Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Guardians of the Galaxy doesn’t belong to me. Just 89P13-15.

Everyone had made it off the High Evolutionary’s ship, the Areta. Everyone except for Sire, his Recorders, and what was left of the Hellspawn, that is.

89P13-15 had been in the middle of the herd of normal animals that Sire had kept, so she’d escaped notice from their ‘rescuers’. She’d first avoided their notice as her cage was very small and close to the ground. The person who’d unlocked her cage had rushed to the next cage without even looking inside. 89P13-15 had managed to avoid being seen the day and a half since, but…

A gurgling noise broke the silence and 89P13-15 wrapped her little arms around her stomach as tightly as she could, trying to… stifle, that’s the word… stifle the noise. She was scared. She’d been scared her whole life but now… Now she was alone.

Sister is gone.

But so is Sire.

A lot of these people on… Knowhere was it? A lot of these people on Knowhere looked and smelled very… similar, that’s the word… similar to Sire and they were built the same too.

But there was a lot of others that didn’t look or smell like Sire. There was one that walked on four legs like a lot of the normal animals did.

And there was even one with mask-like markings who looked just like 89P13-15 herself, but he was bigger and he wore clothes. Sire said Sister and I were the only ones still alive like us. Who is he?

She watched from the roof, her little black nose twitching as she tried to catch the bigger one’s scent while he and the group he was with walked into a building that smelled like food.

89P13-15 had tried to find food there in that same building last night after most of the people had gone to bed. She was able to get into a few bottles of a foul-smelling liquid that had burned her mouth when she’d tried to sip it, causing her to spit it out. But she’d not been able to find food. The smell of food was everywhere, but all she'd found were gray packets covered in some kind of writing that she didn’t understand. The writing on the packets was nothing like the writing Sire had taught her and Sister as part of his puzzles.

89P13-15 had gone back to her rooftop nest and had tried to sleep to escape the growing ache in her stomach. She’d tossed and turned all night.

It was now halfway through day two of hiding and 89P13-15 was getting desperate. She’d decided to risk exploring in broad daylight, even though it terrified her. She’d hopped from rooftop to rooftop, scoured back alleys, even ran across the main street when she was sure no one was looking.

The trash bins in the back alleys were closed, the lids too heavy for her to lift. The buildings that were empty didn’t always smell like food, but when they did, she found the same gray packets. Other buildings she didn’t dare even trying to go into, there were people living there. All the people she had seen were nice to the animals that Sire had owned, but Sire had started out nice too…

The ruins were another place she’d looked. They had been caused by a Hellspawn attack, as 89P13-15 had discovered by listening to people talk as she hid, and they also had nothing… edible, that’s the word…  edible in them.

As 89P13-15 thought about the last day and a half and how much had changed, the one that looked like her paused in the doorway of the building and his striped tail, which was longer and fluffier than hers, swished. His ears turned back towards her, like he was listening.

“I am Groot?” asked the big, brown, plant thing that was beside him. The others in the group had already disappeared inside the building.

The bigger one like her turned his head and 89P13-15 ducked her head down, laying as flat as she could. The lip of the roof hid her from view, but she could still hear them down below.

The bigger one like her spoke and his voice sounded older and deeper than hers, but not as deep as the plant man beside him, “I don’t know Groot. Something smells… not wrong. Just off. I thought I smelled one of the baby raccoons, but… It’s not quite the same smell.”

Raccoons? What are raccoons?

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. There are a whole lot of new animals on Knowhere now, and they do all smell different. Probably one of them was on the roof.”

“I am Groot.”

“I’m not nervous, Groot. Sheesh. The High Evolutionary is locked up. I got nothing to be worried about. And neither do you.”

“I am Groot.” 89P13-15 was getting confused. That plant thing is just saying the same thing over and over.

“Whatever, Groot. C’mon, Quill leaves for Earth in a few hours and Mantis will be shipping out not long-“

What he said next was lost when the sound of a door whooshing closed cut him off. 89P13-15 lifted her little head slightly and, sure enough, the door to the building the group had gone into was closed.

89P13-15 lay there, unable to move more than her head after coming so close to being found out. She tried to control her breathing as her little heart thumped against her chest. It took several minutes before she was able to lift herself to stand, resting her little hands on the lip of the roof.

And then the smell of food filled her nose. Whatever the group inside the building across the street was doing, there was food involved.

Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled louder than before. Before she could stop herself, 89P13-15 had crawled over the lip of the roof and had begun to climb down to the street. Once her little feet hit the ground she froze, her dark brown eyes glued to the door in front of her. Her little tail swished, much like the bigger one’s had. Her ears flattened to her skull. If one of them walks out, they’ll see me.

Well, she hadn’t gotten into the building last night through the front door. The console to open it had been too high and out of reach of her little arms, even when she’d tried to jump. She’d gone through the ductwork. I’ll have to do that again if I have any chance of getting scraps.

89P13-15 ran to the back of the building, nearly scaring herself when she almost tripped over the duct cover she’d left lying on the ground last night. Relax, you can do this. Sister said we can do anything… But that was back when Sister was still alive, before Sire had tried to… change her again. And Sister only said that to make me feel better about not being able to figure out Sire’s puzzles.

89P13-15 was terrified, but she needed to eat.

She crawled up the boxes behind the building, her little claws digging in and giving her purchase. It still felt weird using her claws like this, but it also felt… natural, that’s the word… natural to her.

Once she reached the top of the pile she hopped up and her little hands grabbed the edge of the entrance to the ducts. She scrambled and pulled herself up, pausing long enough to catch her breath.

I need to be quiet.

There wasn’t room enough in the ducts for 89P13-15 to stand, so she crawled forward on all fours until she reached the grate covering directly over a corner of the big room of the building. The smell of food was a lot stronger, and 89P13-15 hoped her stomach wouldn’t growl again. It would give her away if it did. Her mouth started watering again.

The group that had walked in were at one of the tables, all talking over each and laughing, loudly in the case of the big gray bald man with the red markings, as they ate. 89P13-15 sniffed as hard as she could and placed both of her little hands on the grate.

Two things happened.

First, her stomach growled loudly.

Second, the grate, which 89P13-15 just now remembered she hadn’t fully secured so that she could get back in, gave way under her weight.

89P13-15 squeaked and went tumbling head-first down the stack of boxes she’d climbed the night before and then hit the ground, stunned for a moment. She lifted her head slowly and shook it, trying to clear it. When the room stopped spinning, she realized that everyone was quiet.

The group, one that looked like a human but lighter-skinned than Sire, the gray bald man with red markings, one that looked like another pale human but with some kind of antennae, one built like a human woman but colored with different blues and bald, the big brown plant-thing, and the one that looked like her, were all looking at her with shocked looks on their faces.

She felt her eyes get big and she squeaked again, jumping forward, and running on all fours to hide behind the bar. The bar was closed on the other end, and she squeaked yet again when she realized she would be cornered. There were no open shelves back here that she could climb to get over the top of the bar. It was all glass covered cases for that foul-smelling liquid.

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah, I guess I did smell one of the baby raccoons. Poor thing must have got stuck up in the ductwork.” The voice of the one that looked like her sounded like it was getting closer. 89P13-15 stood up and pushed herself as far into the corner as she could, her little ears flat against her skull.

“Is it okay, Rocket? It fell pretty far for something so little,” came a higher pitched voice that had to belong to one of the women.

“I’m sure it’s okay,” came the voice of what sounded like the normal man. “It took off pretty fast as soon as it saw us.”

“But none of the babies are scared of us,” said the big bald man’s voice. “Why would this one be?”

The other woman’s voice answered, “The fall must have scared it.”

“I am Groot,” said the plant man in his rumbly voice.

“I don’t know how it got away from the nursery, Groot, but- Oh man.” The one that looked like her had come around the bar and had stopped, staring at her. His tail drooped.

89P13-15 whimpered and tried harder to push herself into the corner, her ears still flat.

“It’s okay, kid. You’re okay,” the bigger one said softly, kneeling to be closer to her level. He hadn’t come any nearer to her, but 89P13-15 started to panic and tried even harder to push herself as hard as she could into the counter.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“I’m not supposed to be out of my cage,” she whispered back. 89P13-15 didn’t know why she said that. Her cage on the Areta was gone, just like Sire was. There was no reason to say what she said, no reason to be afraid that Sire would be mad. But, cornered like she was, it was the only thing she could think of.

The bigger one looked upset. He sighed and his ears tilted back, “The cages are gone, kid. You don’t have to be scared.”

She whimpered and sat, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her little arms around them.

“Rocket, who are you talking to, what’s- Aww damn,” the normal human had come up around the bar behind the one who looked like her. “Rocket-“

89P13-15 squealed, pushing herself back onto her feet as she turned away from them. She tried to jump to reach the ledge, but it was still out of reach of her little hands.

