Rocket growled angrily, pulling on his ears to block out the noise. He opened his eyes to see nothing but the serene darkness of his bedroom, well besides the hallway light that shone through the gaping hole in the wall. Rocket couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but he was fairly certain that Groot had torn away the locked door while Rocket had been going through his second episode that day.
He was still turned towards the wall in the same position he had been in since Drax had finally left him and judging by the silence gracing the small room, Rocket could only guess that Groot had gone as well, leaving his friend to himself, clutching his head as though holding together a lump of sand that would otherwise fall apart.
He knew that there was no one else in the room with him, yet Rocket still couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched, or more accurately, studied. The raccoon absolutely hated the feeling of being stared at, and unfortunately for him, his physical appearance didn't exactly blend in with the usual crowd, meaning that he got a lot of unusual looks from bystanders.
And even though the team was more open minded than those people, he could still feel their eyes on him constantly. He knew that as a creature with fur to cover his small body, Rocket hadn't really the need to wear clothes. Hell, it wasn't like the scientists had really given him anything to wear in that blasted lab other than a collar and those godforsaken metal implants that were so graciously given to him with a lovely 'no return' policy. But the scars that marred his back and chest only drew more attention than the creature was willing to put up with, so, despite the scratchy fabric rubbing his course fur the wrong way, Rocket made sure to cover up his incisions and any other evidence of his time in that damn prison.
At least physically.
Rocket curled in on himself further as the voices of those who tortured him for so long sounded loudly in his head. They're not real. He reminded himself, gritting his sharp teeth together as a shudder ran up his spine.
He slowly brought a hand down to rub his neck as it began to itch uncomfortably, the phantom pains of the collar being yanked on so harshly coming back to him.
"Perfect." He groaned, barely hearing himself over the other voices in his head, when another sharp pain erupted in between his shoulder blades, almost making him yelp in surprise, but Rocket managed to bite his tongue before the strangled sound could make it out of his throat. The last thing he needed was another intervention with the other guardians about his 'problem.'
Well it was a problem, but it sure as hell wasn't their problem. Rocket thought numbly, wincing as the voices became suddenly louder. He couldn't understand a word they were saying, but it was sure enough to drive the raccoon insane.
He wanted to shout at the stupid voices to shut up already, but he knew that would do him little good seeing as the only ones who would end up hearing him were the other guardians, and right now, he wanted to keep under the radar with those four. Quill was already practically breathing down his back and of course Groot wasn't about to leave the matter alone but Rocket actually hadn't expected much from Drax and Gamora, which is why he was rather surprised to have woken up from his previous nightmare in none other than Drax's arms.
He hated it. All of it. Being stared at, looked down upon, being treated like some kind of little freak. Of course, he was, he knew he was, but it didn't mean he liked being treated like one. Rocket had put up with enough in his short lifetime to let a few glares from the 'higher species' get to him. But it still caused the raccoon to falter every time someone instantly defaulted to rodent or vermin when trying to address him.
The voices had quieted enough to allow Rocket to raise himself into a sitting position, running his shaking hands through his fur. He winced as the thin fabric of his shirt caught on one of his protruding implants, pulling on the sensitive skin. Cringing when a wave of memories tried to force their way upon him again. Memories of deep voices and electrocution, shouting and needles, blood, the smell of chemicals-
Rocket shook his head furiously. This wasn't about to happen again. He looked at the clock hanging on the wall across the room. It had been three hours since his last episode and he hadn't even tried to fall back asleep, especially with those damned voices ringing in his head, and he certainly didn't want to risk leaving, afraid he'd end up being trapped in some sort of meeting about his 'special issue.'
He scoffed at the thought. Whatever this issue was, he could face alone, he didn't need the others staring down at him, eyes full of pity. He had worked far too hard to earn his reputation as the weapon addicted uncaring Rocket to lose it now because of a few stupid flashbacks.
His feet hit the floor and he instantly felt a twinge of unease in his stomach. He really didn't want to have to face the others. But he knew that the more that he stayed in this blasted room, the more they would worry. It was best to pretend it had never happened, keep them off his back for a little while at least so he could figure things out himself.
He felt no vibrations from the ship as he made his way through the corridors, which meant that they had landed somewhere for the time being, maybe he would be able to sneak out at some point, get himself a drink, at least that was his plan until he found everybody gathered in the kitchen.
...
To say that Gamora was frustrated was the understatement of the year. She was sitting back down in Quill's makeshift kitchen, a chipped cup filled to the brim with a bitter tasting liquid called coffee in her green hands. She grimaced at the taste, yet still found herself drinking it every morning.
She leaned forward in her creaky chair and placed the mug down on the cluttered table, having already cleared a designated area of scattered papers and something that looked quite a bit like a bomb, most likely curtesy of the ship's furry mechanic.
She ran her slender fingers through her dark hair groaning as a dull pain began to throb in her head. It was still rather early. In fact, after the whole Rocket incident she had never even tried going back to her bedroom, deciding that she wouldn't be getting much sleep anyhow.
