#and during dread crew i got to get in a nice pit to shredding on a mandolin

[illwynd]

went to a tyr show tonight and i feel oddly like it reset my brain. like the good, hard reset where you straighten a paperclip and stick the end in the little hole.

[trashpandaorigins]

Heaven Can Wait We’re Only Watching the Sky Ch. 6

Rocket’s eyes squeezed shut against the pinching in the crook of his shoulders. Short claws gripped the tiny bathroom sink.

“Breathe….in and out, just breathe…” Gamora’s words of advice spoke softly in his mind. His small body trembled, he gripped the sink harder trying not to fall. He couldn’t fall again, that’d be the third time this week.

“Yo Ranger Rick!” Peter’s fists pounded the door, rattling Rocket’s brain. “What are you doing in there?!” Rocket’s teeth clenched. Just breath it out…. he rode the pain like the waves. His shoulders pinched tightly, and he let out s throaty cough. Flark it….

“Rocket c’mon!!” Peter wailed. “What are you…”

“You don’t want to know Quill!” He forced through the stinging pain in his throat. Momentary silence relieved him.

“Ew…Rocket! People shower in there!” A smile tugged at his muzzle.

“Yeah well that never stopped you and Gamora!” A string of curses followed from Peter.

“I swear to god if you drop dead in there and start stinking up my ship!” The raccoonoid gnashed his teeth and clutched the sink as another stab resonated through his back. In the recent days Peter and he had repeated their usual “post-argument” ritual. Navigating awkward silent circles around each other for a day, then continuing to dance around each other while making eye-contact at brief moments when they thought the other wasn’t going to look for the next two days, with easy jabs at each other peppering the last three to four days depending on what the argument was over. After that, back to normal.

“If I drop dead in here I’m haunting you for he rest of your life Star-stupid!” Rocket yelled back, throat scratching. “You’ll never shit in piece again!” He laughed at the thought. “Have fun trying to get all handsome for Gamora while I’m laughing at your undoubtedly tiny junk!”

“ROCKET!” Peter’s muffled horror made the old raccoon laugh, choke and gag out more viscus black and grey slime from his throat. Rocket hunched over, swallowing the bitter taste. Residue from the chemicals and residue breaking down. 

“Gamora says it’s averaged sized!”

“Gamora’s too nice!” He howled back.

"Your one to talk!” The human growled, pounding his fist once more against the metal door. Rocket chittered through the agony that bit at him,

“I just want you to appreciate the amount of restraint I’m using right now Quill!” He laughed, “trust me, when I say cybernetic enhanced I mean enhanced in every possible way.”

“GROSS ROCKET!”

“Your….your mom didn’t think so!” He shot back through another cough.

“If your trying to make your mom joke it’s not working!” Peter hollered. “Your disgusting, your vile!”

“Also cute and fluffy!” Rocket shouted, the banter distracting him from the pain. He heard the slap as Peter face palmed,

“I know watching Lilo and Stitch for movie night was a bad idea! Just hurry up in there!” Peter shouted; the raccoonoid mused as he heard Peter’s steps drift away. Smell was no longer so poignant. In the left over, quiet Rocket lifted his head, heavy on his shoulders to gaze with dread into the stained mirror and grimace.

“Subject cannot identify its reflection.” He choked out the words that the scientists spoke as they watched him through their strange masks and scribbled on their clip boards. Rocket blinked back the ocean fog of his eyes, the years unrelenting. Trademark dark fur around his eyes now a shade of grey and white. Blinking his eyes found their way down to the metal bolts below each collar bone, and he squinted, trying to see past the fading lines. Rocket reached up a claw to pick at the dark crusted blood that rimmed the metal. He shivered at the stinging pain as he picked away. Flesh burned beneath the patchy fur. Even in the tiny mirror, his face was small. He held his breath and wretched over the sink once more, giving into the ochre of bile. Legs trembling, he groped at the cast-iron for support. He wretched at the site of his scars, almost all of them were made seen by his fur which fell out. As if I needed another reminder of what they did. At least I got some of my own scars now, got by my own d’ast choice he noticed looking down at his own torso. Forbidden territory, even to him. The one on his left side a puncture wound from the time he’d single-handedly taken out four wrerllian assassins. The long-jagged strip, crawling across the flesh of his right ribcage was from a fight in the fourth prison he’d broken out of. The memories crept back from the murk of his mind. Navigating the craggy mountains that were his metal implants and Rocket bit his lip with a worn fang. A monster still. He closed his eyes, unable to look anymore and let his trembling paws fall to his side. They’d made a monster of his body, but out of spite, he’d kept his heart and mind his own, as much as he could, which wasn’t much. Squirreled away under booze and anger and sleepless nights and shouting at those you loved and regretting it later. Dark and concealed. Now all of it was shattering, like gunfire. How fucking poetic.