“Back off, Quill,” Rocket said firmly, but he kept his voice level.

“But-“

“I see, Quill. I got eyes too, ya know. Just back off until she calms down, okay?”

“What’s going on?” asked the woman with the higher voice.

The normal man answered as he backed away, “We missed one, Mantis. It’s a baby raccoon alright, but not one of the ones Rocket rescued and not as little. It looks like that sick bastard did the same thing to her that he did to Rocket. I don’t know how the poor kid got off that asshole’s ship.”

The others started whispering in the background, but 89P13-15 couldn’t hear them anymore. Her heart was now hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears. It was making her head hurt. She jumped once more, but the ledge was still out of reach. She slumped down and sat again, back pressed to the counter behind her. She grabbed the end of her tail and pulled it into her lap, her little hands wringing it as she panted.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya”, Rocket repeated. “It’s okay,” he said softly, moving closer by an inch. “You’re gonna hurt your tail if you keep doing that. C’mon, come here.” He extended a hand toward her.

She let go of her tail but made no move towards him.

“Humans lie.”

He sighed again as he pulled his hand back, his shoulders slumping and tail drooping, “He did.” 89P13-15 knew exactly who Rocket meant. “But not all of them are like that. And besides, do I look like a humie to you?”

“Humie?”

“Human.”

“Oh.” She whimpered, “No. You look like me. Just bigger.”

“He did to me what he did to you, kid. The number on your chest…” he moved closer, lowering his head and shoulders a little more to meet her eyes easier, “that’s my number. At least, the first part. Are there any more like us, kid?”

89P13-15 sniffed and hung her head. “There were… before Sister and me.”

“Sister? Is she here too?”

“No,” her voice warbled as she sniffed again and started crying, her little hands coming up to rub away the tears as they came pouring out of her eyes. Sire always got mad whenever her and Sister had cried.

“Aww, kid. C’mere.”

She shook her head. “G-got t-to st-stop. Cr-crying is b-bad. Sire h-hates i-it,” she hiccupped, trying to control herself. The memory of Sire screaming at her the last time she’d cried only made the tears come faster, blurring her vision. “I-I’m s-sorry. I c-can’t st-stop.”

A hand the same as hers, but larger, rested on the top of her head, between her ears. 89P13-15 flinched, but Rocket didn’t move his hand away from her. Instead, he ran his hand over the top of her head as she cried. His voice broke a little, “It’s gonna be okay. You’re safe, I promise.”

Then her traitorous stomach rumbled again.

Chapter Text

“When was the last time you ate, kid?” Rocket asked, pulling his hand back from the top of her head.

“I-I c-can’t r-remember.”

“Well, we can do something about that.”

89P13-15 shook her head, hard.

Rocket moved slowly and lowered himself to sit beside her, leaving a small amount of space between them.

89P13-15 flinched. She couldn’t help but notice that he left room enough for her to get past him. But if I do run, I’ll end up right in the middle of the others.

“Gotta name? Mine’s Rocket.”

“89P13-15,” she answered automatically, just as she’d always been expected to.

This time, it was Rocket who flinched. “That’s a number, kid. It ain’t a name. What did Sister call you?”

“Sister.”

He gave her a look, one that 89P13-15 didn’t quite understand. He’s not angry, but… Is it exasperation? That sounds like the right word. But that didn’t feel right either.

Rocket looked up briefly before turning his attention back to her, “Your names were Sister and Sister?”

Without quite realizing what she was doing, 89P13-15 gave Rocket the same look he’d just given her. “No. Sister is a name for a sibling that is a girl. Only Sister can…” she gulped and blinked, trying to stop more tears. “Only Sister could call me that,” she finished with a whisper.

“Well, we’ll just have to find something to call you. I’m not gonna keep calling you ‘kid’.”

89P13-15 started to ask why a name was so important when she already had her number, but her grumbling stomach interrupted her again. Louder this time. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to stifle the noise.

Rocket watched the little raccoon beside him as she hugged her middle. He couldn’t help but think that the poor kid had probably gone through exactly what he had. That thought made his heart break.

There were some differences, though. She was younger than Rocket had been when he’d escaped the High Evolutionary, but not as young as the wobbly raccoon… kits, as Quill had called them. And her cybernetics were more refined than Rocket’s had been during his time with that bastard.