Drax had since docked the ship onto the nearest planet, a small and rather crowded planet, but it would give the group time to restock the ship and hopefully allow everyone to process exactly what was happening with their furry partner.
It was obvious that the assassin was not the type to often have a sentimental or otherwise sensitive demeanor, and she didn't hesitate to show it when Rocket got on her nerves, such as when he left his handheld grenades on the floor for her to trip on in her morning haze (Quill had not taken kindly to having his ship almost destroyed in a stray blast.) But she did, however, care for each of the four other guardians and considered them all to be her family.
Not that she really had that high of standards for a family seeing as though hers for the majority of her life consisted of being tortured by Thanos and striving to rise above her jealous sister, Nebula. But the band of misfits, as Peter had once called them, was growing closer by the day and the normally relentless warrior found herself growing fonder of them in a way that she couldn't quite place.
Out of all of them though, Rocket was the only one who refused to open up to anybody, despite his walking tree friend that is. In fact, she couldn't think of a time since they had met where Groot had willingly left the small creatures side. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Rocket was certainly not a social animal, often times wishing to remain on the ship tinkering with his explosives than explore a new planet with the others, unless it involved some type of alcohol, which she wasn't sure was the best thing for a raccoon to be ingesting, biologically enhanced or not. But he always seemed to be stuck to Groot's side, whether it be riding on the tall figure's shoulder or carrying him in a pot, it was the only time Rocket ever really opened up.
She remembered trying to hold conversations with the small mammal during those long nights when neither of them could sleep, often walking in on him taking apart Quill's ship and screwing them into one of his many inventions, only to receive a few nervous shrugs or nods in response to her comments. Gamora eventually stopped trying to engage him in conversation during these times, instead deciding to simply watch the small maniac work in a deafening silence.
It had been one of those silent nights that she had actually taken to think about who Rocket actually was. Peter had been right that day on Yondu's ship. They were all a bunch of losers. Drax had lost his wife and daughter to Ronan, and he certainly didn't find the need to hide his intentions against their murderer. Peter himself had lost his whole planet, being abducted at such a young age, and by the sound of it, the same day his mother had died. She herself had even confided in the others of her parent's deaths at the hands of Thanos. But Rocket...
She found herself watching the raccoon more closely after that, catching those moments when his lip twitched into a snarl when the locals stared incredulously at the smaller creature. The way he flinched in pain whenever something even touched his back, although she could never place why. But one thing that she found most alerting was how Rocket reacted to his titles.
Gamora knew she had made the horrible mistake of calling him rodent once or twice before and Drax had fallen into his literal terms of speaking every once and awhile, let it be derogatory or just for speaking to the raccoon. But both had halted instantly upon hearing Rocket's drunken speech that night on Knowhere.
She had never thought the aggressive creature could have ever looked so... broken. And really, that was the only word she could use to describe Rocket now as he was left shaking like a scared child in his living quarters after having a panic attack that she hadn't even thought possible by the otherwise fearless animal.
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Gamora was brought out of her daze upon hearing Peter's voice as he stepped into the room, looking thoughtfully at her cup of coffee before nodding as though being struck with a sudden idea, making his way over to the half-filled coffee pot.
She ran her hands through her hair again, twisting the bright ends in between her green fingers before shaking her head. "I'm worried about him Quill." She admitted solemnly, ignoring the almost shocked expression that Peter gave her from across the kitchen. She wasn't one to be open with emotions, in fact, she had been raised for most of her life to pretend she didn't have emotions. But just thinking about that agonizing scream that had initially woken her made her stomach clench in what she could only express as guilt.
Guilt for not being there, not understanding. Guilt for allowing Rocket to be alone for so long that he no longer thought he could trust anyone to help him, to not see him as the monster she knew he thought he was.
Peter stood behind her, holding his mug in one hand and running the other through his own hair. Gamora could feel him staring at her but didn't turn around to face him, she was far too busy staring at the ripples in the dark liquid in front of her as both Drax and Groot made their way into the now crowded room as well.
"I found myself unable to sleep." Drax explained, as he pulled out another chair to sit down across from Gamora.
Peter nodded in agreement. "Welcome to the club buddy." He said, lifting the bitter drink to his lips.
Drax furrowed his brow, looking at both Groot and Gamora for an explanation. "Which organization are you referring to?" He finally asked, receiving a stifled laugh from Gamora as Peter tried explaining the figure of speech to the larger man. "I am not fond of these metaphors." He admitted, rubbing his forehead tiredly, it was obvious no one had gotten any sleep since having been woken up by Rocket's panic induced yelling.
A sudden movement from the other side of the room caught Gamora's attention as Groot made his presence known as well, stepping into the room further, his hands clasped almost sheepishly as he looked up towards Quill, his bright eyes pleading. "I am Groot." He said somberly.
Peter pursed his lips and nodded at the humanoid. Only Rocket could actually make sense of Groot's selective vocabulary, but at that moment, they were all able to figure out exactly what the wooden man was trying to tell them, his wavering voice saying it all.
