyone was dancing. It wasn't overly crowded, plenty of room between people. Uncomfortable on the edge of the group, Nebula pushed her way to the middle of the floor and, after a bit of hesitation, eyes shifting around at the feet of those surrounding her, she started to move.

Never having danced in front of anyone but Rocket, and that only by mistake, she was tentative, but the beat was slow, easy to follow. It wasn't long before she realized that no one around her was looking at her as she swayed back and forth, her neck jerking to the lower beats. There seemed to be no right way to dance.

To her surprise, it was enjoyable. A full hour later she was hot and thirsty and thoroughly diverted. Catching her breath as another song faded out, she turned in a circle, eyes darting all over the room for Rocket. She spotted him finally, over by the games, slamming something down on the table he was at, everyone else groaning around hi..

Dodging through the crowd, she made her way to him, pushing in next to where he was standing on his chair. He looked up at her with a smirk.

For some reason, that made Nebula feel like he was up to no good.

"How's it goin'?" He asked as she arrived on his left. The music was quieter by the table. Nebula was grateful not to have to shout.

"I am having fun," she said earnestly, stealing his drink, more of the blue concoction she'd come to enjoy. Unbeknownst to her, Rocket had his eyes on the prosthetic leg belonging to the Gahlarksian next to him.

"You wanna keep dancin'?" Rocket asked, laying five tokens on the table to the uproar of the others sitting around him.

Having thoroughly caught her breath, she nodded. Rocket grinned at her as she left his side and made her way back out to the dance floor, and as she danced, Nebula, for the first time, felt normal. Unspectacular. Not a daughter of Thanos, not a Guardian of the Galaxy. Just... normal

Then, her body stiffened. Someone was touching her.

A disturbingly muscular Shi'ar, the plumage on his head a deep red, had moved in on Nebula with a slimey leer, far too close for comfort as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Hey honey," he said over the music, "I saw you talkin'to that little freak of nature. Whataya say we ditch it and get outta here?"

Rage.

"That was a mistake," she said coldly.

The idiot said, "Huh?" the moment his hand touched the small of her back."

"HANDS OFF!" she yelled, voiced roughened by alcohol. She spun around, broke his arm, and used said arm to throw him to the ground. He screeched.

Seconds later, Rocket emergerd from the crowd of dancers that had backed away from her, gun drawn. He looked at the Shi'ar clutching his arm on the floor, then up at Nebula. His face split into a grin, brows furrowed as a mischievous gleam lit up in his eyes.

"HEY!"

About five Shi'ar broke away from the games area, rushing onto the dance floor, one of them bumping the pillar from where the music was apparently emanating. The song cut out, the crowd hushed, and everyone froze.

"All right, boys," Nebula said, breaking the tension as Rocket cocked his gun with with a sneer, "Let's dance."

Chaos.

She lost sight of Rocket immediately as their tall opponents swarmed the dance floor, but she could hear him yelling and laughing, blaster firing brightly as she focused on the three men around her. They tussled across the bar, her body cracking out of joint when their hits landed, then snapping back into place again when it was her turn.

Somehow, she ended up tumbling out of the bar in the mix of limbs. Out in the open, Nebula made quick work of the Shi'ar that had come outside with her.

As the men lay on the ground moaning, Nebula heard a commotion behind her. On guard, she turned just in time to see Rocket run out of the bar on all fours, smiling like a fool, something clanging every time his left hand hit the ground. Spotting Nebula, he made straight for her as a group of pissed off patrons came flooding out after him. As Rocket got closer, she was able to get a better look at what he had. She rolled her eyes.

He'd taken some guy's leg.

Arriving at her side and standing, Rocket held the leg up to her

"Hold this," he said breathelssly.

"Is this really necessary?" Nebula snatched it from him.

"Of course it's necessary!" Rocket said with a glare. He turned his attention to their pursuers, of whom there were suddenly more of (what rhe hell had Rocket done?), and began shooting at them, taking them out, non-lethally, one by one.

It was when he started cackling each time one hit the ground that Nebula rolled here eyes again, threw him over her shoulder, and ran for it, stumbling slightly in her inebriation.

Rocket kept shooting behind them. When they were finally out of his range, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "THANKS FOR THE UNITS, LOSERS!" Then laughed high in his throat.

*********

They practically tumbled onto the Benatar. In anticipation of their bar buddies locating them, they'd paid the people providing them with fuel and had gotten the hell out of there, Nebula rushing into the cockpit and sailing them through a good few jump points to cover their tracks.

Rocket, in a about a minute, had taken apart the prosthetic leg, humming to himself. He'd picked out the parts needed and was tinkering with them as they slowly dirfted through space.

"As nights out go," he said with a smile, twisting the machinery into place, his speech only a little sloppy from his mild intoxication, "I'd say that was a success!"

"That is what you call a success?" The Luphomoid said sternly, exiting the cockpit, "We partook in a drunken brawl."

"Yep," Rocket said, combining one small mechanism with another.

"Someone, a civilian, could have been hurt."

"Did you have fun?" Rocket asked, turning to her with a broad smile, the finished product in his hand.

Nebula stared at him for a moment, the blaze in her black eyes fading.

"Yes."

"Do you wanna do it again?"

A short pause-

"I do."

"Then what the crap are you complaining for?" He asked, standing and going towards her, hopping up onto the table, "Gimme your stupid hand," he said, holding up what he had made.

A finger, exactly the same as the ones Nebula had on her cybernetic hand. No wonder he'd grabbed the leg. Nebula held out her hand and in a few quick flicks of his wrists, her malfunctioning finger was gone, the new one attatched perfectly.

Nebula bent her joints; they functioned correctly. She nodded at Rocket.

"Alright then," Rocket said, leaping over to stand in front of the screen, clicking away at call after call, "Lets keep protecting the frickin' universe."

Chapter Text

Nebula wasn't sure how she felt about Rocket's new clothes.

She was eyeing him from where she was leaning on the threshold to the hallway, sharpening her knives. The chair having finally been moved back to the table, Rocket was standing on a box in the front of the screen, tapping around, brow furrowed in concentration.

Nearly a week ago, Rocket had gone to get provisions, and when he'd come back he'd disappeared into his quarters. Thirty minutes later he'd reappeared, wearing a blue jacket lined with red, clasped over the right side of his torso. He'd adjusted the matching trousers as he crossed the room and rounded the table. That's when she'd seen the boots.

Rocket had never worn boots before, and it struck her as oddly shocking.

He hadn't seemed bothered, clearly didn't think anything of it, so Nebula hadn't made comment. Still, it was odd seeing him in anything but what he'd always worn, the strange wardrobe that seemed to be meant solely for him.

"Oh no."

Nebula was catapulted out of her musings. Her body stiffened at the quiet, despondent timbre of Rocket's voice, suddenly alert as she clattered her knives down on the table and hurried to stand on his left.

"What is it?" She asked, eyes scanning the screen.

"The Multi-calendar..." he said plainly.

Nebula looked at him; he wasn't acting like he usually would during a high-priority distress call. His brow was still furrowed, but not in anger or concentration. Nebula looked at the calender and instantly understood why.

There, in the top left corner, was listed three days of significance. One of them was for Terra. June 20th 2022. Below that it read "Day of the Vanished."

Pain clutched tight around Nebula's stomach. Last year, they had marked the occasion, finally able to talk about it, comfortable telling stories. This year? Nothing.

"Four years." She said, trying to push down the thickness in her throat.

"Yeah," Rocket's voice sounded about the same as her's.

Four years since their lives had changed forever, and they were both thinking the same thing. Nebula was the one to voice it.

"We forgot."

Rocket didn't say anything. His only response was the deepening of his frown as he gazed at the date. Then his eyes moved to the rest of the screen, taking in all of the distress calls on the universal frequency that they had yet to answer.

"It's gettin' better out there, ain't it." His voice was low.

"Slowly, but yes. It is."

"Yeah." Rocket said, "I guess it had to, sometime or other."

People still needed help, and there was always a catastrophe around the corner, but all in all in the galaxy they were guarding? Things had slowed down, if only a little.

Nebula and Rocket stared in silence together at the screen.

"Is it wrong that I don't want it to get better?"

Nebula's eyes snapped to Rocket, shocked, but as he continued staring, face unchanged, at the screen before them, the more Nebula mulled over his words, the better she understood.

If the universe healed, if some semblance of normalcy was achieved, Thanos was right. The sacrifice of half of eveything, all the people she and Rocket loved, would be justified. Necessary. Generations to come on every planet would learn of what her father had done, and it wouldn't be the names of those who had disappeared that would be remembered, they would fade into oblivion. It would be his. He would he their savior.

A grateful universe.

"No. It is not wrong."

Rocket nodded, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a long red piece of cloth. He stared at is as he held it draped over both of his gloved hands.

"Quill's scarf," he said, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. His voice was deep, distant. "I found it the other day, just lying around. He never was any good at puttin' his crap away, used to annoy the hell outta Gamora. Don't know how I missed it for so long."

Rocket sighed deeply, then, closing his eyes, dipped his head forward and wrapped the scarf loosely around his neck.

"I dont wanna forget, Nebs." He said, looking up.

"Don't worry," Nebula said, "We won't."

Rocket, trying to ignore the wetted fur beneath his eyes, nodded.

Chapter Text

"Ya know, you coulda just got one." Rocket said

Nebula looked up at him, coming out of her thoughts.

Pressing play on the Zune, Rocket went to sit on the floor where he'd strew twenty or so parts for the device he was working on. Nebula took them all in; four months into their fourth year together, she'd gotten to the point where she could sometimes guess what would become of the seeming mechanical chaos that so often surrounded him. If she was correct, this was going to be a gun. A very big one.

"One what?" Nebula asked, looking back down as she sat at the table, tightening the mechanisms in her left arm.

"One of them things that lady had on today, outside a' the shop." He twisted two things together, looking the combination discerningly, then shaking it satisfactorily before setting it off to the side, "The yellow thing on her head."

It took Nebula a moment to piece together what he'd said.

"Her head scarf?"

It was still occasionally astounding to her, three months into her fourth year living him, that the smartest person she had ever met was sometimes just... a little stupid.

"Yeah, whatever. We probably even mighta got you that one."

Well, the south side of Chicago
Is the baddest part of town
And if you go down there

"I'm not exactly fond of wearing things that were stolen from civilians." She said, eyes hooded as she looked at him.

"C'mon, whadaya mean? I wasn't gonna steal it, I was gonna be really polite!"

"Oh please," Nebula said, tired incredulity written on her face.

"What, I can be polite!" He said, looking back at her, "You don't think I can be polite? I was just gonna go and say, "Hey nice lady, the chick I'm with likes your head thing, you should very much give it to her.'"

"I didn't like her head thing."

"Okay, whatever, scarf, and yeah you did, I saw you." He said, looking up at her and waving around a trigger mechanism for emphasis. "You did that weird thing you do with your face where you try not to look at a thing and end up looking at it even more."

Nebula's head lolled back, irritation approaching, "Dude."

"What, I'm just sayin! Besides, you only got like, what, three shirts? I bet the yellow thing'd look nice. I mean c'mon, accessorize a little bit."

"Like how you've done with your boots?" She said, somewhat scathingly.

"Hey man, I least I friggin -"

A message pinged onto the screen. Nebula closed up her arm and stood, going to it.

"Who is it?" Rocket said, going back to his tinkering.

"Danvers." Nebula said.

Rocket sighed, "Ah boy," he said under his breath, standing to turn off the Zune. The music cut out and he went to stand next to his fellow Guardian, hopping up onto his box and crossing his arms, "Better answer it, see what Captain Good News wants now."

Nebula tapped the icon on the screen.

"Alright, whadaya got for us this time?" Rocket said as Carol Danvers appeared before them. "Another cosmic disaster for us to get you out of?"

Carol looked at Nebula, mouth in a tight line, brow furrowed.

"And didn't you have more hair?" Rocket continued, "What's with the -"

"It's called a haircut," Danvers said, pointing at her hair as it hung just above her shoulders, "you get to have them when you're not covered in fur."

Nebula exhaled through her nose, shaking her head subtly.

"I apologize. He is being an idiot."

Rocket looked up at her, scandalized.

"Yeah," Danvers said, "I think I'm getting used to it."

"What is it?" Nebula asked.

"You said I'd need help, I said I'd call, so here I am."

Nebula and Rocket looked at each other, then back at the screen.

"Wait, you found em? The kids?" Rocket asked earnestly.

"They're on Morag."

"Morag? Hold on," Rocket looked up at Nebula, "ain't that where Quill found the Power Stone?"

"Yes. That planet is in ruins," Nebula added.

"Exaclty. It's the perfect hiding place for an operation of this size. No one visits planets that are uninhabitable."

"Okay. We're in," Rocket said.

"When will you be ready?" Nebula asked.

"Whenever you are."

"We're ready."

She nodded at the Guardians. "See you there."

The signal went dead, Danvers disappearing.

"Alright," Nebula said, looking down at her companion.

Rocket grinned up at her diabolically, "Let's go murder some douchebags."

Chapter Text

The Guardians stood at the top of the gangplank of the Benatar. The planet of Morag's perpetual storm was whipping around them, and as they waited for their rendezvous they were doing their best to stay out of it. The terrain was rough and craggy and dark clouds obscured the soft oranges, reds, and pinks of the sky.

They'd cloaked the ship coming out of the last jump point in anticipation of Kree surveillance on the planet's surface. Unsure of what to expect.

"So where's Danvers?" Rocket shouted above the storm.

"Right here."

Captain Marvel descended in front of them, the plasma-like yellow and blue energy that coursed around and through her fading away as she touched down.

"Yeah, great, that isn't conspicuous at all." Rocket said sarcastically, crossing his arms.

Danvers cocked her head as she looked at Rocket with a squint. "You're always so much shorter in person."

"Yeah, ha ha, keep laughin' humie."

"I think that's enough bullshit for the moment." Nebula said.

Rocket looked up at her, startled by her firm tone. Her black eyes swiveled down to him. He could see that the muscles in her jaw were clenched hard.

Okay, message recieved loud and clear.

"Yeah, alright." He said, turning back to Danvers. "What's the situation?"

********

"Rough estimate, based on all 56 planets that have been involved here, and the number of kids reported missing on each, my count? Should be about 3,400. You?"