But the hollowness in her eyes… That was something Rocket had seen many times in the mirror since his escape from the bastard. Only since Yondu’s funeral had that hollow feeling started being easier to deal with, but it had still clung to him. It wasn’t until after that last moment with Lylla, when he’d thought he was dead too, that he’d finally begun to believe that he could shake it.

The bastard probably made her watch when he killed her sister. Instinctively he wanted to reach out to the kid again, but he stopped himself. Doing that again would only scare her. Any act of kindness would feel like a trap to her, just like it had to him before the older Groot had started following him around.

Her stomach rumbled again.

Looking up, Rocket saw the corner of one of the gray packets that the food supplies were stored in peaking over the edge of the counter. Ignoring the littler raccoon’s staring, he stood and reached up to grab the packet and then sat back down in the same spot beside her, his tail between them. Reading the label, he opened the packet and grabbed one of the chips inside. Chips are good. Nice and bland. The High Evolutionary hadn’t cared about what he’d fed his ‘subjects’ just as long as they received the proper nutrients to continue to be useful to him, so her stomach probably wouldn’t be able to handle anything other than the blandest of foods for a while at least. Rocket grimaced when he remembered how sick he’d been to his to his stomach after the first meal he’d eaten at the start of his freedom.

Without saying anything, Rocket offered her the chip.

89P13-15 stared at Rocket and the thing he held out to her.

“It’s food. See?” Rocket popped the thing into his mouth. He reached into the bag again and offered her another one.

The gray packets had food in them? If Sire were here, he’d be so mad at her for being so stupid. She should have known that the gray packets she’d found last night contained food. 89P13-15 sniffed, one little hand coming up to rub more tears from her eyes.

“Aw hell, kid,” Rocket sighed. “I wasn’t trying to upset ya.”

“N-no,” she sniffed again. “I s-saw the p-packets l-last n-night. I c-couldn’t r-read th-them. S-sire s-said-“

“He’s gone, kid. And it’s not your fault you couldn’t read these.”

“B-but I-I c-can r-read, th-that’s wh-what’s wr-wrong!” Her little eyes went wide at her outburst, and she clasped both hands to her mouth. She looked at him, scared he’d be mad.

But he wasn’t. And that scared 89P13-15 more.

“Kid, just ‘cause you can read in one language doesn’t mean you should magically be able to read everything without some kind of translator. There’s more than one type of writing in the galaxy. It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

“I-I d-didn’t?”

“Nope. Here, try this.” He offered her the piece of food again.

Very slowly she reached out and took the food, being very careful not to touch him. Sire had hated being touched if he didn’t… initiate, that’s the word… if he didn’t initiate the contact.

She brought the food closer to her face, holding it with both hands. She sniffed it, earning a chuckle from Rocket. She looked at him. “What is this?”

“A potato chip. It’s from Earth, like you and me.”

Doesn’t he mean Counter-Earth? “Potato chip,” she echoed with a serious tone, looking to Rocket to make sure she’d said it right.

He nodded.

89P13-15 couldn’t help herself. She was starving and she very badly wanted to eat this potato chip, but her curiosity had always gotten the best of her. “A potato chip is a chip of a potato. But what’s a potato?”

“Food, kid. It’s food,” Rocket responded with an eye roll. “Just take a bite. If you like it, you can have the rest.” Rocket set the packet of potato chips between her and his tail.

She wanted to keep asking questions, but she didn’t want to make him mad. True, Rocket had not gotten mad once since she’d fallen out of the air duct, but 89P13-15 was scared he was like Sire. It took a lot to make Sire mad, but when he did get mad… She shuddered and slowly took the smallest bite she’d ever taken in her life.

It was very good. So good that she immediately shoved the rest of it into her mouth and choked.

“Easy, kid!” Rocket thumped her back and she coughed the chip onto the floor in front of her. She started to look at Rocket, afraid that he was going to be mad at her.

“Is she okay?” said the higher pitched woman’s voice. From right over them.

Without thinking 89P13-15 dove toward Rocket, smashing the package of potato chips under her little feet. She nearly treaded on Rocket's tail as she tried to hide in his side from the strange woman with antennae that was peering over the top of the bar at them.

Rocket, seemingly shocked at the way she was clinging to him, held both arms up as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Jeez, Mantis, trying to give us both heart attacks or somethin’?”

89P13-15 froze as she realized what exactly she’d done. Rocket, still somewhat surprised, met her wide-eyed gaze.