"We're worried too buddy." Quill assured him, getting a small grunt in reply as Groot looked away sadly. "We're going to figure this out though right? I mean we're the Guardians of the freaking Galaxy for goodness sake! I think we can take care of something happening with our own partner right?" He pressed.
Gamora couldn't help but smile. Despite her previous views of the wanted thief, it was obvious that Peter was by far the most dedicated of all of them. Not that the others didn't share in loyalty to their goals. Drax had even called Ronan in determination to avenge his family. But Quill had openly sacrificed himself to not only save his friends from the effects of the infinity stone, but the entire planet of Xandar and more importantly, the galaxy itself, from destruction, knowing full well that he should have died if not for his mysterious father's origins.
"Ahem."
The four froze instantly, turning towards the doorway to face the raccoon in question. Gamora found herself averting her gaze guiltily, biting her lower lip as Rocket scanned them with a look of anger and dare she say it, embarrassment.
"Well good morning to you too." He said begrudgingly when no one decided to speak, making his way into the crowded kitchen area and practically leaping onto the counter for a better view of the limited food choices. He picked up a slightly bruised fruit that they had picked up in Xandar before turning around again, taking a large bite out of the dripping produce.
No one spoke, sending them all into a rather awkward silence, only broken by Rocket's chewing and the sound of Quill's blasted music playing quietly in the background.
Finally, Gamora felt peter shift behind her, his hands clutching the back of her chair for support. "Um, hey Rocket?" He said hesitantly. The raccoon didn't respond any more than a side glance as he bit into the fruit again. Peter took this as a sign to continue. "We need to talk."
Rocket stiffened visibly, his glare hardening and his jaw beginning to clench. "No thank you." He responded though gritted teeth. Peter opened his mouth to retort when he was cut off as the raccoon spoke again. "Hey, where are we anyway?" He asked, his aggressive glare sliding away as though the previous conversation had never happened. Gamora silently cursed the creature's determination as he pushed the problem away once again.
Quill let out a sigh of exasperation, obviously feeling the same way as Rocket continued to refuse eye contact, staring at the pit of the fruit that now sat in his hands as though it had somehow offended him.
"We're some ways off of Xandar." He explained. "Some planet between there and the Kyln I think." He explained, Drax hadn't gone into much detail of where exactly he had landed their ship.
Rocket nodded, pushing himself off of the counter and landing with a soft thud before making his way back out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Drax asked the retreating figure.
The raccoon just waved him off. "Don't get your panties in a twist sunshine. I'll be back in a bit." He shouted back.
Drax stiffened upon the comment, grasping the arms of his chair with unease. "But I'm not wearing..."
...
Rocket let out a sigh of relief as he approached the bustling bar. He needed the time to unwind and hopefully the alcohol would numb the throbbing pain in his head. The voices had all since returned, only blending in with the slurring drunks filling the darkly lit bar.
He grasped the edge of one of the tattered red stools at the counter, ignoring the man next to him as his eyes practically bulged out of his head with surprise. He hated the reaction but was far too exhausted to deal with it now.
The orange skinned bartender approached him with interest, offering him some strange drink that Rocket had never heard of before. Or maybe he had, to tell the truth, he couldn't really make out anything anyone was saying anymore. He simply reached into his trousers, pulling out a few units and tossing them toward the man, smiling in appreciation when a full glass of some blue liquid was placed in front of him.
Rocket took a long distrustful look at the strangely colored drink before taking a long swig. Deciding that it wasn't poisonous, he raised the glass to his mouth again only to freeze. The man sitting next to him had yet to stop staring at him and it was becoming quite unnerving.
The raccoon shifted slightly so that he was facing away from the stranger, hoping he would at some point grow uninterested with the freak in front of him and leave. But he had no such luck. Even with his back facing the figure, he could still feel that gnawing feeling of being watched.
He was about to get up and chose a different seat when a piercing pain suddenly ran up his spine, causing his back to arch, the drink spilling slightly as Rocket leapt up in surprise. He turned around instantly, trying to find the source of the pain only to find the man next to him staring down at him in awe, his hand still reached out after having prodded at the mammal's back.
"What do you think you're doing?" Rocket shouted, the pain fading into anger. The man just kept staring, his eyes growing even wider as the Raccoon continued talking. "What, you don't think it's creepy enough to ogle me like I'm some sort of exhibit? Sorry, but this display is off limits!" He raged on.
"Still hasn't healed then?" The man's voice was somewhat familiar and the words themselves sent shivers throughout Rocket's body.
"What are you talking about?" He asked cautiously.
"Your scars." He said as-a-matter-of-factly. Rocket took a tentative step back but allowed him to continue. "I'm not surprised really, I told them that those implants were too close to your spinal cord, it's a wonder we didn't hit any major nerve endings. It's nice you see you again though, I can't say that I haven't been wondering what became of you after you got out." He chuckled but his voice was full of regret.
The glass slipped from Rocket's shaking hands, shattering the moment it toughed the floor, but everything had gone completely silent in Rocket's mind. The only thing he could hear now was his racing heart and one single thought. He had to get out of there. He couldn't go back.