Rocket reached up, scratching tentatively at the back of his head, under the thin fur the bumps and implants stood out like fungus on a tree beneath his flesh. The mirror mocked him as he starred. A body that was not totally his own, did not belong to him. Even after all these years those hooks, pinchers and scalpels had not left him.

“I am Groot!” The spell was broken, and Rocket quickly ran a paw over his teary eyes and swallowed. Groot, the one who planted flowers in my shriveled little soul and made them grow. He smiled at the thought. And even those flowers had bloomed and shriveled in the seasons of their shared years. Now it’s wilting. Rocket’s stomach turned as he looked at the unrecognizable reflection. Wilting. He forced himself to crack a grin as the words of the Flora Colossus, who called for him once more. inpatient and waiting. Alright buddy, I’m coming. Rocket took a deep breath, the throbbing feeling still vibrating from his back through his entire form. It wasn’t anything new, but the impact of it had worsened. He felt things more deeply now a-days. For better or worse. Steadying himself he opened the door and nodded to Groot.

“I am Groot?”

“M’fine.” But one look at the flora colossus’s large eyes and Rocket knew it was pointless to refute Groot’s questioning. He ducked under his friend’s large legs, out of the small bathroom and into the winding halls of the Milano.

They drifted onward through the sixteenth quadrant, large planets dotted the skies, their bright colors contrasting with the dark sky, a more populated place as Peter had commented the other day after the final fight. It came down to Mantis and Gamora, with Gamora eventually winning though it was no easy feat. Gamora then went on to beat Peter and the crew had celebrated the conclusion of the tournament with toasts to Drax and his family. Several turns later, it was Mantis’s turn to decide what she wanted to do to celebrate her liberation from Ego’s hold. 

“We’ll be headed into Tola in three jumps!” Gamora’s broken voice came over the mics. Flarkm not even enough time to rest, Rocket thought grateful. He hadn’t slept since he listened to that song with Peter. Not even Groot asking if he was alright twice an evening kept him reassured. Rocket felt his way down the hall to the kitchen, feeling the metal pipes and ramps for support. It was harder to move these days, each step brining shooting pain through his feet and up his legs, to his knees and hips. His tail struggled to help him balance, darting this way and that. He reached for purchase, squeezing his eyes shut and hissing at the burning in his hips and the base of his spine. Chronic pain had always been a part of living in a cybernetically enhanced body, but somedays were better than others. Can hardly remember the last “better” day I had, he grimaced as he went down another step. He rounded the corner stifiling a cough,

“Aah! Kraglin!” The ex-ravager blinked down as Rocket collided with his leg and stumbled back lamely. “Watch where your goin’ would yah?”

“Sorry Rock,” Kraglin muttered. “Jus going up to the cock-pit to see us coming up on Tola.” Rocket swallowed the metallic bile that filled his throat.

“Well watch it would yah? I’m trying to walk here pal.” Kraglin frowned, lips drawn.

“You seem irritable.”

“Tsch,” he muttered.

“Listen…” Kraglin’s face softened, “how you feel…”

“If one more person on this d’ast ship asks me how I’m going I’m gonna blow this place to shreds!” He snarled, hair raising on his back, spitting the nasty liquid on to the floor.

“S…sorry,” Kraglin whispered defeated. Rocket watched him slump his way to the cockpit as shame writhed within his stomach. He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself the last dregs of the coffee Quill had introduced them to during their Terran road trip after the Infinity war. Why is everything spinning? Rocket thought, vomiting as the Milano moved.