“But Rocket, we heard her choking and we wanted to make sure she was okay!”

“I am Groot,” came the plant man’s voice, and his head appeared over the top of the bar too.

89P13-15 squealed and clung to Rocket tighter, burying her face in his shirt.

“She’s not gonna be okay if you guys keep freakin’ her out,” Rocket turned his attention to them as he responded evenly, but 89P13-15 could tell he was irritated at the two.

“I really am sorry, Rocket.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket huffed, “Well, since you’re already over here, grab something bland for her to eat.”

“I am Groot.”

“Probably a good idea, Groot.”

Both nodded and started to back away.

“And some water too, Mantis,” Rocket added.

89P13-15 couldn’t move. She was still pressed close to him, her little fingers still gripping his shirt tightly. She was certain she’d made him mad, but instead of letting go she gripped his shirt tighter.

Rocket did not get mad. He lowered his arms and wrapped his right one around her, hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Mantis and Groot aren’t gonna hurt ya. Are you okay?”

She pulled her head back a little and nodded with a little cough. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” Rocket answered as he used his other hand to move the now smashed packet of potato chips out from under her and to pick up the chip she’d choked on. “Accidents happen, kid. You didn’t mean to do it.”

89P13-15 nodded but she couldn’t stop being scared. Her little heart was pounding so hard that she was sure Rocket could feel it.

Apparently, he could. “It really is okay, kid.”

“You’re not m-mad at m-me?”

“No, I’m not mad.” Comprehension dawned on Rocket’s face. He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “I’m not like Him, kid. No one here is.”

“How can anyone get mad at someone who is so cute?”

89P13-15 squeaked and hid her face in Rocket’s shirt again.

Mantis, by herself this time, giggled as she knelt by Rocket’s other side. “Rocket, it might be a good idea if I-“

“Not right now, Mantis. You do that now and she’ll never trust us.”

“But-“

89P13-15 moved her face just enough so that she could peek at the woman.

“Just…” Rocket sighed, “Trust me on this Mantis.”

“Okay. But only if you’re absolutely sure.”

“I am.” Rocket nodded to the food packet Mantis was holding, “Mind opening that? My hands are kinda full right now,” he stated, patting 89P13-15’s shoulder gently.

Mantis nodded and opened the packet, pulling out a strange light-brown oval thing that she put in Rocket’s free hand.

Rocket then offered the oval thing to 89P13-15. It was almost as big as her head.

“It’s bread.”

“Bread?” 89P13-15 asked, slowly letting go of his shirt to take the oval thing from him.

“Mm-hmm. Small bites, don’t wanna have you choke on me again.”

Mantis set a bottle of something next to Rocket. “If you need us, we’re still right here.”

Rocket nodded but didn’t take his attention from 89P13-15. “Thanks.”

89P13-15 waited until Mantis left before she sniffed the bread in her hands. Slowly, she took a small bite just as Rocket had instructed, chewing carefully to make sure she didn’t choke. “It’s dry,” she stated as soon as she’d swallowed.

Rocket picked up the container that Mantis had also brought. “This is just water, but it’ll help.”

89P13-15 nodded and sat right beside Rocket, her side pressed against his, and put the bread in her lap so that she could take the water from him.

Several minutes passed as 89P13-15 ate. Mantis, Groot, and the others that Rocket had walked into the building with were still in the main area of the room, still talking quietly, but 89P13-15 couldn’t focus on them. Her stomach was getting full. The bread was half-eaten, the water half drunk, but she couldn’t eat or drink any more of it. She yawned and leaned into Rocket. She was getting sleepy, and her eyes were getting heavy.

She really had tried to stay awake.

Rocket watched the kid pass out, much like Groot used to do when he’d been little. Her little head sunk, her little hands, still holding the bread, fell to her lap. She slowly fell sideways until she was completely leaning against him as her eyes finally closed and her breathing slowed.

Poor kid.

“Everything alright?” came Drax’s voice from the open end of the bar. The big idiot wasn’t even attempting to be quiet.

Rocket rolled his eyes. “What is with you guys today?” he asked in an irritated whisper. “You determined to scare the kid, or what?”

Drax, as usual, ignored him, “Looks like she trusts you.”

Rocket snorted almost too loudly, glancing quickly at the littler raccoon to make sure he hadn’t disturbed her. She hadn’t even flinched. “I don’t think so, Drax. More like she’s worn out.”