"3,400." Nebula responded gruffly, "How many are here?"

"According to my readings, 3,953."

"Wait, you mean they're all here?" Rocket said, baffled, ears perking up.

"Looks that way." Danvers said.

The three of them were in the dry comfort of the Benatar. Carol stood, hands on her hips, near the entrance to the ship. Nebula was standing by the screen, having pulled up a detailed image and histroy of Morag. Rocket stood on the table behind her.

"Why would the children be kept here?" Nebula asked, eyes inspecting the image on the screen, tapping and swiping around to examine different details. "What are they doing with them?"

"From what I've seen, the Kree are building up an army." Carol said, stepping slightly further into the common area for a better look at what the Guardians were doing, "Weapons, armor, they're all being manufactured by the kids."

"An army? So what, they're gonna start up on all that interplanetary war crap?" Rocket said, "Half a' the Kree were wiped out, just like everyone else. Add up all the assholes we've taken care of, they ain't got the manpower to square off with anyone."

"The kids."

Nebula had said it quietly, her low voice shaky. Rocket and Danvers looked at her.

"What about them?" Carol asked, brow furrowed.

"If you torment a child, torture one even to the brink of death, you can mold them into whatever tool you please. Just as long as you pretend to love them enough."

Nebula's black eyes were unfocused as a beat passed between the three of them, as though she were looking into another world.

The words of his companion sank in. Rocket said, "You mean -"

"Yes," Nebula said, turning around to face him. Her eyes swimming with memories Rocket felt far too keenly. Mixed with her unshed tears, there simmered a quiet, barely contained rage. "They are creating soldiers."

They looked at one another, Rocket swallowing hard as the gravity of their circumstances settled over them.

For some of these children, it had been years. It might not be just the Kree who they were up against.

"All right, Danvers," Rocket said, his already strong sense of determination doubling, "what's the plan?"

**********

It turned out that Denvers hadn't had much of a plan. She had briefed them on the situation; Morag was cavernous, and said caverns penetrated deep under the planet's surface. The Kree had situated themselves in one of the grandest, its depths reaching miles, its entrance a dark maw definitely suitable for swallowing as many children as it saw fit. The moment Rocket had seen it, it had become a non-option.

"I've looked over this entire area. Twice." Carol said, voice slightly raised to get through the rain, "there's no other access point."

"Yes there is." Rocket had responded matter-of-factly as he looked through a pair of binoculars, scarf hanging soaked around his shoulders. He handed them off to his companion, pulling his goggles down over his eyes, "Okay, Nebula, look at the border around the mouth a' the thing."

Nebula's eyes roamed over what Rocket was pointing at. They were a hundred yards from the Kree hideout, tucked safely behind an outcropping of rock.

"It does not function soley as a cave." She said, taking the binoculars down from her eyes.

Carol took her turn, then handed the binoculars to Rocket.

Around the edge of the cave's entrance, though eroded by time and the harsh elements, was carved stone decorated with symbols, stylistic swoops and swirls.

"Exactly. Place made up that fancy? Yeah, no way it was just a cave. And a cave that ain't just a cave has gotta have a back door." Rocket turned to Danvers, "You said you checked the perimeter?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"Did you see anyone anywhere that is not the creepy-ass main entrance?"

"Nope." Carol smiled, catching on.

"Well then," Nebula said, a murderous spark igniting in her black eyes, "I guess our little visit is going to be a surprise

********

Rocket seemed to go on autopilot as they set off in search of the back way into to caverns. He'd pulled out a device from one of his many pockets, said, "Good thing Quill was a damn hoarder," and pressed a button; a projection of the planet's past appeared before them. In the first two locations they checked, nothing. In the third? There it was, plain as day, carved into a flat section of the rock face. A door, with a deep seam cutting down the middle.

How he had narrowed it down so drastically in an area of possibilities spanning miles Nebula couldn't guess.

"I got this," Danvers said.

Stepping forward, she wedged her fingers into the seam of the door, pulling it apart. She didn’t break a sweat.

"I'll be damned," she said, turning to look at Rocket, a small smile playing in her lips. "Good thinking, small fry."

"Okay yeah, can we get to it already?"

Now, Rocket had mentioned to Nebula once that he had escaped twenty-three prisons. Nothing in her time with him had ever given her reason to believe otherwise. She did wonder as they went about their mission, however, if it had ever been required of him to break into one.

Essentially, that's what they were doing

Nebula and Rocket each activated the flashlights on their shoulders, the beams revealing a long, carved out, rectangular tunnel.

"Be on guard." Nebula said as she took the first steps out of the rain and into the darkness, "We have no idea how deep the Kree have penetrated into the caverns."

The group proceeded in silence. The air grew stuffier the further in they went. The walls were lined with long-extingushed lamps that they didn't dare light again. Now and then, a passage shot off to the side from the winding main thoroughfare, usually leading to a great hall or small chamber that seemed to have been used as a home.

Finally, nearly an hour into their trek, they heard -

"Voices," Nebula hissed.

Rocket's superior ears picked up the details.

"Kids."

They all three looked around at each other, then turned down the beams of their flashlights. More quietly than ever, Carol, Rocket, and Nebula moved forward, and around two more bends they saw a light at the end of the passage.

Rounding that final corner, they found them. After years, so many years, they'd finally found them.

The light of the lamps hanging from the high ceiling was dim, but that didnt stop the Guardians of the Galaxy and Captain Marvel from seeing the four long rows of cages, at least forty of them in all. Inside? Children, of every creed, color, and shape imaginable.

And the state they were in...

The ones the three hopeful saviors could see? Their clothes were threadbare, hanging off of their bodies. The ones that were awake stared out from behind the bars, eyes owlish. Most of them were sitting, leaning on each other. About half of them seemed to be asleep. The smell or them was terrible.

All were starving. Bruised. Cut. Beaten.

"Oh my God." Nebula said weakly, covering her mouth with her hand. She could barely bring her voice above a whisper

Rocket, gun lowering as the strength left his arms, simply stared, eyebrows knitting together as his lips parted.

Some of the children in the nearest cage turned to them as Nebula’s words traveled through the darkness. Word spread among them and they rushed to the side of the cage when they saw the Guardians and Danvers, wrapping their hands around the bars separating them from escape.

Carol, immediately after Nebula's quiet exclamation, put her finger to her lips. They all approached the nearest cage, eyes peeled for any Kree they might have to worry about. As they got closer, many of the smallest of the children drew away, eyes wide with fear.

"It's okay," Carol whispered, hands up as she got down on one knee, "We're not gonna hurt you."

"We're gonna get you guys outta here," Rocket added, putting his gun on his back.

Grabbing hold of the lock, Danvers snapped it with a twist of her fingers.

Nebula hadn't moved, hand still over her mouth. Her mind felt like it were stuttering, racing, thought after thought rushing through her head;

Torture. Pain. Thanos. Gamora. Thanos. Fighting. Killing. Pain. Torture. Thanos. Pain pain pain -

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Rocket was looking at her over his shoulder as he and Carol were ushering the children out of the cage, a clear question in his eyes;

You got this?

Nebula pulled her hand away from her mouth with a jerk, her posture straightening from the slightly hunched position it had taken on. Tilting her chin up, she nodded.

He nodded back with a small, rakish smile.

Chapter Text

"Alright guys, last one in this hall," Danvers said, snapping the lock in the final cage and shaking out her hand. "My fingers are killing me."

Rocket had been setting up projectors as they went, scanning the children and setting a holographic image of them up in the cages as they made their way down the hall in the hopes of detering any potentially threatening eyes. Nebula, scouting ahead, had silently killed the ten Kree soldiers on guard.

Once the first cage was cleared, they'd led the first batch of twenty down the passage they'd arrived through, instructing the older kids to lead the little ones into the offshoots to hide, then guide the rest of the batches as they came along.

The next three chambers they came upon were almost exactly the same; fourty cages, each filled with children ready to be released and sent home. Systemetically, for five hours, they had been setting them free and killing any Kree that got in their way. That task Nebula and Rocket had started to rotate, Rocket telling her, "It ain't fair, you gettin' to commit all the murderin'."

"How many have we freed?" Nebula asked, dropping her deep voice down to a whisper as the fourth chamber was finally emptying, wiping blood off of her knives.

"2,739," Danvers said, leading them to the exit.

Rocket's eyebrows raised, "2,739? Dude, that's already more than half."

"A lot more," Nebula added.

"We're definitely not gonna be at this much longer at that - "

"Don't come any closer."

Nebula, Rocket, and Carol stopped mid-step. They peered into the tunnel leading to the next chamber, searching for the source of the small, frail voice that had spoken out of the darkness.

It was a boy, maybe fourteen years old, standing fifteen feet in front of them, blocking their progress. His long blond hair was matted and he was far too thin, but the clothing he wore was tidy, seemingly new.

And his face...

Even through the darkness, Nebula could see the deep scars peppering his light orange skin. Some were new, but most? Shiny, healed, old.

In his shaking hand, he held a blaster. It was pointed directly at them.

Rocket's face fell. "Awe crap."

All three of them put their hands up, Nebula's knives dropping to the floor.

"I'm supposed to tell them you're here." The boy said, his aim cycling between Rocket, Nebula, and Carol.

"Hey, it's alright. It's cool. What's your name?" Danvers said to him, voice calm, going to take a small step forward.

"Don't move." he said, taking a step towards them, reaffirming his grip on the weapon he held.

Carol froze.

He continued, a tremor in his voice, "I'm supposed to kill you."

"Okay, you don't gotta do that." Rocket said, eyebrows raised, ears perked up; completely alert, "All we're tryin'a do is get all you guys outta here."

"Shut up!" the child took another step forward.

Rocket's upper lip curled back, ears lying flat and eyes glued to the kid's hand as it trembled worse than ever. Then, quietly, the child said;

"She'll be proud of me."

A terrible lump rose in Nebula's throat.

"No she won't." She said, her deep voice thick.

Rocket looked up at her, brows raised nervously.

"Yes she will." Tears were brimming in the boy's eyes. "She'll reward me."

Pain. Torture. Thanos. Pain pain pain.

Nebula blinked away the heat behind her eyes.

"You're right." she said, "She will. And for a while? All will be well, and you will be safe. But when next you fail she will hurt you. And it will happen over, and over, again and again. It will never end. The pain will never stop."

The boy's arm lowered, just a little, tears finally streaming down his face. Nebula ached with the weight he was feeling.

"There are people waiting for you." Nebula continued. Slowly, her movements measured, she began walking toward him, hands still raised, black eyes never leaving his ice blue ones. He was a head shorter than her. Still so small, "people who will not hurt you. We can take you back to them."

The boy stared at her, the silence between them stretching.

Finally, voice weak, broken, he said,

"Can I go home now?"

Her own voice cracking, Nebula said, "Yes."

The boy loweded his gun, body sagging as Nebula took the weapon from him. Then, before Nebula could comprehend what was happening, two shots rang out through the cavern, one directly after the other. The child in front of her, eyes suddenly wide, gasped, then coughed.

Blood splattered Nebula's face.

With a shudder, the boy crumpled to the ground, dead, a horrible bloody wound in his back. As he fell, a Kree woman was revealed behind him, a hole in her chest. She too, gurgling as blood bubbled out of her mouth, fell dead to the ground.

........

"Nebs."

Rocket's voice didn't peirce through the low hum in Nebula's ears. A terrible numb washed over her as she swayed on her feet, trying to blink away the blood. Her suddenly limp hands let the boy's gun slip out of them, sending it clattering to the floor. She fell to her knees, staring down at the child lying pale and motionless in front of her. A pressure was building in her chest, her throat, her stomach. She felt as though she were about to fly apart as she reached out and put her hand on his still arm.

Rocket appeared by her side, eyes level with her's.

"C'mon, we gotta go," he said. He was squinting into the darkness ahead of them, gun aimed into it, "most likely someone heard that. If we don't get movin', we're screwed. Nebula." She didn't respond, didn't stir, "Nebula."

"Rocket," Danvers hissed though the dark, fists pointing down the tunnel, eyes wide, "We don't have time for this. We have to go."

Rocket ignored her, turning his eyes to his fellow Guardian.

"Nebula," Rocket said, holstering his gun on his back and planting himself in front of his companion.

She could hear him, knew he was near, but all she could feel was rage, pushing its way through the shock as her eyes filled with tears.

"Nebs."

Lip trembling, taking a sharp breath through her nose, Nebula looked up with a jerk, black eyes stabbing into him. His copper eyes were locked on her, brows knitted as a single tear fell down her cheek.

Rocket took her in, eyes traveling over her face. Rage was all he could see. Her teeth were gritted as she breathed hard, practically shaking. The wetness of her black eyes couldn't douse the horrid inferno burning in them.

Rocket knew that kind of rage. Knew it wouldn't do shit but get a whole lot of people hurt.

Oh man.

"I'm about to go through that stupid tunnel," he said to her, voice low, "and I'm gonna kill a bunch'a jerk-ass pricks because I'm really sick a' kids dying. I know you're pissed, and I know what they've been doin' here burns you, but if we don't keep it together and get a little composure, a lot of the wrong people are gonna get hurt."

Slowly, as Rocket gently spoke, Nebula's breathing slowed. Her clenched fists tightened as she swallowed hard, pushing down her fury.

"You gonna help me?" Rocket asked, eyebrows raised as he awaited her answer.

Nebula, looking deep into his eyes, took a shuddering breath. Blinking her tears away, she nodded. Standing, eyes blazing forward into the darkess, she wiped the blood off of her cheek.

Carol, letting her arms fall to her sides, took a deep breath. Stooping down, she picked up Nebula's knives and went to her, holding them out. Nebula looked at her at her and took them, gripping them tight. They nodded at one another, Danvers giving her a small smile.

********

"Guess we found the rest of them," Carol said, ducking back down behind the low wall beside the entrance to the tunnel they'd just come out of.

The last three chambers they'd gone through had contained nothing but empty cages, not a child or Kree in sight. They'd gone foward silently, on guard, but it wasn't until the fourth chamber, twice as large as any they'd been in, that they encountered another soul.

"Well, I guess you did say they were buildin' up an army." Rocket whispered.

At three long tables spanning the length of the hall and surrounded by guards, were the children. They were all working, the machinery in front of them sparking and smoking as weapons and armor were produced then carried away.