“We’re here!” Mantis’s squealed. The raccoonoid shook his head and stood, pouring water over the floor where he’d been sick just in time for Drax, Mantis and the rest of them before the rest of them came walking through, Peter laughed at the empath’s glee as Rocket rolled his eyes.

“I am Groot!”

“I AM being nice,” he growled, taking up the rear as the Guardian’s exited the ship and stepping out on to the grey cobble stones and chartreuse skies. Smells of sugar and metal wafted through the raccoonoid’s nostrils, the sweat of the different people winding through the narrow streets pressed against them, the hot sun baking the stone buildings. At least one part of me isn’t fucked up, he thought while they walked.

“You’re doing great Mantis,” Peter pat her on the back whilst she darted about running from stall to stall.

“I KNOW!” She exclaimed, “I really wanted to come to Tola, ever since one of…” She glanced at the human with a meek unspoken apology in her gaze, “Ego’s children mentioned it.” Rocket watched Peter deftly cover the sorrow.

“Well it’s beautiful!” He responded, “what is it you want to do? It’s your day!” Gamora smiled at the man and Rocket himself couldn’t quite look so sour. For once Pete isn’t being a selfish dick. --- To Rocket’s dismay, Mantis wanted to go out for dinner. Tola, as it turned out was a luxurious planet independent from the Nova Empire and served as a getaway for the wealthy of the galaxy. With more shops, restaurants, high-end bars (none the dark dingy drinking holes Rocket preferred,) and a myriad of other expensive luxuries, Mantis only wanted to go out for a nice dinner.

“And how are we payin’ for this smorgasbord?” Rocket demanded,

“What is a smorgasbord?” Drax inquired, moving aside for a woman as she exited the restaurant Mantis had selected.

“I don’t know, I heard Quill say it,” the raccoonoid admitted. Kraglin gazed longingly at the large green tinted windows of Yeveena, with it’s finely dressed diners and ornate chandeliers. Smells of sweet and spice seemed to penetrate the glass and waft through their noses.

“I am Groot,” Groot remarked holding up a small blue card.

“What is that?” Peter demanded, the flora colossus grinned, holding it out to him.

“I am Groot,” he shruggled simply. Gamora, Peter and Rocket balked.

“You got Tony Starks credit card?” The humie demanded, “how? Wait…do I want to know?” Rocket watched Groot shake his head as Peter took the card.

“I’m so proud of you,” Rocket beamed, wiping a fake tear. “See Quill, told you we raised him right!”

“Not sure if ‘right’ is the correct word.” Peter looked at them, Mantis’s expectant face most of all.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “But you all need to behave yourselves alright? This is a classy place here.” Gamora smirked, waltzing past him into the restaurant,

“Speak for yourself!”

Rocket no longer felt angry when the waiter looked down his nose to eye him skeptically. It didn’t faze him when he struggled to choke down the first coarse, swallowing past the nasty coating in this throat. Across the table, Groot’s concerned eyes found him every time he coughed.

“This is so fun, oh thank you all for coming!” Mantis exclaimed through a bite of her w’tavan 

“Not like we had much of a choice,” Rocket mumbled, taking another dreg of his drink, the fourth one of the evening. “Hey!” He snapped, wincing as Drax’s boot slammed his boot into his chin under the table. Fiery pain shot up his legs and he clenched his claws into the wooden chair.

“This is delicious!” Kraglin slurped his uvak noodles with glee and Rocket snickered as the ravager studied the utensils before him perplexed. After charging their meal, drinks and all to Tony’s card Rocket slid down from his seat, paw on his head to trying to still the spinning room. Didn’t even have that much to drink…he told himself, counting the three cocktails he’d consumed in the last two hours. His stomach turned, and he shivered though his skin was burning, even as they strode through the red-tinted rain outside.

“Guardians!” Fuck me, Rocket grumbled at the four udain aliens who rushed up to them, camera pads in hand. “You’re the Guardians of the Galaxy aren’t you?!” One of them wondered in awe, Peter’s smiled from ear to ear, swelling with pride.