Drax nodded, picking up the food packets, water bottle, and what was left of the bread. “You could bring her out to the table.”

“And have her completely freak out when she wakes up in the middle of you loud asses? No thanks.”

“Mantis told us how she reacted to her and Groot, I doubt she will… freak out, like you say. But, just in case, we can be quiet, Rocket.”

“Maybe everyone else can, but you? Ha!”

Drax just looked at him sadly, “I do know how to behave when a child is sleeping, Rocket.”

Rocket sighed, feeling guilty. He’d been so on edge since the kid had fallen out of the airduct, that he’d momentarily forgotten about Drax’s lost family. “You’re right. But I just don’t think it’s a good idea to move her right now.”

“As long as you do it slowly, she should be okay.”

Rocket gave him a look. When Groot had been this little, this had never been a concern. It didn’t matter how much they’d woken the sapling up, Groot would just pass right back out.

Drax meet his gaze, “When Kamaria was very little, she would fall asleep almost anywhere. Ovette and I would have to move her to her bed quite regularly. Just try. I doubt she’ll wake up easily right now. She hasn’t stirred once the whole time we’ve been talking.”

“If you say so.”

Slowly, Rocket pulled the kid into his lap. She didn’t flinch, so, he decided to risk it. He slowly stood, holding her in his arms. She was a little more solid than Groot had been at this size, and so deeply asleep that she was completely limp.

Drax smiled, “See? I was right.”

Rocket rolled his eyes again, adjusting his hold on the kid so that her head rested on his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let it get to your head, moron.”

He walked past Drax, holding the kid with one arm so that he could climb back into his chair.

Nebula wordlessly grabbed his now cold plate and went to warm it up for him. The others were staring at him and the kid, all of them being unnaturally quiet. This is weird.

Quill gave him a sad look. “She okay?”

“Yeah, I think. Just exhausted. I don’t think she’s slept at all since the Areta went down.”

“Well,” Mantis spoke up from her seat across from him, “this is a new place to her. I remember how hard it was for me to sleep the first night after Ego was beaten.”

Rocket nodded, “That, and I think she keeps thinkin' we’re gonna react to her like the High Evolutionary did.” He saw the way they all tensed. “Guys?”

Nebula set his now warmed plate of food in front of him. “It’s too bad I didn't take the opportunity to strangle that bastard,” she stated murderously as she sat beside him.

Quill held up his glass toward her, anger in his eyes. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he agreed.

“I am Groot,” Groot added, voice harsher than Rocket had ever heard it.

Mantis nodded, agreeing with Groot.

“Guys, it’s over and done with. He’s locked up for good. She’ll be fine.”

Drax resumed his seat, “And so will you.”

Rocket felt warmth in his chest, but he rolled his eyes at them. His family. “You really are a bunch of idiots.”

Chapter Text

89P13-15 woke with a start.

She was alone in a room she didn’t recognize, on top of something soft. She looked around, seeing that the room was smaller than the building where she’d met Rocket and the others. There was some kind of small desk by the bed with a lit lamp on it, a door to what looked like a smaller room off to the side, what looked like a closet, a door that might have led deeper into the building, and a door that looked like it led outside.

She tried to push herself up, but struggled as the soft surface gave a little under her. It felt weird and she didn’t like it. Not at all. It took her a moment, but she was finally able to slide down off the soft surface. She took a few steps and looked back. The soft surface seemed to be supported by some kind of frame and looked to be a little longer than Rocket was tall.

The whole room smelled like Rocket, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Rocket?” she whispered.

No answer.

“Rocket?” she called out again, a little louder, her voice shaking.

She looked up, out the window. It was getting dark outside. How long was I asleep?

There was noise coming from outside that sounded like music, but it wasn’t like anything that she’d ever heard Sire play in the upper decks of the Areta.

What is that?

89P13-15 pulled herself up onto the desk thing, knocking over several items onto the floor. Including what looked like a cobbled together key card to the cages back on Sire’s ship. She froze as the items clattered to the floor, breathing hard. No one snapped, no one yelled. But Rocket will when he sees this.

The music increased in volume, snapping 89P13-15 out of her panic. She moved closer to the window, putting her little hands on the glass. What she saw confused her.

On the steps leading down to the street were two of the normal baby animals that looked like her. Past that, there were so many people out in the streets moving around in weird movements that made no sense to 89P13-15. Even Rocket and Groot, what Rocket had called the plant-man, were in the middle of it. Groot was smiling and Rocket seemed like he was enjoying himself. Everyone out there looked like they were enjoying themselves.