The were exhausted, hungry. Many were crying, and all were looking over their shoulders as the armed Kree middled amongst them.

Rage flared in Nebula's heart. Her body ached for her to burst forward, but she felt a hand on her left shoulder. Looking, she saw Rocket, mouth a thin line of concern. Clenching her jaw, Nebula nodded at him.

Calm.

He nodded back.

"My scanner is picking up 1,214 non-Kree juvenile lifesigns." Carol said, looking at her reading.

"All here." Nebula said, a rasp in her deep voice.

"How about Kree?" Rocket asked.

"312." She answered, stashing the device away and turning to the Guardians. "All right, let's get to work."

Nebula nodded again, looking down to tighten the sheaths around her waist and check her blasters. Then something caught her attention; the Zune was hovering in front of her vision, held out to her by Rocket. She looked at it for a moment, then up at him.

The way he was looking at her...

"All you, Nebs." He said, quietly enough so that only she could hear.

Nebula pushed away the burning behind her eyes, her fingers brushing his small clawed ones as she took the Zune from his hand.

Out of his pocket, Rocket pulled three discs. Peering over the rubble, he sent them like frisbees up towards the ceiling where they stuck, cutting into the rock.

Nebula knew exactly what song she wanted. She found it quickly, then handed the Zune back to Rocket. After looking at her fellow Guardian, who nodded at her choice, a moment longer, she closed her eyes as he pushed play; the sounds of children playing and counting filled the air. When the instruments followed -

"Listen!"

"They're here!"

"The Guardians of the Galaxy!

"Get rid of the kids! Spread out!"

"Find them!"

- the Kree were on their feet, taking cover, searching for the intruders, ushering the children away down the many offshoots dotted along the walls. Then, just as the scream of a child pierced the air from the speakers on the ceiling, Nebula opened her eyes. Rocket was looking back at her, a determination and rage in his eyes that mirrored what she felt in her gut.

When the scream ended, they jumped into the fray.

The Guardians of the Galaxy moved forward through the cavernous hall, Rocket covering the left, craftily ducking under and weaving around the table as he fired his gun. Nebula took the right, shooting as Kree after Kree came running at her, not bothering to take cover or dodge. Captain Marvel, like a cannon ball, jumped onto a table and went up the middle of the hall, energy bursting from her fists, kicking machinery into whoever got too close, taking down everyone in her way as music swirled around them. By the time the lyrics began, more than fifty Kree were already dead.

You were a child, crawling on your knees toward it
Making momma so proud
But your voice is too loud

Rocket reached into his pocket, grabbing a handful of thirty bright red beads and throwing them to his left as a hoard apporached; they magnetized to the twenty-three Kree that were approaching him, weapons poised, and exploded. They barely had time to look surprised. Rocket grinned, turning in a circle to throw more at the enemies closing in behind him. He cackled, turning his attention to the Kree taking the place of the ones he'd killed, muzzle of his gun flashing.

Nebula, shooting her way into the heart of thirty Kree, pulled her knives with a scream. They came at her in a swarm, but she attacked with an unmatched, unbridled rage. With every thrust and slice of her weapons, Kree blood was spilled on the ground, the last thing they heard being her wrathful cries. Her body was thrown around, bent and disjointed, nearly destroyed, but she didn't care, didn't stop.

We like to watch you laughin'
You pick the insects off plants
No time to think of consequences

Carol barreled through her share, each punch and every kick sending the Kree careening from her touch, the screams and laughter of her companions echoing eerily in the cavern.

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Seventy, eighty, ninty, one hundred Kree traffickers hit the ground as the three companions subconsciously moved toward each other.

The water is warm
But it's sending me shivers
A baby is born crying out for attention

All the while, the Kree had been pushing in on them, their numbers too much, and suddenly the Guardians and Captain Marvel found themselves back to back in the center of the hall, breathing hard and surrounded.

They all glanced at one another as the disheveled Kree reloaded their weapons and breathed, pressing in. Nodding, they backed up towards one another.

The memories fade, like looking through a fogged mirror
Decisions to decision are made but not bought
But I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot, I guess not

Without warning, Nebula fell to her knees onto Rocket's level as glowing energy burst out of Captain Marvel, knocking down every Kree within a twenty foot radius. She rose three feet into the air, the light running through her veins coursing around her as her brown eyes glowed, blasts shooting from her hands.

Below her, Rocket and Nebula spun around back to back, screaming, relentlessly firing their guns into their enemies.

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Carol touched down, moving to the right on top of a table as Nebula got onto a table to the left, Rocket on her shoulder. While the two women killed Kree after Kree as they walked down the long tables, dispatching the guards standing outside of the offshoots as they went, a line of Kree in the middle of the hall was forming, full of panic, scrambling around on the center table. Rocket, with a smile, fished into his pocket and leapt from Nebula's shoulder onto the the back of the nearest Kree, smacking an electo-disk hard on his throat, incapacitating him long enough to get out of range as he jumped from one Kree to the next. When that pocket was empty, he moved to the next one and continued.

The music pounded around them as they made their way down the long hall for almost a full minute, killing as they went. Kree after Kree fell to the ground, but many of the injured were rising behind them, struggling to their feet.

The music slowed and quieted as Nebula and Danvers jumped to the floor as the tables they were on ended, Rocket rolling to the ground off of the last Kree. He looked between the two of them and, just as another scream tore out of the speakers, pressed a button on his arm.

Seventy Kree, all at once, were electrocuted, bodies convulsing as Rocket smiled.

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Danvers rose high up into the air, blasting holes in the chests of the Kree regaining their footing along the walls.

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Meanwhile, Rocket and Nebula climbed onto the center table, ducking and moving around one another with alacrity as they worked their way back across the hall, shooting with deadly intent and precision as they went.

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of trees wanted to be haunted

Control yourself
Take only what you need from it
A family of treeeeeeeees....

The music faded out. Rocket and Nebula jumped off of the table as Carol landed gracefully next to them.

Rocket, holstering his gun on his back, looked up at Nebula; she was gazing placidly at her arm. Then she raised a hand to her face; there were pieces of her missing, her inner workings exposed.

They heard a sound.

All three of them turned toward it, prepared to kill, but it was only a child, peeking out of one of the many offshoots. A girl, no older than five. Carol smiled at her warmly, and the girl beckoned behind herself. As she moving out into the hall, stepping over the bodies of her former captures, more children appeared behind her, then more coming out of the other side-caverns. Soon, all 1,214 children were standing in front of them, weak, tired, but waiting.

"So," Carol said with a small smile, "Who wants to go home?"

Delight spread from child to child as her words traveled over them.

**********

They sent out the signal only an hour after, calling to Morag all fifty-six planets where the thousands of children called home. Ships began arriving near immediately, parents and officials pouring out of them almost as soon as they landed.

Rocket and Carol tried to herd the kids as best they could into groups of like race, their guradians racing through the unceasing rain. Everywhere they looked there were tears, eyes lighting up in recognition, embraces. Names were being tallied as each of the children climbed onto the ships that would take them home. It was a slow process, arduous, but if any one of the people giving care to these kids had anything to say about it, not a single one of them would be missed.

Nebula...

She sat next to the boy. She'd carried his body out of the depths of the cavern and laid him down under an overhang of rock to keep him out of the rain. Near her, twenty feet away, the rest of his race was gathered. Two small children, when they had seen her and the body, joined her. One, the older of the two, perhaps nine, rested her head on the boy's chest. The other, no older than five, sat on Nebula’s left, slipping her hand into the Guardian's.

For hours they stayed this way as the rain fell around them until, finally, the people arrived who would take them away. Nebula stood, picking up the boy and walking with the rest of his people to the ship they were being shepherded to. When all the other children had boarded, Nebula lifted the child into the arms of one of his own. He nodded at her as Nebula backed away, letting the gangplank close.

As the final ships left the atmosphere, disappearing through their respective jump points, Nebula walked, alone, to the Benatar. She opened her up, uncloaking the ship and sitting on the gangplank, elbows resting on her knees. Twenty minutes later, Rocket came in out of the storm and, after a short pause to look her over, took a seat on her right.

They'd been here before.

"Danvers already took off," he said, pulling his goggles off of his head, "I guess she ain't really the type for long visits."

Nebula nodded. Rocket glanced up at her, then stared forward into the swirling fire that was the sky peering out of the clouds. He waited.

Finally, Nebula spoke.

"All my life I dreamed that I would someday go home. I would hide myself away where I could, try to envision my planet, the faces of the family I did not remember. I wondered if they would look like me. When I was six years old, I stole a ship. I attempted to escape my father. That's when he told me that I had no planet. I had nowhere to go. No one waiting for me ."

Rocket watched Nebula out of the corner of his eye as she stared forward, her hands gripped tight together.

"I hope these children are returned to where they belong. I hope they find some semblance of home, away from the horrors they have endured, some refuge from the nightmares that will follow them. I hope they find what was stolen from me."

"Eh, they will," Rocket shrugged and stood, somewhat tactless, seemingly careless; by now, Nebula knew that tone meant anything but. "And all in all, I don't think you did too bad, bein' where you are an' all."

She looked up at him sharply.

"C'mon," he said. "I'm frickin' starving, let's get outta here."

Rising to her feet, she watched Rocket climb the gangplank, his red scarf whipping around in the high winds. He turned back to look at her, brows raised expectantly, waiting.

Nebula gazed up at him, up at their ship. At her life. Even as tears pricked her eyes, she smiled

Chapter Text

"Baaaah daaah dudu dudu
Bab dah dah bah dah, nlnlnlnlnlnlnl

Hm hm hmhmhm hmhm; I've got speed
I've got everything I need
Deh dehdeh deh deh deh, baby; I can fly
Hm hm supersonic guy, dodododododo

Deh leh leh lehleh
Leh deh deh deh
Deh neh nehneh nehnehneh, I'd just get up again
I'm the urban spaceman, baby; I'm makin' out, mmm.. mmm mmm mmm.

Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum ahhahaha, this song is hilarious.

Meh nehnehnehnehnehneh
Beh nehnehnehnehnehneh
My natural neh dehdeh beh, Alright, hey, let's get your face figured out."

Nebula stopped dead in her tracks as she exited the cockpit, zeroing in on Rocket where he sat in his corner, hands flitting erratically around a pair of boots on the floor in front of him. She'd been listening to his singing, now nearly as familiar to her as her own voice, as they'd sailed through the eleven jump points it had taken to get from Millas to Burdair.

"What?" The Luphomoid asked gruffly, a suspicious glare narrowing her eyes as she watched Rocket swivel a miniscule piece of machinery into the boot's heel with his clever, clawed fingers before standing, wiping his hands off on his pants. "My face is fine."

"Okay, yeah Nebs," Rocket said, smiling up at her, arms crossed as he raised his eyebrows knowingly.

Nebula blinked, breaking eye contact with him. It had been four weeks since Morag. Once they'd taken off from the planet, Rocket had returned to her the pieces of her face and arm that had broken from her in the caverns, taking a moment to chide her;

"Glad you got that outta your system," he'd said flatly, "Whata we say we proceed a little more carefully?"

Nebula, somewhat annoyed and somehow comforted by his typical flippant attitude, had nodded. However, when she attempted to reapply her parts as Rocket walked away? They didn't fit, couldn't be pushed back into place

Every morning since, she'd been taping her face back together, wrapping her arm, fully concious of the pieces held on so precariously with every move she made, every battle she entered, and definitely when Rocket looked her way.

She had hoped her companion wouldn't notice. She knew now, and perhaps always had, that that had been foolish. He wasn't an idiot. Of course he had.

Tentatively, she gently placed her hand on the plate above her left eye. Pursing her lips, she pinched the piece of tape holding it in place and peeled it off, rolling it between her fingers and discarding it. As her gaze shifted back to Rocket, she felt the plate separate from her forehead; she shot her hand up to stop it, once again staring pointedly at the floor.

It was just Rocket. Her fellow Guardian. In their four and a half years together, he had seen her in every way possible. Her lowest places. Laid bare. She had no reason to be embarrassed.

But her face... it was dripping away from her, no matter how many times she tried to fix it. She was falling apart.

She felt shy.

Rocket sighed, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips. "Okay, c'mere. Let's do this."

He turned from her, rummaging around in the ever-present and somehow organized clutter in the corner he'd laid claim to. Meanwhile, after a moment of nervous hesitation, Nebula left the common area, bent on retrieving something she'd had her eye on for some time. When Rocket turned back around, having found the materials he needed, she was seated at the table, her chair turned to him, a sheet of metal gripped in her hand.

It was gold, but brassy, more...

More yellow.

Rocket was staring up at her, one eyebrow cocked up as he looked from her hand back up to her eyes.

Nebula felt... exposed. The muscles in her face tensed up as she squinted down at him.

Rocket shrugged.

"Alright" he said, arms swinging by his sides, discarding what he'd grabbed from his collection of junk that Nebula had learned was everything but.

It didnt take long; Rocket hopped up onto the table and, with tools he rarely used, molded Nebula's chosen parts perfectly onto the the exact shape necessary to reform her face and arm. When he was done, he vaulted down from the table and turned to look up at her.

He tilted his head back and examined his work, then made only a single sound.

"Huh."

Nebula glared at him a moment, then stood, striding with more confidence than she felt to the bathroom. Just as she reached the threshold, however, she stuttered to a halt. She looked back down the hallway to see Rocket, looking at her expectantly. After a moment, his neck jutted forward, eyebrows raised.

"What, what're we doin'?" He said, palms raised, his confusion clear and genuine.

Nebula's spine straighted, slightly offended, and she entered the bathroom, only raising her eyes when she was directly in front of the mirror, heart pounding

As she looked into someone else's black eyes, a cold shudder ran through her frame.

It had never been her practice, seeking out her reflection. It had never been her's to look at anyway; the pieces of her original self, individual and unique, had long ago been stripped away to make room for all that would replace the organic matter that her father had deemed...

Weak. Unacceptable. A liability. Never once good enough, despite all of her desperate attempts to please him and prove him otherwise.

All it would have revealed to her was what Thanos had made her into something that, if her life had not been upheaved and all she should have known destoryed, she never would have become.

But slowly, over the past four and a half years, pieces of the weapon Thanos had punished into submission had begun to disappear. Pain, taken away. Foreign, unwelcome entities removed from her insides.