“Can we get a picture?!” Another one of them begged.

“Sure!” Peter answered for them, to Rocket’s irritation and by the looks of it, Gamora’s as well. “C’mon guys!” The humie slung an arm around each of the udian women and pulled Gamora and Groot to them on either side. Rocket folded his arms in the front of the camera. He scowled as it clicked and flashed purple across the screen, stepping away as soon as it was done.

“It’s really an honor to meet you!” One of the women spoke, incessantly looking to each of them and turning to Rocket. “Oh! You are Rocket!” He watched blankly as she fumbled with something in her belt. “I heard you build your own weapons!” She shouted, revealing a gun. “I made this myself! Would you sign it?” Stars d…damnnit…what? She wants me to sign? The outline of the weapon bent as he tried to see it.

“S…sure why not?” Trembling fingers reached for the pen she held and he scribbled his name, trying to configure the correct words of his name. She stared at it confused,

“Umm, thank you.” 

“C’mon, Rocket let’s get you some rest.”

“I don’t need fucking rest Quill!” Embarrassment flooded the raccoonoid as they departed, back onto the Milano.

“Ahh!” Rocket could not fight the impulse as his left knee gave way and he crumpled to the ground, throwing up. Fuuck!

“Rocket!” He swatted Peter’s hand away,

“I don’t need you to carry me humie I ain’t dead yet!” He tried to recover any scrap of dignity as he stood, stinging pain flooding through him.

“Alright, fine!” Peter held his hands up helpless. He didn’t wait for Rocket’s begrudged apology but turned on his heal into the ship.

“You alright?” Rocket nearly jumped as Mantis’s large eyes starred inches from his face. She caught her own impulse to touch him and put her hand down.

“No bug lady, I’m not!” He snapped, storming on to the ship and down to the engine room. Painfully creeping onto the metal bench he’d converted into a bed Rocket curled up, tucking his tail over his nose in an effort to get comfortable. Don’t matter if it’s cozy around you, if it’s what’s inside that’s causing the pain. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than the agonizing throbbing of his cybernetics and the buildup of residue from them.

"Why would I want you to sign anything of mine?!” The cruel gaze of the udain woman sneered at him in his nightmare. “you’re nothing but a monster. A pathetic one at that. Rocket fell back on to the concrete, stomach emptying its contents as he stared down the barrel of her gun.

“Look! It puked!” Their laughter rang in his ears.

“No….no!” Faces, masked faces, shooting pain sliced through his abdomen seconds after she pulled the trigger. “Fuck! HHHSSS!!” The excruciating lightening of pain wracked through the raccoonoid as he bolted upright, clawing, sweating, tail thrashing, body trembling.

“I…I am Groot!” The flora colossus held his arms out on either side as if attempting to embrace his friend. Rocket’s heart hammered in his chest, threatening to shatter his fragile ribs. 

“Don’t!!” His nightmares twisted around him:

“Subject 89P13 is expiring.” The people in the masked faces tapped on their data pads. Legs kicked, the panels in his back chilled him, skin festering.

“No!” Rocket lashed out, claws skimming through Groot’s bark. The flora colossus retracted his arm,

“G…groot!” Dirt and earth, he sniffed him out, trying desperately to placate the images in his head.

“What should we do with it?” The masked scientist asked, looking through the strange goggles as Rocket lashed out.

“We could observe it as it expires.”

“We did that with all the other ones,” his nightmare hissed. Rocket gagged, the sour black liquid coming up as he hunched over his blankets. Around him Groot looked down with helpless shame.

“I am Groot?” The deep, familiar sound of his friend’s voice reached his ears through the voices in his mind.

“N….no!” Rocket ran his claws through his fur, have to…tear the machines out….get them out…I’ll rip myself apart before they get the chance! Fur came off in his laws, blood oozing out as he tore across his sensitive flesh.

“Don’t get Mantis!” The raccoonoid screamed over the terrors in his mind. His body shook, why is it so cold? But I’m so hot…what…what is going on…?

“I am Groot!” Please! Rocket ducked, ears flattening as Groot reached out.