At least Groot and Rocket’s movements somewhat matched the music.

The big gray man with the red markings was also moving too, but he was off. The blue woman was out there too. The human man and the woman with the antennae were nowhere in sight.

Sire listened to music every time Sister and 89P13-15 were brought above for Sister to work on the mathematical equations Sire had prepared for her. Never once had he ever reacted to that music like all the people she was watching now. Looking at everyone outside made her think that maybe Sire didn’t enjoy the music he’d listen to as much as he had stated. If he had enjoyed it, wouldn’t he have done then what they’re doing now? It was something to think about.

89P13-15 sat at the window and pulled the end of her tail into her lap, running her fingers through the striped fur as she watched them. The music was loud enough now that she could hear most of the words through the glass. Something about the ‘dog days are over’. What are ‘dog days’?

By the way everyone outside is moving, the dog days being over is a good thing. Maybe?

The music and the words changed and everyone outside kept making those weird movements. The change in music and words happened several times, but 89P13-15 lost count.

She was still trying to figure out what she was seeing when she realized that the music had stopped. She’d also lost sight of Rocket and Groot.

The door to outside opened and she squeaked, diving off the desk. She stumbled when she hit the floor, landing on all fours, and dove under the frame for the soft surface she’d been sleeping on. She huddled up against the wall, waiting for the yelling to start.

Rocket sighed as the kid took off under his bed. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but she’d looked right past him as he’d come up the stairs. She’d been watching everyone for a while.

Also, everything he had set on his desk was strewn on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” the kid whispered in a shaky voice from under the bed as Rocket bent to pick up the key card.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Rocket responded almost automatically.

“But I knocked everything down.”

Rocket looked up at her. She’d crawled forward enough that her head stuck out from under the bed. Her little eyes were wide with fear.

Still kneeling, Rocket grabbed a few other items, “Nothing’s broken. And, even if somethin’ did break, it can be fixed or replaced. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” He stood, reverently placing the key card at the center of his desk. He took the Zune out of his pocket and placed it on its charge port, then laid out the other items he’d grabbed.

She sniffed, “No.” Very carefully, she crawled out from under the bed and stood, walking slowly to him. She picked up the last few items and handed them to him, still being careful not to touch him. “I am very sorry, Rocket.”

“Nothing broken and you’re okay. Nothing to be sorry for. Just try to be more careful.”

She looked… lost.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I don’t know. It’s too soft.”

“What’s too soft?”

“The thing I was sleeping on. It’s too soft.” She looked up at him and wrung her hands together, looking worried. “I’m not supposed to complain. Sire says… said that it’s unbecoming.”

Rocket raised his brows. That was another difference. The kid already spoke better than Rocket ever had at that age. Granted Rocket could now speak as well as the kid, he just chose not to. But still…

“If you don’t like something, you can speak up. That ain’t really complaining.”

“It’s not?”

“Nah,” Rocket answered, removing his boots and then slipping out of his shirt. He moved to grab a pair of sleep pants out of his closet, then headed to the bathroom. He and the kid may have both been covered with fur, but there was no way he was going to change in front of her. Speaking of which, he needed to look into getting her some clothes too.

“Do those hurt?”

He turned back to the kid, “Does what hurt?”

He was surprised to see that the kid had followed him, at least for a few steps. Still keeping her distance. She was wringing her little hands again. “I don’t have those, the nodes on your back. My cybernetics are more internal. Do they hurt?”

“No, they don’t.”

“Oh.”

“You’re not tryin’ to tell me that you’re in pain, are you?” Please don’t be, kid.

“No.”

Rocket sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief and turned again.

“What are you doing?”

He looked over his shoulder, “Going to change. I’ll be right back out.”

“Promise?” the kid asked, sounding worried. Almost as if she was scared that he was going to leave her. That made him pause. She’d practically thrown herself at him earlier when Mantis and Groot had scared her, then acted scared to touch him when she’d helped pick up his stuff that she’d knocked over. Now she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. Poor kid didn’t seem to know what to do any more than he did.

He sighed, “I promise, kid. Besides, there ain’t another way out from the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

Not knowing what else to say, Rocket walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He set the pajama pants down on the toilet top and gripped the edges of the sink.