And now, a splash of yellow. A splash that, with a choice she had made of her own will, had transformed her face, her arm, her body into something that no one but she had ever intended it to be.

She had left a part of her fabricated form on Morag, and now... she was something new. Something one step further away from the monster, the weapon, she was raised to be.

Something Rocket had helped her become. Not because it was forced, not because it was something she accepted because she had to; she'd accepted it because she had wanted to.

Her choice. Her choice to not be a weapon. Her choice to be a Guardian of the Galaxy.

Heat built behind her eyes as she stared and stared, gripping the counter she was now leaning over as she'd unbiddenly brought herself closer and closer to her reflection, and... just a little, she smiled. Her heart settled, any nerves she'd felt melting away.

Movement in the right bottom corner of the mirror caught her eye.

Leaning on the door frame, Rocket was smirking at her, making eye contact with her reflection.

"What?" She asked, her rough voice slightly airy as she turned around to truly face him, a little irritated at his clearly smug attitude.

"What?" Rocket's voice had pitched up as he held up his hands, eyebrows raised innocently, "I didn't say anything."

Nebula looked down at suspiciously for him a moment, then pushed herself away from the mirror

"Thank you," she said, then strolled past him, head high, expression nonchalant as she felt his eyes follow her.

"I told ya' you'd look nice in yellow."

There it was.

Nebula rolled her eyes as she continued to walk away. "Yeah, Rocket. That was kind of the point."

Chapter Text

"Whoz it this time?" Rocket asked, standing in his chair and pulling from across the once again dirty table Nebula's long-abandoned meal.

They'd just left behind the planet Kabyr after ten days, traveling to city after city averting one crisis after another. They had come back irritable and mentally exhausted.

Nebula set her drink down on the counter she was leaning on. Wiping the blue liquid from her lips with a quick swipe of the back of her wrist, she went to stand in front of the screen.

Well. That's unexpected.

"Taneleer Tivan."

"What?" Rocket looked up from his food, eyes wide as he vaulted down off of the chair to stand behind Nebula, "The Collector guy? Dude on Knowhere with all them glass boxes with people and animals and crap in 'em? What does he wanna contact us for?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Nebula said dryly, continuing to stare forward at the screen.

"Okay, whatever, just open the stupid thing already, get him outta our hair," Rocket said.

Nebula tapped the small icon with their callers name beside it. Taneleer Tivan, in all of his ridiculous garb and glory, appeared big as life in front of her.

"Ah," he said with his strange, lilting voice, his eyes alighting on the Luphomoid in front of him, "Nebula, what an unexpected and pleasant surprise. I see you have joined the Guardians of the Galaxy?"

"Yeah," Nebula said, not bothering to disguise her staunch lack of interest, "Been a while now."

"And what Guardians remain?" He asked, eyes peering behind her from underneath his thick white eybrows. His gaze found Rocket. "I see. Only the pet."

"Yeah, and you're lucky this pet ain't in the same damn quadrant as you, pal," Rocket said, baring his teeth as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

The Collector ignored him.

And Nebula didn't appreciate it.

"Let's make this quick, Tivan," Nebula said, lips tight, irritation stoked.

"As you wish. I am inviting you to meet with me on Knowhere. There is an important matter of business I'd like to put before you. I cannot say more on this channel, so you will be told the details of this affair upon your arrival."

"What's in it for us?" Rocket asked, glaring, arms crossed.

"As I said, I can't be more specific here, but I assure you, it will be well worth your confidence."

Nebula considered the figure in front of her.

Whatever.

"We'll be there in three hours, it'll take that long to get through the jump points."

"What?!" Rocket's head snapped to her, eyes wide.

"I eagerly await you." Tivan bowed with a grin, then disappeared.

"What was that?!" Rocket threw up his hands. "Why would you even consider meetin' with that piece of shit?!"

"Calm down." Nebula said dryly, "He's a piece of shit, but an honest one. Let's just see."

Rocket groaned, "Fine." He said, tracking Nebula as she headed for the cockpit, "but this had better be good."

"If it isn't, I guess we can just kill him," Nebula replied, trying to keep the humor out of her low voice.

Rocket caught it anyway. He snickered through his teeth as Nebula strode passed him into the cockpit.

********

"What the hell happened, this place is a total dump!" Rocket said as they sailed through the great, vacant eye socket that served as an entryway into the spaceport.

Nebula and Rocket touched the Benatar down on a landing pad near where Rocket knew the collection was kept. Walking down the gangplank, the Rocket took in the scene around him. The wreckage that the inside of the disembodied celestial head that was Knowhere had become was... Man oh man, it was rough. There was no sign of the many thriving and illegal businesses that had once lined the streets, no seedy tradespeople hawking ill-gotten goods to even seedier buyers. No urchins running rampant in between buildings, no mining pods above cutting into the biological matter the massive dead being, harvesting it for all it was worth.

All that was left was rubble and ash. The people who were moving through the streets appeared more like refugees, many carrying tools and materials. Seemingly they were making an attempt at cleanup, rebuilding, but there was a long way to go. Very long.

Welp. Rocket had said he'd take Nebula to a bar here. Guess that wasn't gonna happen.

"This is where Gamora came to sell the Power Stone," Nebula said, following Rocket as he lead them to their destination, "It's possible the Collector already had an Infinity Stone in his possession."

"What, you mean Thanos did this?" Rocket's gaze traveled around at the destruction, his muzzle scrunching up in disgust, "Have I mentioned that I friggin' hate that jerk-ass maniac?"

"Once or twice."

As they rounded the final corner to their destination, Taneleer Tivan was walking through the threshold that lead to his precious hoard to greet them.

"Welcome, Guardians." He said, arms wide as he languidly approached. Rocket and Nebula planted themselves ten feet from him. The Collector's eyes fell on Nebula, shining. "Nebula. A delight to make your full aquaintance."

There was a certain lecherous gleam in his eyes that neither Nebula nor Rocket liked very much.

"Yeah, alright, blah-dee-dah, we're here." Rocket said, mind on the gun magnetized to his back, "Can we get to it?"

Tivan's gaze averted to him, indifferent, "Of course. Now, if my esteemed guests will follow me."

He lead them through the dark passage to where Rocket knew he kept his collection. When they arrived in the chamber, however? It was the same in here as it was oustide; the remnants of the massive glass cages jutting out of the floor, scorch marks and devastation everywhere. From the look of it, not a single rare object remained in the once menacing hall.

Friggin' good.

"What happened to all your stuff, man?" Rocket said.

The Collector gazed around at them, mysteriously.

Yeesh, this guy.

Finally, he said, "Join me and I will show you."

Gathering his guests around the barely-intact console, Rocket climbing onto a nearby box, at which the former Guardians had first learned of the Infinity Stones, Tivan pulled a small metallic leaver; materializing around them, a dome of floating circular projections each depicted the collection room not quite as Rocket remembered it from eight years and five months ago, but certainly better than how they'd left it. In each of the projections was shown a different vantage point of the room they stood in. Rocket only observed the captive specimens of the collection for a brief moment, however, before all the images were taken over by blinding light.

"I had begun to re-establish my collection I was safe-keeping," Tivan began in his slow, measured tone, "but when the Titan Thanos began cultivating for his gauntlet the Infinity Stones, I knew that one day he would doubtless find his way here to me. When I learned of his coming, I was fortunate enough to escape his path of destruction. But I could not take my collection with me."

In all of the yellow-lined projections, fire was raining down. With a strange, helpless feeling in his chest, Rocket watched as glass cages exploded, people and animals incinerated, as the air around them swirled into a blazing inferno. Obliterated, nowhere to go, and no one to save them.

Rocket's eyes shifted to the Collector, a rage building in his stomach, working its way up to the tips of his fingers as they twitched for his gun.

Nebula foot connected with the box giving him height.

... Fine

Gritting his sharp teeth, Rocket balled his fists at his sides.

Finally, the barrage of devastation ceased and, mere seconds later, out if a votex of swirling black and blue, stepped Thanos.

Rocket winced, a nasty sting pricking the scared-over wound in his chest. He'd forgiven himself, years ago... or so he'd thought. Now, seeing the Titan? Three words came to mind;

I'm sorry, guys.

As the Collector spoke, Thanos walked amongst the destruction he had wrought, and before long to his gauntlet he added the small purple stone.

"When I returned here, the Power Stone was, of course, taken, and all of the precious artifacts I had brought here and kept safe were gone, scattered across the galaxy."

Artifacts? Okay, that's frickin' plenty.

"Yeah yeah, a truly tragic loss to the universe. Can we get to the damn point?"

"Why did you ask us to come here, Tivan?" Nebula asked.

Tivan once agan flipped the lever; the projections disappeared.

"As you can see, despite my attempts to restore it, Knowhere is no longer a suitable location for me to resume gathering the rarities of the universe that must be preserved. My proposition to you is this; purchase Knowhere from me, as it is, and do with it as you please."

... What?

Rocket looked up at Nebula as she turned to him, the expression on her face mirroring exactly how he felt. She shot her black, squinted eyes back to the Collector, tilting her head expectantly to the side.

"Why us?" She ask.

"Do not feel so flattered," he said, strolling around the table, overlooking the blacked remains of his sanctuary, "the Guardians of the Galaxy are one of many prospective buyers I have brought here."

"And what are we supposed to do with a giant celestial head?"

"That, my dear, would be entirely up to you."

"Kay. How much?"

"Oh, a meager 2,000,000,000,000 units. Nothing too out-of-reach for the safe-guards of our galaxy."

Rocket wasn't even surprised. This guy liked big numbers. He and Nebula looked at one another. She nodded.

"Okay," Rocket said, addressing the Collector, stepping down from his box, "We'll for sure be in touch. C'mon, Nebula."

"I eagerly await word from you, my friends."

Taneleer Tivan bowed to Nebula and, without another word or glance at the Collector, Nebula and Rocket left him and the nothing his pride and joy had become.

"So watcha thinkin'?" Rocket asked Nebula once they were outside.

"I'm thinking that buying an entire head that houses a near-completely destroyed city populated by criminals is a stupid idea."

"Glad we're on the same page," Rocket said dryly as they made their way back to the Benatar.

"Have you returned to make deal?"

Rocket and Nebula stopped, turning to find to the womanly voice that had spoken. A ceature appoached them on four paws.

It, or she rather, was clearly an animal, with brown fur covering her face and tail. She was wearing a suit that looked as though it would withstand certain levels of space travel.

"Returned?" Rocket asked, crossing his arms and squinting at the creature as she sat back on her hind legs.

Quickly, he took her in. As she spoke, her mouth didn't move, but a green line of lights pulsed with each word as it emanated from a crackling speaker. Seeing as the sound wasn't coming from her physically? It was Rocket's assumption that it was fully neurological; whatever machinery was causing the connection was implanted directly into her brain.

... Man.

"Да, we have met before, when I was prisoner in horrible collection."

... Oh yeah.

"Who are you?" Nebula asked.

"Cosmo. Is name given me by bad Soviet scientists who send me and other dogs into space. You are Guardians of Galaxy."

"Yeah. Nebula."

Rocket put up one of the clawed fingers resting on his crossed arms, "Rocket."

"Has Collector made offer to you?"

"Just now." Nebula said.

"Хороший, I prefer Guardians of Galaxy over theплохие преступники that have come before you."

"Ain't been the most savory characters droppin' by?" Rocket asked.

"Нет. Knowhere has been bad place, but a lot of the mean people have left because of no money. I do not want new mean people."

"Yeah, okay." Rocket said, picking up his feet, starting back towards the Benatar. Nebula followed, "We'll see what we can do."

"So you will return?" Cosmo asked, panting as she padded beside them.

"We didn't say that." Nebula said gruffly.

"Yes you did say that." The dog jumped excitedly, a small bark coming out of her. "You have promised will come back! I can't wait."

"Yeah, okay, you got it Cosmo," Rocket said, avoiding the dog as she more or less frolicked around them. Finally, they made it to the Benatar.

"I will see you soon, comrades!"

With a bark, Cosmo untangled herself from around them and ran back into the city

Nebula brought down the gangplank and boarded the Benatar. Rocket stood on the bottom step, taking a hard look back at what had been offered to him and his companion.

Weird thought, having stakes in somewhere that was always in the same place.

"Can we go already?"

Rocket furrowed his brow, staring a moment longer.

"Yeah." He said, joining his companion.

Chapter Text

Rocket took a sip of his drink. He and Nebula were once again gazing together out of the window of the Benatar. She sat, drink in hand, in the right seat midway down the cockpit, he in the seat across the aisle. He'd been counting down in his head since he checked the multi-calender ten minutes ago before he joined Nebula.

Three... two... one. A familiar grip tighted around Rocket's heart as Nebula shifted just a little beside him; she must've been counting too.

June 20th, 2023. Five years. Damn.

The two Guardians of the Galaxy sat together in silence.

See the lonely boy, out on the weekend
Trying to make it pay
Can't relate to joy, he tries to speak and
Can't begin to say

"I wonder how much he'd a' grown by now." Rocket said, frowning tightly as his brows knitted together. Nebula didn't have to ask who he was talking about, "Whether he'd still be a moody dickhead with an annoying-ass obession with video games."

"Half of his family were idiots." Nebula rasped, "It wasn't a great jumping off point."

"Eh," Rocket shrugged, taking another sip, slumping more in the chair, "Gamora was makin' a pretty good mom, and Quill did alright. The other guys... yeah."

"Gamora... a mom." She said, almost softly, taking a sip. Rocket nodded. After a moment she said, "What about you?" .

Now Rocket leaned away from her to look at her, wide-eyed, "What, are you kiddin'? I'm lucky I didn't ruin 'im."

Nebula tilted her head back, sighing at him with her eyes half-masted. A comfortable quiet fell.

"Sometimes I get ta' thinkin'," Rocket said, the claw on his thumb scratching at his glass, "about what would be goin' on if that jerk hadn't gotten his hands on all them stones. Where we'd be."

Nebula was quiet for a moment.

"After Ego was destroyed, my sister asked me to join the Guardians." She said, her deep voice quiet as the universe danced in her black eyes. Rocket looked at her; he hadn't known. "If I had killed Thanos, I would have ."

Not for the first time, Rocket wished the giant purple asshole wasn't dead, just so he could kill 'im; Nebula coulda been with the Gurardians for years.