“Don’t touch me!” He tried to run from the agony in his body, so many shadows blurred his vision. Groot’s blurry form finally came into view as Rocket blinked, trying to study his friend. His chest heaved, subject is expiring…..expiring…Groot…the flora colossus’s large eyes stared at him, large and full of horror. Me too, Rocket agreed, sniffing.

“What’s it like?”

“I am Groot?” Rocket steadied himself trying to stand up in the corner of his bed against the wall.

“Dying man!” He snareld, “what’s it like?” Groot only cocked his head. Burning pain pushed Rocket to anger, fueling the fire.

“I know you ain’t the old Groot and yah don’t…don’t remember nothing but….but yah must remember something,” Rocket heaved for breath, his sweat causing him to shiver. “What happens, when you die?”

“I am Groot?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?!” Rocket roared, throat raw, terror the likes of which he never knew seized every last vein in his body.

“I am Groot,” Groot looked away, sap rimming his eyes. “I…I am Groot?”

“No!” Rocket growled, tears of his own threatening to release. “Don’t get M…Mantis.” The images flooded him again. Needles, shocks, tests, bones breaking, those eye watching.

“Tell me! Please bud,” Rocket regained clarity for a moment. “Groot!” His voice cracked, “You gotta tell me!”

“I am Groot,” Groot whimpered. Black residue erupted from Rocket once more as he turned away and coughed it up. “I am Groot!” “ N…no!” Rocket shook, swallowing as Groot reached out once more and he shrank back. “Just tell me what happens man! You gotta know, you more than anyone!”

“I AM GROOT!” Groot’s own miserable fury retorted. Rocket froze, realizing. He doesn’t know what to do…how to make me…f..feel better. He can’t make me feel better…Groot closed his eyes, heavy head hanging low. Rocket sniffed, smelling sour shame. Cybernetics clicked, shocking the small raccoonoid’s aging form and causing him to fall forward on all fours, trembling. He gasped, Groot reached out about to touch his back but the wooden hand hovered just barely touching. Unsure. Just do it….do it for him….for his sake. Shuddering, Rocket gathered the shreds of his dignity and pride and swallowed them. It tasted bitter. He slowly lifted his head, its so heavy…looking at Groot’s stricken face that face that looked so much like it had when he was a baby and first witnessed Rocket’s nightmares, his shattered mind laid bare, he’s just as helpless now as he was then. He nodded as he looked up at the flora colossus,

“G….get Mantis….” Without a word, he nodded and departed.

"Puppy!” The empath approached with caution, followed closely by Groot a few moments later, too soon, Rocket thought as he forced himself to breathe through the pain.

“Hey’a Mantis,” he shrugged. He starred at him, wringing her hands, knees trembling.

“G…Groot said you couldn’t sleep?” Rocket looked over her to his friend and nodded.

“Well don’t just stand there,” he finally said, sitting himself down amid his assorted blankets and stolen items scattered across his bed. Mantis nodded, reaching out the palm of her hand, her eyes met Rocket’s with soft determination. He looked at Groot, who nodded. Do it for Groot, taking a deep breath, Rocket stood up on his toes, pressing the top of his head against Mantis’s hand. Warm tendrils of unseen compassion wound from her touch through his parched skin, into his mind, dispelling the scientists, the tools, the memories. He felt his muscles relax, eyes getting heavy. Mantis bit her lip, trying not to cry but Rocket hardly noticed. Calmness drifted through his torso, his arms and legs, soothing his mind, singing him away from the agony of his body into the serenity of his newly peaceful mind. Mantis stroked his fur, bringing a crashing wave of stillness with every touch.

“Sleep,” she whispered. Rocket sniffed, smelling Groot’s earthen scent, Mantis’s genuine kindness. Don’t deserve it, don’t deserve any of this…the thoughts left his mind as soon as they entered with the empaths touch. He twisted around looking over his shoulder even as the empath continued to pet him and Groot stood over them supervising. From the corner of his eyes he could see the panels in his back at an awkward angle. Two bars left…but now he did not fear.

“Th…thaank you,” Rocket whispered just before he let himself slip away into sleep.