Feeling her eyes on him, Rocket came out of his thoughts and turned to his companion. She was looking at him, waiting.

"I ain't got nobody else out there." He said, his copper-brown eyes returning to look out at the swirling, ever-onward galaxy. "Got nowhere else ta' be but right where I am."

After a moment, Nebula nodded, in turn looking out at the vast expanse of stars.

"Looks like we'd a' both ended up here, one way or another. Ya know, it's sorta weird," he went on, a touch more slowly, a small, nervous lump of guilt that he'd been trying to squelch for some time forming in his stomach. "For a long time, I been kinda acclimatated to how things are. Feels normal. I mean yeah, don't get me wrong, I miss the guys, but the quiet... it doesn't really bother me anymore." He looked over at his fellow Guardian, "That's weird, right?"

"It's not weird." Nebula said, looking at him, "A lot has changed, but eventually... For a long time, this has felt normal."

"Right." he muttered. "You think that's a good thing?"

"I don't know."

"Me either." He paused, looking down at his drink, "So, where we at now, Nebs?"

She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

"You, ah, still wanna keep goin'?" He asked with a small smile.

For a moment, Nebula simply stared placidly. Then, she nodded, "Yes."

"Cool," his smiled broadened.

The two of them, flying together. Nebula and Rocket, the Gurardians of the Galaxy... he wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter Text

"A time heist? What the heck is that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." Steve answered Rocket, jaw set.

As the overall plan was explained, going into the past and stealing the stones, Natasha observed the projections of Rhodie and the Guardians of the Galaxy. Rhodie looked cool and ready to go. Nebula looked naturally intimidating and Rocket was standing, per the norm, on a box beside her as they stared out at their Earthly comrades through the projector the not-raccoon had set up. He'd been right; the device had been invaluable in keeping updated and aware of the galaxy that surrounded the planet they were spinning on. Nebula and Rocket had been checking in semi-regularly, relaying the status of the immediate intergalactic area, informing them of imposing threats or clear skies.

Well, them was a bit much. These days, it was mostly just her. At the moment, however, she felt more at peace than she had in years; Bruce stood beside her chair, looking confident, very large, and green as he chewed on one of the three burgers he'd brought with him. Steve was across from her closest to the projector, leaning back on the table with his arms crossed, facing forward as he addressed the Guardians. Scott Lang, practically a stranger, was tucked away in a corner, wonderment clear in his expression. And Tony; he'd shown up, despite all he could lose, and damn was she glad.

And Clint, leaning against the wall behind her. With his stupid haircut and full arm tattoo sleeve, finally, he was home.

For the moment, she was once again surrounded by her family, a rare to almost never occurrence in this new world she hated so much. As she sat back, feet up on the table, she hoped that would very soon change.

"Right. And whose stupid frickin' idea was this?" Rocket crossed his arms, sceptisism clear in the quirk of his brow.

"Hi, yeah, me!"

"Okay. Cool." Rhodie said, eyebrows shooting up as he rocked on his heels, arms crossed.

"Who is that?" Nebula asked, black eyes scanning what she could see of the room.

"Scott. Lang. Scott Lang," he was leaning forward in his chair, voice just a little too loud, an excited but nervous smile brightening his eyes. "You probably can't see me," Nebula and Rocket looked at each other as Scott raised a hand, "Yeah, you can't, I'm over here. There werent any seats up front." He lowered his hand, "I can't really see you either, but that's fine! Super cool talking to aliens!" He gave the situation a thumbs up.

Rocket's eyebrows shot up while Nebula adopted the slightest of glares. Rhodie's expression she knew well; you kidding me? Nat couldn't blame them for their misgivings.

"And how, exactly, did a genius such as yourself come up with this fancy little plan?"

Scott stuttered his way through his answer to Rocket's question, telling his story. Nat watched as what sounded mostly like gibberish to her passed between them. Nebula and Rocket seemed to very much understand. Still, they and Rhodes looked sceptical.

"Alright, so you got out," Rocket conceded, "but we can't just get all small and go shootin' through time and space like a bunch a' morons."

"Not without a guidance system," Nebula added.

"We'd be screwed." Rhodie agreed.

"Got it covered." Tony said, swiveling in his chair and holding up his wrist, displaying the device he'd invented to the Guardians and his friend, "Brought enough for everyone who's involved to play around with. They'll take us where we need to go and, once we get the stones, spit us back out right where we started. If we get it right, it should only take a minute in our timeline."

Rocket looked up at Nebula, then back out at the reformed Avengers, "Shit."

"That's what I said." Tony responded.

"Is anyone else joining us?" Nebula asked in her strange, hard voice.

"Thor's the last guy we gotta get." Bruce said, "I'm headed to New Asgard later today to talk to him. It might take a little convincing."

Rocket nodded.

"The predominant impression here," Tony said, leaning forward in his chair, "is that this little trip of ours is imbecilic, incredibly hazardous, and excruciatingly close to impossible."

"And heavily reliant on luck." Nat added.

"A lot of luck," Scott tacked on.

"And us being extremely well-prepared," Bruce said.

"So well-prepared." Scott's eyes were wide.

"And it's worth it." Steve said.

Nat smiled, just a little; the old determination was clear in his voice. She watched as he and Tony locked eyes momentarily. After a moment, Tony rocked a little in his chair, looked down, and nodded with a tight-lipped smile.

Okay. That's good, this is good.

"It'll be dangerous," Steve said to the projections, "Some of us might not make it back home. It's up to you whether or not you get involved. Now's the time to walk away."

Nat glanced at him; not his best pep talk. It wasn't a good feeling, listening to the once-eternal optimist speak in any way of failure, but it was appropriate. They'd never attempted something even close to this before.

"Alright," Rhodie said with a nod, no hesitation. Beside him, Rocket and Nebula shared a look. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them and, finally, Rocket turned his gaze to Tony Stark.

"What're the chances we come out the other side a' this one?" Rocket asked, voice low.

"With the information at hand?" Tony said, putting his hands behind his head, "probably about twelve percent."

Rocket smirked, "We're in."

********

Back on the Benatar, the conversation was closed, Earth's Mightiest Heroes disappearing from in front of the Guardians of the Galaxy. It had been decided that, after Bruce and Rocket went and retrieved Thor, the party was going to start; they had a time machine to build, a plan to formulate, stones to collect, and a gauntlet to make. The path was laid out in front of them.

It was narrow. Like Steve Rogers had said, dangerous. And worth it.

Silence pressed in on Rocket and Nebula. After a few moments, he broke the tension.

"Holy shit." He breathed out.

"Yeah," Nebula said. She looked down at her companion.

"Five years," he said after a moment, gazing still at where the Avengers had been on the screen, brow furrowed, lips in a tight line. "... damn."

Nebula nodded. She knew exactly what he was thinking; all the things they had done wrong, everything that had taken them to the day their lives had changed forever, it could all be undone.

Not a minute later they were sailing through the jump points that would take them to Earth. They'd lost enough of time already.

Chapter Text

"So how's the goblin?" Rocket asked, dropping down from underneath the massive machine they were stitching together.

Tony smirked at the small mammilian creature to his right. At the moment they were hooking up the mammoth power converter, Tony holding it in place as Rocket secured it to the base of the time machine...

... Time machine. Man. He hadn't expected to ever cross this particular scifi line.

Almost four years since their last meeting, it was apparent that Rocket hadn't changed much. The Guardian was still kind of a dick, music ever-present (Street Fighting Men was pounding over the speakers; looks like Rocket was on a Rolling Stones kick), and good at what he was doing.

Vigorously committed, too.

Since he and Nebula had arrived, Rocket hadn't hardly left the hanger they'd converted into a shop. The goggles Tony had given him four years ago were situated on his head as he fiddled away with the complicated mechanisms of the unprecedented and, honestly, gorgeous machine they'd built, gloved hands flitting around with a speed that, had Tony not seen him in action before, would have produce a sense of caution in the Avenger. Rocket looked sloppy and careless. He was anything but.

It had once again been interesting, observing the alien. He'd known Rocket was mechanically minded, the guy had made that clear, but after only a brief conversation with him about the science of time travel, Rocket was good to go. It hadn't taken him but a few minutes to work with Bruce and him to contribute hugely to the functional design of the gateway that would wisk them off to each of their respective destinations. He and Tony had taken over constructing it, getting the majoirty of it done in only a few days. Rocket had become increasingly demanding as he'd settled into a rapport with Tony as they worked. Definitely a new dynamic for the Terran. At this point they were just working out the kinks and warming up the engine.

"Morgan. Is." he said, answering Rocket's question, "A fully fledged monster that I'm ninty-nine percent certain will enslave the human race." With a twist of the wrench in his hand, the inner-workings of the giant cable were stabilized

"Takes after her mom then."

Exhaling through his nose, Tony grinned as he pushed the panel back in place.

"Pepper says hi, by the way. Well, not actually hi, seeing as I haven't told her you're not... in space, but if she did know, she'd be... delighted."

Probably not; it had taken her ages to get her blueberries going again.

"How about you guys?" Tony stood, taking ahold of a rag on one of the many workbenches littered around the vast room, scrubbing at his dirtied hands, "Still, uh, rolling around in the Jopli-"

"Benatar," Rocket said harshly, "and yeah. Been flying like a dream since we got all that crappy Earth tech out."

"Four years, you're still holding on to that? You are refreshingly ill-mannered."

"Whatever," Rocket said, never taking his eyes off his work, "just hand me that thing offa the floor."

Tony looked around to where he'd pointed, retrieving a valve that needed screwing on. He handed it to the Guardian.

"If this works out, you're gonna have a lot of people comin' back." he continued, meandering over to stand in front of the Zune that was perched on the table, "There going to be enough room on that rig for your... motley crew of winsome square-pegs-in-round-holes, do you have Mötley Crüe on here?"

"Yep."

"May I?"

"Just treat it carefully."

Rocket stood, crossing the room to the next nearest workbench and vaulting on top of it. Removing his goggles and setting them down, he reached elbow-deep into one of the many toolbags they'd brought in.

Tony clicked through the Zune, "Any requests?"

"Yeah, do "Starry Eyes"."

"Fan-," Tony selected the song, sending it out through the speakers, "-tastic. So, got space enough for your gaggle of Guardians?"

"Gamora ain't comin' back," Rocket said, keeping his eyes down, "and Nebula, she weren't with us before then. If everything turns out okay, we're still gonna end up six altogether."

Tony had forgotten Rocket'd lost one of his permanently. Man oh man.

"Aaand, how are things going with your... primary-colored co-pilot?"

"Been good." Rocket answered.

"That so?"

"She's still hangin' around, ain't she?"

"Looks like it. Things still quiet?"

"Anyone ever tell you you're nosy, Stark?".

"Not at all." Tony answered, leaning on his elbow on the bench, eyes darting around nonchalantly as he picked up a pen to play with, "I'm famously aloof. Notoriously self-centered." His eyes returned to the Guardian, "Anyone ever tell you that you're evasive?"

"How about you shut up and mind your own business?" Rocket was full-on facing him now, eye level from his position on the table. His voice had gone somewhat rough.

"That's character development," Tony said, jabbing the air at him with the pen. He pushed himself off of the table, taking a few aimless, wandering steps. "Chill out, Crash Bandicoot. You two gotten close then, huh?"

Rocket pointedly turned away from him, scowling.

"Five years ago, it didn't look like you two really knew each other super well. She didn't get to Titan with Quill and the crew. Blasted outbof the sky solo. She wasn't on the, ah, team, was she?"

Rocket didn't respond.

"You think, when we wrap all this up, she'll stick around?"

Rocket stilled, then turned to him. Okay, by the look on his face? Rocket didn't know the answer to that one. Tony waited, tapping his hand with the pen.

"She's still quiet." Rocket relented.

Tony nodded exaggeratedly, "She is. And they very much are not."

"Right."

"Okay. And you stuck with them for, pfft, how long?"

"I don't know, man, about four years before Thanos? What's your point?"

"That's a long time," Tony jabbed at the air again, "The Avengers made it about that long."

"And what happened to you guys?" Rocket asked, head tilted slightly.

"Things were said. Stuff... happened, listen, my point is that you don't stick around with people that long unless they're," he shrugged, "bottom-line decent."

After a pause, Rocket nodded.

"She'll stick around," the Avenger said. Rocket looked sceptical. Tony held his hands up by his shoulders, wiggling the pen between two of his fingers, "I'm tellin' ya, man -"

"You boys ready for a test run?" Nat called across the room.

Both Rocket and Tony turned to her voice. All the others were with her, Barton donning the get-up they'd put together to facilitate their foray into the quantum realm.

Rocket cleared his throat, "Waitin' on you, let's get this damn show on the road."

Tony spun away from Rocket towards the console, "- it'll be fine."

The Guardian didn't look so sure.

*******

"Why are we splittin' up again?"

Nebula sighed, "We've been over this, Rocket."

He been trying not to say anything, bring it up again, but those friggin' Avengers. After they'd established where best to retrieve the stones, they'd very quickly divided everyone off into teams. Now, today was the day. They were actually going to do the damn thing. Stark had given them all their very own "time travel GPS"s equipped with fancy matching suits and helmets. It was time to go, but for the three days since the groups had been decided, Rocket had felt... nervous.

Damn nervous. They'd been split up, and he'd been trying to keep it under wraps, but he hadn't been feeling too good. He kept drifting off, thinking very... unhelpful things. Things like what if? What if the gear malfunctions? When if one of them gets hurt and can't make it back? What if one of them gets killed? What if, if everything does go as planned, some catastrophe ruins everything all over again?

And... what if it's all perfect? What if they get back everything they're doing this for? And what if... what then?

He'd do anything, anything at all to get his family back, but these were not quite the circumstances he'd had in mind.

"I know," he said with a grimace, eyes on her left upper-arm; she'd mentioned a stiffness, a small pain just below her shoulder, and Rocket hadn't given her a choice as to whether or not he'd fix it. He'd pulled her into the empty conference room, out of sight so he could open her up in private, jumping up onto the table so he could get access to her as she sat down in a chair. He wasn't taking any chances on this one. "Thor needs somebody with 'im in case he goes batshit and ruins the whole Time Heist thing, but why are we splittin' up?"

"Again," she said, her quiet, deep voice getting taking a small but sharp edge of irritation, "You won't blend in with the New York team, I know Morag best and need Rhodie for ground support, Romanov and Barton work best together, and as Thor has become an unreliable fool and no longer looks as he did, the Reality Stone requires stealth. You're the least likely to be seen by the guards in the palace... and you're not going to allow him to behave like a pathetic infant."

"What, and we don't work best together, c'mon, what the hecks that about?"

"Rocket."

"What, man, I'm just sayin'!" Rocket twisted the out-of-place wire into its proper spot with his gloved hands, "You'd think that if they thought our help was so friggin' crucial they'd be intelligent enough to -"

"We're lucky they asked for our aid," Nebula rasped sternly, "There's no point getting pissed off about who gets to play with who."

After a moment, Rocket nodded in agreement, but he couldn't keep from glaring. She was right, of course. Over the last five years, though he didn't like to admit it, Nebula was generally right between the two of them.

But damn...

Shit, they hadn't spent a day apart in the five years they'd been together. They knew how the other faught, every instinct and move. There was not a single person in the galaxy he trusted more than the Luphomoid in front of him. If they separated now, who knew what was going to happen? If something went sideways, he wouldn't be there.

As the horrible, heavy silence pressed in on him, Rocket's chest tightened. His body stiffened.

Nebula noticed. Crap.

"Rocket," she breathed, turning her head to face him.

Rocket couldn't bring himself to look away from her arm, mouth stretched in a tight line.

"Rocket."

Finally, wxhaling frustratedly through his nose, he gave in and looked at her. Her gaze was fixed on him, serious and sincere.

"I swear, we will undo what Thanos has done, and we'll make it back."

Rocket's red-copper eyes darted back and forth between her black ones; there was no trace of doubt, but he couldn't get his heart to loosen.

"And what if it don't go down the right way, Nebs? What if you're wrong?"

"We will see each other again."

Rocket, without looking away from her, closed up her arm and rested his hand on her shoulder, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Thank you." She said. Then, eyes shifting around the room for a moment, she put her hand on Rocket's small shoulder, then pulled him into a hug.

Rocket froze, unsure, then pushed his forehead into her shoulder, taking another deep breath. As they parted, he sniffed away the tears trying to fall and, brow furrowed, looked into her eyes. Damn, he hoped she'd be careful.

"Let's go." She said.

He nodded

Standing, she took off towards the door.

No.

Not once had Rocket ever given anyone a proper goodbye. And with Groot? The guys? His last words to them had been the wrong ones. Regrettable ones. And there was Nebula, walking away, and this time he knew what might happen, and this time he knew what was at stake.

Now or never. Rocket cleared his throat.

"Hey."

Nebula stopped and turned back to him.

"If we don't get out a' this -"

"Rocket -"

"Yeah yeah, I got it," Rocket jumped down from the table and held up his hands as if to physically stop her words, "it's all cool and we're gonna get the frickin' stones and it's all gonna be okay and we're gettin' through it, I know," he lowered his hands. Measuring his words carefully, barely able to keep going, he continued, "... but I'm sayin', if we don't -"

Someone was coming. The Guardians looked towards the door as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers came into view. They had already doned the suits designed for the heist.

"Alright, kids," Stark clapped his hands and leaning on the doorway, "T.A.R.D.I.S. is up and running."

"You two ready?" Rogers asked, jaw set.

Nebula nodded.

"Alright. Suit up."

She looked back at Rocket for a moment, then turned from him and strode out of the room, pressing the suit-up button on her time GPS as she followed Steve. Rocket stared after her, a horrible stone sinking into his stomach.

Chalk up one more failed goodbye.

Tony was still leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes cast down at his crossed ankles. As the footsteps of their companions faded, he tilted his head back and looked at Rocket, a question clear on his face.

Rocket didn't say ananythingpressing a button on his GPS, he suited up.

The left side of Stark's mouth quirked up as he pushed himself off of the doorframe. With a small nod, he took a swinging step away and followed the others.

Shit.

What if...

Chapter Text

The comm still hung loosesly in Nebula's hand as she looked into her own, hate-filled eyes. Surrounded by guards, a Nebula that still existed under the thumb of her father was marching towards the Benatar, and as the Nebula plated with crafted-just-for-her-body yellow-gold watched as she approached, two complete and separate thoughts existed in her being.

The first?

Shit.

The second?

We failed, and it's all my fault.

********

As Rocket had careened through the time vortex next to Thor, it struck him near immediately something was wrong.

The count.

Someone was missing. No no no nononono.

They'd all landed back on their feet, Rocket retracting his suit the moment he'd regained his balance, heart racing, grip tight around the extraction tube of ether in his hand. His eyes had gone madly flitting from face to face; someone was gone, someone, who. Thor, Stark, Rhodie, yes Nebs, okay, now Green, Rogers, Ant-guy -

When he got to Barton, Rocket's brain registered two things simultaneously; the look on the Terran's face, and the empty space beside him.

Awe no.

Now, stones collected and makeshift Gauntlet primed to recieve them, Rocket stood gazing out the window in the conference room in the Avengers compound, arms crossed and waiting. His human allies were all situated at the end of a dock, had been for the last twelve minutes. They'd been talking before, but now? All of their heads were bowed, no one was moving.

Scott Lang was seated at the table to Rocket's right, swiveling in his chair and twiddling his thumbs, head tilted back and to the side. Rhodie was gone, Rocket had no clue where. Nebula was lingering by the door. She hadn't said a word since they'd all gotten back. Rocket didn't blame her, he'd been sorta at a loss, too. Losing Nat seemed like a family affair, and whatever they might be to Terrans and Asgardian, the Guardians weren't no family.

"Whada you think they're talking about?"

"Whether or not Thor left enough margarita mix in the refridgerator for the afterparty, how am I supposed to friggin' know?" Rocket said, brow furrowed, upper lip curled, barely sparing him a glance.

"Ah, right. Cool. Sorry." Came Lang's nervous response.

Rocket sighed.

He hadn't expected to lose anyone else. Not really. And Nat... of all the people to get lost, so close to the finish line. Rocket hadn't know what sort of damn he gave about these stupid frickin' Terrans. Now he did. And it hurt.

That didn't mean he got to be a dick.

"What they're probably tryin' a' do," Rocket said, voice low and calm, "is figure a way that Romanov could get back to us. But that ain't a thing that'll happen."

"Nnnno." Scott said. Rocket finally turned to face him; his brows were raised, and his eyes... confused. "And why isn't that a thing?" Ever so slightly, Rocket's lip curled again, involuntarily. Lang put his hands up, "I'm just tryin' to keep up here."

"Because me n' Stark n' them set it up so, no matter what any of us idiots got into, them Pym particles'd only ever bring us all back to this spot exactly one minute after we went back to get the stones. If she were comin' outta the past, ever, she'd a' shown up on that platform with the rest of us," Rocket directed his gaze to his fellow Guardian, trying to push down the heavy knot that had been building in his chest with each word, "She and Barton went to Vormir, right Nebs?"

Nebula blinked rapidly before her black eyes found him. The expression on her face, it was like she'd never seen him before. She tilted her head at him, ever so slightly.

Man oh man.

"Vormir, right?" He repeated, more softly.

Nebula nodded.

"So," Rocket turned back to Scott, "I guess whatever got Gamora must've got Romanov... and Gamora didn't ever come back."

Nebula shifted on her feet out of the corner of his eye.

"Gaaa, ah... Gamora?" His eyes shifted back and forth between the Guardians, "Really?"

"Have you seen a green chick with a bunch a' knives around here?"

Scott looked from Nebula, then back to Rocket, the confusion clearing completely from his eyes.

"No."

"Exaclty."

After a moment, Scott Lang leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands under his chin. He nodded at Rocket, who turned to look back out on the Avengers; slowly, they were coming up the dock, back towards the compound.

"Looks like we're movin'," Rocket said.

Nodding, mouth in a thin, hard line, Scott stood from his chair and left the room, heading towards the lab. Rocket followed.

"Ya know," he said, drawing closer to Nebula; she had yet to move out of the doorway, "I ain't lookin' back, but this little excursion ended up costing a little more than I was thinkin' any of us'd have to fork over."

Nebula started at him blankly then, with a blink, rasped, "We all knew there would be risks."

Rocket squinted at her, just a little. There was something off about her, something not aligning with her being... her. Trying to shake the sensation out of himself, he brought himslef back to the moment, and with him came an echo of Natasha Romanov's words.

"Well... so much for relying heavily on luck." He said with a grimace.

Nebula nodded down at him. That's when it hit.

"Hey, whoa, your hand okay?"

It was wrapped in a cloth it certainly hadn't been in what was technically thirty minutes ago. Glancing down at it, Nebula crossed her arms, hiding her mechanized one beneath the other.

"It's fine," she said gruffly, eyes shifting away from him.

"Sure." Rocket couldn't help smirking, holding his gloved hand out to her, "C'mere, let's take a look at it, we can get it fixed before the others -"

She took a small, quick step towards him, but it wasn't very friendly. Unfriendly enough, in fact, for Rocket to take a step back, snatching his hand away.

"I don't need to be looked after like some stupid, incompetent child."

Her voice was thick, coarser than usual. Threatening. And her eyes... they didn't feel right.

"Alright man, hey." Rocket held his hands up, "What gives?"

She was silent. Stoney. In Rocket's heart stabbed... worry.

"Hey," he said, lowering his hands, stepping towards her, "What's goin' on? Did something happen on Morag?"

She didn't answer. She didn't hardly move. Whatever had gone down -

"Hey Swiper, you ready to roll?" Tony Stark had appeared behind Nebula through the doorway. He looked ill-used and worn down, but determind, "Bruce is all set with the Gauntlet, waitin' on you."

"Yeah, right behind ya." Rocket said

Tony nodded curtly, proceeding towards the lab. Rocket warily passed Nebula to follow. As he did, the fur of his tail stood up.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The air smelled wrong, felt wrong. Just unfamiliar and strange and wrong.

But there was nothing. It was just Nebula. And they'd all just been to the past, hurtling back and forth through time and space. It made sense that things would be a little off.

Whatever.

"You comin'?" He asked over his shoulder, shaking away the feelings, clearing his mind.

She answered, voice rough and almost... something. Something Rocket couldn't quite place.

"Don't wait up."

*******

Nebula watched herself disappear around the corner as the shield of her cell went back up. The Gamora of the past stared at her a moment. Nebula looked at her from where she sat against the wall, waiting, but after a moment she turned away.

They'd taken the Pym particles. They'd taken the gold plating that had covered her face. They'd taken her clothes.

Thanos had a plan, and it was clear. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She just hoped someone noticed. She hoped Rocket would be able to tell.

If she had been one second quicker... after all this time, still a disappointment./p>

Nebula didn't bother standing, or trying to escape. There was no way out of this cell. She knew these walls... Intimately. The countless prisoners she'd put in this very spot reeled through her memory, people she'd tortured and killed, not one ever escaping. She could still hear their screams, echoing endlessly in her head. She wondered if it would ever stop... Then there were the times it had been her locked away in here instead. For days, or weeks, Thanos would leave her here, hoping that, this time when she was released, she'd be hungry enough to never disappoint him again.

Just broken doll that never danced right, now matter how he turned the key.

Nebula felt all of the internal kinks smoothing out inside of her body, each crack of pain mirroring the blow inflicted by her former self.

So much rage... she remembered it, the way it had coursed through her. Such hatred, and so much of it aimed at herself. Every day she had seethed with it. Unending pain and rage.

Nine years. Nine years free from this terrible place. Nine years of doing as she chose, going where she wished... and five years. Five years of being with the person she wanted to be with.

Happy was not a word she had ever thought would apply to herself. Same with friend. And family. And home.

Foolish.

And now? All of it was gone. She was right back in her prison, the place that she had had nightmares about years after she had left it, where she had prayed never to return to.

As the fingers of her left hand tracing the exposed mechanisms of her head, she sat staring at the corner around which herself and her sister had disappeared. She prayed again. Not for rescue; she was nine years in the past, no one could know where she was, no one would ever come for her... Rocket would never come, and he'd never know what happened.

No. She prayed that the next shadow to darken the hallway outside of her cell wouldn't belong to her father.

*******

"See you on the other side, man!"

Rocket didn't answer Rhodie. He couldn't. He was too busy trying to keep his head above water.

It had all been going so well. The glove had worked, Banner had snapped, there was a big old fancy flash or light.

They'd finally done it, and then it all went to hell. He didn't even know why.

Dammit.

The goggles on his head were knocking into the ceiling as his slick gloved hands struggled to keep purchase on the metal bars he clung to.

His fingers slipped.

Water filled Rocket's mouth as his head ducked under water. He heaved himself back up, spluttering, blinking through the darkness and the droplets in his eyes, panicked as he took everything in.

He couldn't see Rhodie.

"Rhodes! Rhodie!"

He'd been right there, just a second ago. Right next to him. Rocket's heart was hammering in his head.

Fear fear fear. He could hardly think.

Water splashed into his mouth.

"Ah!" Rocket hacked out the water. "RHODIE! C'MON, MAN!"

He sounded wild and desperate in his own ears. Water lapped into his mouth again. He spat it out. And again. Then, when the water splashed up over his head once more, it didn't go back down.

No.

He hadn't taken a breath. It was only seconds before his lungs were burning, begging him for air as he sank down into the depths. Horrible, great tremors wracked through his chest until, finally, his body forced him to inhale. Water rushed past his sharp, snapping teeth and down his windpipe. His lungs tried to reject it, but it had nowhere to send it to, nothing to replace it with.

Rocket's mind was a flurry as his body floundered. Panic, fear, fear, pain pain pain, panic, pain... pain... fear... fear... fear.......

Groot... Nebula... Quill... Drax... Groot... Mantis... Nebula..... Groot...... Quill...... Nebula..... Groot..... Nebula..................

.......................

............

.................

"C'mon, Rocket!"

Air.

*******

Where is he?

Nebula screamed as she flew through the air, guns blazing as she rolled to her feet.

Where is he?

Once she, Gamora, and Clint had escaped the bowels of the decimated compound, they'd been thrown head-first into the fray; they'd done it. Everyone who had disappeared was back, and now they were all here, fighting her father and his army to keep ahold of the world they'd stolen back from him. In the chaos, She'd been separated from Barton near immediately, and with him the gauntlet, but Gamora? She wasn't letting her out of her sight. No, this wasn't her Gamora, but she didn't care; Thanos had already taken her sister away once, Nebula wasn't going to allow it to happen again.

She fired her blaster with a roar, ripping a hole through the torso of another beast as it charged Gamora from behind. For the dozenth time, Nebula's black eyes furiously scanned the horizon.

Dammit, where is he?

They'd come upon Star-Lord quickly. It had been... uncomfortable. Mantis had come next, then Drax, both battling viciously alongside their innumerable allies. They were all just how she remembered them. The relief she'd felt at the sight of them, the people she and Rocket had stayed up late on the Benatar talking about and missing more times than she could quantify, was brief; there wasn't any time for emotional reunions. They hadn't won yet.

And Nebula hadn't spotted Groot.

And she hadn't found Rocket.

Her former self had stolen her communicator, and when she'd died it hadn't survived the blast. She had no ears, was all on her own. Everywhere she looked there was eventually a familiar face, but never the one she was looking

Firing at yet another hideous creature, a man who looked like a giant black cat passing her left to take down an enemy, Nebula screamed, trying to push the panic out of her head. After all this. After doing everything that could be done to bring back what they had lost, Nebula didn't know if she had now lost the only thing she'd had.

If she had know...

Dammit, Rocket.

"I am Groot!"

Nebula fired her blaster, taking down the creature about the come down on her. Then she snapped her head to the voice. There was Groot, undeniably; he had grown, was no longer the tiny chunk of wood she remembered, but it was him. He was thirty feet away from her, one of his branch-like hands embedded deep in the earth, roots shooting out of the ground and up through the bodies of whoever was unfortunate to be close and an enemy. A chorus of screams pierced the air.

"Whatever, man!"

Nebula's heart hammered at the voice. Her eyes darted wildly around, sifting through the useless shapes and faces. She looked just past Groot, peering -

Yes.

********

He'd seen Quill.

Man... he'd seen him.

In the charge. As Rocket had clung to Rhodie's back, there he was, boots blasting him into the collide. Peter Quill, alive, right beside him.

Holy shit. It'd worked. The Gurardians of the Galaxy, the Avengers, everyone. They were back.

Now where the others? Where was Groot?

Where the hell was she?

He'd hopped off of Rhodie a while ago; he hadn't been able to spot anyone else from above, the frenetic energy of the fight below him turning everything into a haze lit very poory by the smoky air and setting sun.

On the ground? It weren't much better. He'd been running around for ten minutes and nothing.

Rocket hit the dirt with a grunt, rolling to his feet and firing at the first unfriendly face he saw (in this case, some big ugly guy with tusks).

Man, where are they? Where is she?

Baring his teeth, he rolled around the corner of a downed ship, throwing himself out into the open to -

"Hi, Rocket!"

He twisted to his left, gun raised.

Mantis.

She was just the same as he remembered. Her hair, clothes, every expression on her face. She was jumping off of the back of a giant creature, smiling. As she approached him, a creature came hurdling at her from her left. She sidestepped it. It hit the ground in front of her, and as it turn to face her, teeth bared, she rammed her palm into its nose.

"Sleeeeep." She hissed, antenna glowing eerily through the smog.

The beast collapsed. She reached down and, with a sickening jerk of her arms, broke its neck.

Damn. Brutal.

"Is Groot still with you?" She stopped only a few feet away from Rocket, her black eyes wide with curiosity, shoulders back, hands limp at her sides as though there weren't a massive battle happening around them. "I haven't seen him aaanywhere."

The way she was talking. The way she was looking at him. Like she'd just seen him yesterday. Like she'd never been gone.

But she had been gone. And now she wasn't.

Rocket swallowed hard and looked around, took down an alien creep fast approaching his right, and looked up at the Guardian.

And then there were four.

"I ain't seen him yet!" Rocket called over the din of battle, shooting whatever the thing was that was coming up behind her.

"And what of the pirate angel?"

Rocket spun around. With a sharp tug, Drax the Destroyer pulled his knife out of the leg of yet another dead Thanos-loving alien.

Five.

Rocket felt dizzy. He looked exactly the same; big, bald, and stupid. Blood was splattered across his face and chest, and the grin he was sporting was all too familiar; sadism and joy, all rolled up into one.

Damn. He'd missed it.

"Thor?" Rocket called as Drax almost nonchalantly slashed open the belly of yet another howling creature. Someone, looked like Bucky, shot it in the head as he ran across the top of the downed ship, quickly disappearing back into the madness, "I don't know, I'm not his frickin' baby sitter! He's around here somewhere!"

Mantis, with a shriek, was engaging in another takedown behind Rocket. By the tremor of it hitting the ground, whatever it was had been big.

"Hah! Excellent!" Drax raised both his knives with a grin, "Such a specimen will be wondrous to behold in combat!"

"Ooo, yes," Mantis said, appearing on Rocket's right, just as excited as Drax, as she licked blood off the side of her lips. Rocket winced; disgusting. "Maybe if we are very fortunate we will see him."

Rocket smirked, blasting a slobbering beast out of the air as the dude with metal wings from Wakanda passed over, spraying it with bullets. Rocket hadn't ever gotten his name.

"Yeah, you two have fun with that!" He said, somewhat distractedly as he scanned the immediate area.

Where was Groot?

Dammit, where is she?

"Yes, it will be most enjoyable!" Drax laughed, "Come, let us slay more of these meager and hideous beasts!"

And before Rocket knew it, they'd disappeared back into the raging battle that surrounded him.

But they hadn't disappeared.

As Rocket jumped back into action, dodging in between the hulking creatures, stopping behind some chick with glowing red fingers to cover her six, his mind was reeling.

They were here.

Rocket rolled out of the way of a gigantic falling corpse, blasting his way past the monsters on the other side of it.

His family. They were whole and alive and here.

Holy shit.

But Nebula. Where the hell was she?! They'd come all this way. They'd finally gotten back everything they'd lost. If here, right at the last second, he lost the one thing -

"I am Groot!"

Arms going slack at his sides, Rocket slid to a halt, nearly doubling over. It was as though someone had shot him in the chest. He clenched his teeth as a harsh burning swelled behind his eyes.

It had been five years since that voice had called him dad.

Rocket straightened with a lurch. Heart pounding hard, he craned his neck, stretched every piece kf himself, trying to raise himself as much as he could to see above his surroundings.

There.

There he was. Skinny friggin' twig, only ten feet away, a long tendril reaching out from his arm and stabbing through three screeching monsters at once.

Rocket blasted the creature running at him, then looked back at his kid, squinting, hardly believing what he was seeing. He could barely find his voice

"Groot?"

The bark on Groot's face shifted as he turned towards Rocket and yanked his branches out of the dead enemies.

"I am Groot?"

What the hell, man?

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Rocket said, turning away for just a second to take down another creature, "Of course my eyesights alright, why would you even ask that for?"

"I am Groot!"

"I'm not old, it's only been five years!"

"I am Groot!" he said, burying his arm in the ground, roots shooting up and piercing anyone near enough to get murdered as Rocket turned away from him and blasted yet another monsterous alien.

Man, the kid was just as much an annoying douche as he remembered. Rocket had missed it so damn much..

"Whatever, man!" He shouted over the agonized screams of Groot's victims, unable to keep the chuckle out of his voice. He turned back to look at Groot, the -

Got 'er.

*******

Nebula and Rocket made eye contact. She'd been scanning the horizon, blasters held straight out in front of her, aim shifting from face to face before she saw him. Recognition lit up her eyes as herbchin tilted up. Rocket grinned devilishly at her, shooting a snarling enemy down without looking.

Relief flooded them both as they spun back into the fray. They'd done it. Finally, the world was right. Finally

Chapter Text

"What the hell happened to my ship?!"

"Your ship?" Rocket jumped up onto the table, sneering at Peter Quill as he walked around the Benatar, poking and prodding every little thing he didn't recognize, scooting past where Groot was sitting against the wall, his old and miraculously still-working game blipping in his hand. He'd grabbed it up hardly a minute after they'd returned to the Benatar, "Excuse me, Star-Brat, but it seems to me like this ain't been your ship for the last five years. Our ship is doin' just fine."

"You put all this junk in here?" Quill said, eyes wide as he stared at the Guardian on the table, batting at a cable overhead.

"Junk?" Rocket crossed his arm, quirking up an eyebrow.

Looked like Quill was as big a dick as ever. Awesome.

"You do not know that it is junk, Peter." Mantis interjected from where she sat at the table, brow knit above her wide eyes, "You don't even know what the new things can do, maybe they're good."

"Of course they're good, what do ya take me for?" Rocket said.

"I am Groot?" Groot glance up from his game with a smirk.

"No one asked you. Watch it or you're losin' that." Rocket glared as Groot rolled his eyes with a scowl.

Friggin' kids.

"Rocket has done nothing but improve the Benatar since you all disappeared," Nebula cut in, coming out from the hallway into the common area.

Rocket smiled a little; she had put the yellow-gold plating back on. He'd found them on the battlefield before they'd boarded the Benatar. Still looked pretty cool.

"Improve?" Peter said, stopping in front of the screen, looking at Nebula like she'd grown another head, "How is all of this an improvement?" he asked, gesturing to their surroundings, eyes casting around wildly. He opened a panal on the wall next to him, peering into the maze of wires and circuits inside, "What does this even connect to, it doesn't make any sense!"

"Not to you, sure, but you never were too bright a bulb, were ya?" Rocket said, smiling nastily.

Glaring, Quill slammed the panel shut and, with a confused expression, put his booted foot on the box Rocket had been using to reach the screen. With a heave, he sent it skidding into the corner.

Okay... this isn't what Rocket had imagined. He'd imagined laughs and music and card games and drinking and just... hanging with his family, shootin' off all over the galaxy that they were all, once again, guarding. This... he'd forgotten about this part. The part where, a lot of the time, he and Pete didn't exactly get along. He looked around at all of the newly-existing Guardians; there was a lot he'd forgotten, things that, as more time had passed, he just hadn't thought about. Things that weren't good. With a nervous frown, he peeked at Nebula; she was looking around at the other Guardians, a bewildered severity in her eyes.

Awe man...

Uncrossing his arms and jumping down from the table towards the Zune's charging port, Rocket glowered at Quill as he brought up the screen and started tapping around. He knew exactly what song to put on. When he arrived at the dock, however? No Zune.

What the...

"Hey," he said, scanning the room, "you guys seen -"

There it was. Quill had it tucked in his belt.

Rocket's jaw went slack, hands limp at his sides as he stared at the Terran device. He looked up at the back of Quill's head, a terribly uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. Unbeknownst to him, Nebula watched him with a squint, arms crossed.

"Seen what?" Mantis asked.

"Uh.... nuthin'." Rocket didn't feel all that good.

"These Zargnuts are stale." Drax said, standing by the counter and looking dejectedly into the small bag of snacks cupped in his hand.

"What, are you surprised?" Rocket said, not meaning to snap, "They've been sitting in the frickin' cabinet there for five years

"Why didn't you replenish our supply?"

"Because Zargzuts are disgusting, and Nebula doesn't like 'em either."

Drax looked from Rocket to Nebula.

"They're repulsive," she rasped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rocket saw Quill glance at her, mouth quirked and brow furrowed.

Huh.

"Repulsive?" Drax glared at Nebula incredulously, "They are delicious. How could you possibly think otherwise?"

Nebula rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall.

Drax dug his large fingers into the bag, picking out another nut and putting it in his mouth. Almost instantly, he made a face.

"If they are so stale, why are you still eating them? Clearly you do not like them." Mantis asked as she watched another nut go into his mouth.

"There's nothing else on the ship I want." He said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

"Idiot," Nebula breathed. Quill sent another look her way.

"Whatever man," Rocket said, "can we just cool it with this crap until later? In case you forgot, we got a funeral to go to. Nebs, set a course for Georgia."

Nebula nodded, moving to head towards the cockpit. Quill shot a sharp look at Rocket.

"Hold on, wait wait wait wait," Quill said, waving his hands as if too slow the situation. Nebula stopped in her tracks, "Nobody's setting a course for anywhere. A funeral? For who?"

"Is it for Gamora?" Mantis said, her voice small, perking up with a frown.

"Gamora isn't dead," Drax said, eating yet another well-expired Zargnut, "she faught alongside us against Thanos on the battlefield."

Groot glanced up for just a second, sinking lower down in his chair, curling closer to his game; Rocket had already told him what had happened. It hadn't been the easiest of conversations.

"That was not Gamora. Not as you know her." Nebula rasped.

"Okay, just... hold on a second," Quill looked at Nebula with an almost interceptible sneer; her words seemed to have woken him up, "Where did you even come from?"

"Where did she come from?" Rocket looked up at Quill.

"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean," Nebula's deep voice was calm, monotone, but that edge was there, the one Rocket knew meant trouble.

Ah boy, here we go.

"What, you're just here now? Outta the blue?" Quill said, hands on his hips.

"I've just been here for five years." Nebula said, eyes half-mast, head tilted just a little to the side.

"That ain't exactly outta the blue." Rocket added.

"Five years?" Quill's eyebrows shot up.

"So you are a Guardian now?" Mantis asked, eyes wide.

"No." Quill was shaking his head, looking around at all of them unsurely, voice higher than usual, "No. She's not. A Guardian, no."

"Yeah, she is," Rocket said flatly.

"We should vote." Drax suggested, finally putting down the Zargnuts and leaning back against the counter.

"I am Groot," Groot limply raised a hand. Rocket smirked up at Quill.

"I too vote yes. She has been here a really long time, Peter." Mantis rose from her seat and looked at Nebula, "When you think about it, Nebula has been a Guardian longer than I have been a Guardian."

"That... doesn't... " Quill was floundering.

"Gamora invited her, Pete."

Quill's eyes shot to Rocket. His jaw was slack, eyebrows knit.

"It don't matter what the vote is," Rocket said, crossing his arms, "Nebs is stayin', Quill."

"And we're going to Georgia." Nebula said shortly, eyes darting around at all of them before she, once again, started for the cockpit.

"Okay, just hold on." Quill said, holding his hands up.

Nebula groaned, rolling her neck as she turned around to looked at him. The glare she was shooting him was bordering on dangerous. Her mouth was a tight line, her black eyes wide.

"Is it for that Stark guy? We don't even hardly know him." he said.

"You didn't know him." Nebula said, her deep voice colored by her irritation.

"We did," Rocket added, jerking his head at Nebula as he stared Quill down.

"And if it weren't for that Stark guy you'd still be a pile of dust on Titan. We're going."

Nebula continued into the cockpit, Quill staring after her.

"I thought you were the Captain, Quill." Drax said, looking at Peter as he followed Nebula.

"I am!" Quill said.

"I am Groot," Groot said, shoulders hunched as he and Mantis followed Drax and disappeared into the cockpit.

"Just... just go sit down, and put your seatbelt on this time." Quill shook his head slowly, eyes finding Rocket again. His brow shot up, "Nebs?"

This frickin' guy.

"It's called a nickname," Rocket said with a small sneer.

"Yeah, I got that, it's weird. That's... that's Nebula, dude." Peter turned away from him, tapping around on the screen. Gamora's face suddenly dominated the space in front of Quill; Rocket winced. "We've met her in person what, like two times?"

Okay.

"I don't know how you're not gettin' this, man, but you've got some major frickin' catchin' up to do. She's been livin' here for the last five years."

"She lives here?" Quill looked at him, bewildered.

"Yeah, she does, and that ain't changin' just cuz all of a sudden you exist again."

Peter's lip curled as he watched Rocket head towards the cockpit, "You're acting totally weird." He went back to swiping around on the screen, plugging ear buds into his ears as he glanced down at the Zune, clicking through it.

The Zune... dammit.

Rocket glared back over his shoulder as he entered the cockpit. Before heading to his seat, Rocket took in his family. The people he loved. Mantis and Drax, Groot tapping away at his game. This ship had been empty for so long. Four awesome years with the same faces, five shitty years without them.

And now there was Nebula... man.

It might take a while, and this hadn't been good, but she'd fit. The guys just had to get used to her... and she had to get used to the guys. That was the thing that was making him a little nervous; the guys were idiots. Rocket exhaled a small laugh, that didn't take his misgivings away.

As he looked on at her, Nebula turned toward him. Her black eyes made contact with his, and she nodded. Hiding a grimace, he nodded back. He found his way to his chair and buckled in, the ghost of Tony Stark whispering, unconvincingly, in his head as he tried to push down the disturbing feeling in his gut.

She'll stick around. It'll be fine.

... Crap

Chapter Text

Peter Quill, the self-proclaimed Legendary Star-Lord, was drunk. Again.

He'd been teetering in his seat at the dirtied communal table of the Benatar for the last half hour. For an hour, Sam Cooke's "Bring It On Home To Me" had been blasting from the speakers. Last week it had been "Fooled Around And Fell In Love" by Elvin Bishop. The first week after they'd left Earth, Tina Turner's "You Better Be Good To Me" had screamed throughout the ship. According to Rocket, it had been one of Gamora's favorites.

He'd told Nebula this quietly, in almost a mumble, and he hadn't looked at her as he'd spoken, copper eyes instead locked blinkingly on the floor. That behavior had become a trend. An uncomfortable one.

Week three and Nebula, leaning on the archway to the hallway as she watched the captain of the Guardians sit slumped over on the table, would be good with never hearing any of those songs again. She assumed Groot, who was seated on a chair against the wall as he tapped away at his game, felt the same. On this night, Drax and Mantis had left when the song had been started over for the fourth time, stepping off the Benatar to explore the night life of Contraxia, which is about the time Quill had started drinking. Rocket was... somewhere. He was always somewhere else lately.

Rocket. Something wasn't right

Currently on the screen was displayed, nearly big as life, her sister's face. Nebula had seen Quill quickly swipe away from it dozens of times now, the orange text above the icon always the same; Searching. This was the first time he'd forgotten himself and left it up. Nebula knew where Gamora was, the sister that wasn't really her sister, but she wasn't planning on telling Quill any time soon. It was all too... messy.

"Another, my Guardian friend!" Thor crashed into the seat next to Quill, jostling the Guardian awake with his elbow, a drink in both hands, "Drink up! What sorrows you have will be drowned in this delicious blue ale!"

Thor. Yeah.

Nebula hoped the God of Thunder wouldn't be around too much longer. In the three weeks she had lived with him, she had started to like Quill, understanding more and more what it was Gamora had seen as she fought by his side. He'd taken his leadership of the Guardians back, and though it had been uncomfortable, she and Rocket eventually, in Rocket's case begrudgingly, fell in step as they all worked together. But when Quill got low? It was bad. Extremely bad. Thor was all too ready to drink his own sorrows away as well, and he wasn't helping the situation.

"Hey, uh, Thor?" Kraglin said, stepping in from the hallway, "I'm thinkin' that maybe the Cap'n' might'a had enough for ta'nite."

"We all have," Nebula said huskily.

Kraglin looked at Nebula, raising his chin at her ever so slightly. The Xandarian had joined their crew two weeks ago, stating, "I'm gettin' too damn old to be Ravagin'." No one had protested, though Rocket had complained that it was getting crowded. Nebula agreed. The bodies and the noise that suddenly surrounded her, it was taking some getting used to.

No more quiet evenings, not for a long time.

"Nonsense!" Thor said, putting his arm around Quill's shoulders, the matted tangles of his long, dirty-blond hair falling in front of his eyes, "The night is young! And we were, once again, victorious today."

"All you did was sit on a rock," Nebula growled.

"Victoriously," Thor said, brow raised as he pointed at her.

Idiot.

The song faded out. Thor beamed, "Now, another song! How about something a little more... upbeat this time, hmm?"

"NnnnO." Quill roared.

He extracted himself from the Asgardian's arm, staggering dangerously to his feet. He took slow, small, unsteady steps to the where the Zune sat on its perch, crashing his arm across his mouth to wipe off the drool accumulating there. Swaying, he jabbed his clumsy fingers at the Terran device. Music echoed through the ship as Groot and Kraglin groaned. Nebula's black eyes narrowed

"We're bringin'in home!" Quill slurred, practically falling back to his seat.

"Very well!" Thor grinned, clapping the captain of the Benatar on the back and taking a long drink.

Groot grimaced over his game, thumbs frozen over the buttons.

"I am Groot."

Before Nebula could agree with him, Rocket emerged from the hallway, already scowling and clearly aware of the circumstances. He scanned the room, and when his gaze found Quill and Thor, the scowl deepened. It was when he saw Groot, the teenager's beady eyes locked on Quill as his game sat limp in his hands, that Rocket bared his teeth in a snarl. Before anyone could say a word of warning, he'd crossed the room and lifted the Zune off of its port. The speakers went dead, and Sam Cooke's voice sung faintly from the Zune itself before Rocket silenced that, too.

"Hey!" Quill shot to his feet, gripping Thor's shoulder for support, his other hand pointed hard at his fellow Guardian. Nebula's hand twitched. Rocket seemed unfazed. "Don' touch my Zune."

"If I have to hear that song one more damn time, I'm gonna lose my frickin' mind." Rocket shoved the Zune in his back pocket.

"Giveitahme, you stupid raccoon," Quill lunged at Rocket, nearly losing his balance as Thor stood and wrapped an arm around his middle, "Iz mine"

Nebula's entire body tensed as her eyes narrowed at Star-Lord. The sneer that erupted across Rockets face was violent, dangerous as his ears went flant against his head, hands becoming claws.

"I'm not a raccoon, douche-bag! Call me that again and -"

"I am Groot."

Groot stood up from his seat with a glare. Rocket's psture relaxed as he looked at the flora colossus. Shoulders hunched, he trudged roughly through the room and down the hallway, slamming the door of his bedroom behind him.

The silence that followed was... uncomfortable.

"Uuuh, Quill! Let us take our revels into the city!" Thor boomed. "I bet Mantis and the Destroyer will be absolutely delighted to have our company!"

"Yeah, sure they will." Rocket said acidly, crossing his arms.

Thor didn't seem to notice. Nebula looked at Kraglin as the two men staggered toward the already lowered gangplank.

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye on 'em," he drawled.

Nebula nodded at him. Once Kraglin, Thor, and Quill had disappeared out into the night, Nebula stalked up to the screen. With a swipe, Gamora disappeared. She looked at where her sister's face had been for a moment, then turned to Rocket. He was staring at her.

They were alone. Silence stretched. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Bordering on unbearable. He cleared his throat.

"I'll, ah," he blinked rapidly, looking away, "I'll go check up on the fuel situation," he said, glancing at her before he, too, left the Benatar.

Nebula glared after him. There was no fueling situation to look into; they'd been topped off and paid for hours ago.

To hell with this.

She followed him, her stride long, her feet heavy, prepared to go as far as necessary. It turned out, that wasn't far at all.

He'd stopped on the gangplank, sitting on a step halfway to the earth of Contraxia. They were far from the city, and the light pollution wasn't disturbing the stars. The stars where what Rocket now stared up at.

Nebula hesitated, looking at him; this small creature, rude and brilliant and such an idiot. She was nervous, hands and jaw clenched tight, but she inhaled deeply, then slowly descend to him, taking a seat on his left. A flood of déjà vu washed over her; they'd been here before, five years ago on a night like this, at the beginning. Now, as they sat together, something in her gut was telling her that this felt like... an ending.

The silence between them... it was horrible and foreign.

"Were they always like this?" Nebula asked, breaking the tense silence when she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Eh, pretty much like this, yeah." Rocket responded, eyes staring off, unfocused, "Pete ain't right, but otherwise, yeah."

Nebula nodded. Silence stretched.

"Hey. I been thinkin' about Knowhere." Rocket said, "About that deal with the Collector."

Nebula looked at him. His face was unreadable, small hands on his bent knees.

"So have I," she said after a moment, gazing up with him, "The galaxy is full of refugees, millions left with nowhere to go. Knowhere could be a sanctuary. And anyway, there's no room on the Benatar for all of us."

"Yeah," Rocket said, still not looking at her, "I got somethin' in mind for that. And Knowhere... It'd be good to have a base. Somewhere that... ya know..." Rocket looked down. "It's just... it's so damn loud around here."

His voice was... weak.

"Yes." Nebula said with a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, still gazing up. "It is."

Once again, silence fell, but she knew it wouldn't last long. Sure enough, he again looked up at the stars.

"Hey Nebs?"

Her black eyes found him.

"Are you stayin'?"

That question again, five years later. Once again, she was unsure. This team, these people, it... wasn't exactly what she had signed up for. But the longer she looked at Rocket...

Just a little, she smile, hard and tight as something thick rose in her throat, and she wrapped her right hand around his small, clever, clawed left.

"Yes."

Rocket, finally looking at her, smiled a smile that matched her own, even as the fur underneath his eyes wetted.

"Okay." He said.

For a long, quiet moment, the two Guardians of the Galaxy stared forward toward where they knew the city and the other Guardians of the Galaxy were, Rocket's small hand wrapped tight around one of Nebula's fingers. They didn't voice their thoughts and didn't need to. These five years that they had shared...

Yeah. From here on in? Things were going be different.

"I should go to the city," Nebula said, her grip loosening. Rocket relaxed his fingers and let her hand easily slide away from his. She stood, "Kraglin won't be able to wrangle four idiots by himself."

"No kiddin'," Rocket smirked as she descended the gangplack, boots hitting earth. He, too, stood. "Especially with one of 'em bein' the God a' Thunder or whatever."

"Are you coming?" She asked, pausing to turn and look at him. From where he stood, they were eye level.

"Nah, you go on ahead," he waved her off, "I got some crap to take care of in here."

She nodded with a near-imperceptible smile. No-one but him, looking at her, would have known it was there. She turned away. As she trudged towards the city, she swiped an errant tear from her cheek, thoughts falling to the replaced finger, her mended spine, the pain in her legs and arms and hands that wasn't there, the organic heart in her chest... the yellow-gold plating that peppered her body...

The fear that didn't exist in her mind, the shadows she wasn't expecting around every corner, the freedom that had surrounded her for five years.

Family.

Yeah, she was staying.

Rocket watched her walk away for a moment, then, wiping his nose on his sleeve, went back into the Benatar. He looked around the communal area; the evidence of the resurrected Gurdians of the Galaxy was strewn on every surface he could see, cluttering the existence he was so accustomed to. Blasters and knives and clothes. Half-empty cups, mostly-eaten food packets. Vines creeping down the hallway from the room Groot had disappeared into. Grime already accumulating in the kitchen. Here and there, a small, open bag of Zargnuts. Even as his heart thrummed with relief at the sight, something else...

He smiled, but it was small, with just the slightest trace of an unsettled and guilty arch of his eyebrow. Slight, yes, but still there.

Pulling the Zune out of his back pocket, Rocket gripped it tight in his right hand. Sighing heavily, he went to the port and plugged it in. He stared at the little machine, lips in a tight line, then suddenly jerked his hand up to click through it. He navigated to the playlists and went to the 1970's, scrolling up and down through the names: Eagles, Gladys Knight & the Pips, Steely Dan -

There.

Rocket's hand froze, hovering over the name. The lump rose in his throat again. At long last he selected the song, sighing as a slow rhythm filled the Benatar.

A voice joined the music as Rocket stared at the Zune. He listened for a minute or so, then tore his eyes away and slowly climbed up on a chair, perching on the edge of the table.

Music swirled around Rocket as he reached into the pocket of his pants with a sigh. His small, clawed fingers nudged aside a key that had been there longer than he could remember and took hold of a small, folded triangle of paper. Pulling it out of his pocket, he cradled it in his two hands on his lap, thumbing its long edge. He stared around himself; Quill's jacket draped over a chair, a game Groot had set aside inert on the counter, one of the shirts Drax had bought out of the blue heaped on the table, Kraglin's Yaka arrow beside it, the last of the case of Earth beer Thor had brought along on the edge of the counter, a pair of Mantis's boots propped up by the gangplank...

And Nebula's blasters resting so nonchalantly on a small table in the corner...

Brow furrowed, smiling bitterly down at the triangle of paper with his chin tilted up, Rocket allowed his tears to once again wet the fur beneath his eyes as David Bowie's increasingly strained, distressed voice rang hard over the speakers;

We've got five years, stuck on my eyes!
Five years, what a surprise!
We've got five years, my brain hurts a lot!
Five years, that's all we've got!

Yeah. From here on in, things were gonna be different. And yeah, she was stayin'... Okay. Here we go.