This was getting too raw for him. The way the kid looked at him when she asked her questions, silently asking for his permission on how she should act… It reminded him too much of himself when he’d been that age and the High Evolutionary had been, for the lack of a better word, the only god he’d ever known.

She looks at me the same way I used to look at him. Her gaze had that same awful mixture of absolute awe and pure fear.

That thought hurt.

I’ve got to break her of that. I have to.

I can’t do this, he thought. A part of him thought that it might be better to let Drax take over caring for the kid. Another, bigger, part told him that, although the moron knew how to care for children, he wouldn’t be able to help this kid. Not like Rocket himself could.

The Star Children had been experiments too and Drax had done great with them so far. However, from what Rocket had been able to gather, those children hadn’t gone through near as much as he and the kid had gone through. Those kids seemed to have been grown in the High Evolutionary’s evolution chambers. They’d suffered pain, and a lot of it he was certain, but…

The poor kid in his room had been taken apart and put back together just like he’d been and the High Evolutionary was not one to use anesthetics on his ‘experiments’. Rocket was also certain that the sick bastard had killed her only friend, her only family, right in front of her. Just like he’d done to Rocket.

Another, smaller, part whispered that this was all his fault. That the kid had been put through all this because of him. There was only one reason why the High Evolutionary would bother to make more ‘experiments’ like Rocket. He still wanted to figure out why I was smarter than him. He still wanted my brain, so he settled for making someone just like me. Rocket chuckled without humor. With some improvements, of course, he thought darkly.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and noticed his fur was looking just a bit greasy. A hot shower sounded nice right now. Maybe it would give him enough time to organize his thoughts.

Unbidden, Lylla's last words popped into his head. My beloved raccoon. The story has been yours all along. You just didn't know it. Lylla hadn't believed that what had happened to her and the others had been his fault. He took comfort in the fact that she wouldn't believe what had happened to this kid was his fault either.

It was Him, not me. He did this.

Rocket’s been in there for a while. There was the sound of running water behind the door, but not like the faucets 89P13-15 was used to hearing on the Areta. What’s going on?

She stood in the middle of the room exactly where he’d left her, waiting. A few more minutes passed and she started to get worried. She leaned forward a little, then took one hesitant step. Then another. Before she knew it she was standing in front of the door Rocket had closed behind himself, listening. The weird sound of the running water was still there but there was also another sound. Rocket was humming. It wasn’t the same as any of the music everyone outside had been listening to earlier but it still caught her attention.

She put her little hands on the door in much the same way as she’d put them on the glass of the window earlier. Rocket kept humming, shifting… melodies, that’s the word… melodies every few minutes. Then the water shut off and he kept humming.

He likes music too but not in the same way as Sire. Sire made us be quiet to listen to music and he never hummed like Rocket. He never listened to music that had words and he never made those weird movements Rocket and Groot and everyone else were making either. The more 89P13-15 tried to figure it out, the more confused she became.

The bathroom door opened and 89P13-15 tumbled forward, landing on her chin with a whimper.

“Kid, you okay?” Rocket, now dressed in the softer looking pants he’d carried into the bathroom and his fur a little wet, bent down to help her up.

89P13-15 flinched at his touch but allowed him to help her up. She pulled out of his grasp once she was standing and moved back a pace, watching him carefully.

Rocket stood in the doorway, watching her, “What were you doing by the door anyway?”

“You were in there a long time. The water sounded weird.”

“I was taking a shower, kid.”

“Shower?”

“Yeah, to get clean. It’s a lot better than those awful baths the Recorders used to give.”

That horrible memory made 89P13-15 flinch. There had been a few times that Sister and she had believed that the Recorders had actually forgotten that they’d needed to breathe. The memory of water and soap going up her nose and down her throat made her shiver. She remembered how mad they would get when she and Sister had their coughing fits afterword. And if they were still coughing when Sire saw them…

Rocket made to put his hand on her shoulder as if to comfort her, but she stepped back another pace. Although she’d clung to him earlier, that had been without his permission. He was bound to get mad if she got comfortable with touching him even if he was the one initiating the contact now. He sighed and pulled his hand back, “C’mon, it’s about time to go to bed. You only slept about an hour.”

“Bed?”

“The soft thing you were on.”

She made a face. She really didn’t like that bed.

Something about her expression must have been funny to him because he chuckled. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”

Rocket chuckled again at the look on the kid’s face. She didn’t seem convinced at all. He offered his hand to her again, but she just looked at it before looking back up at him. “I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he said, for what felt like the millionth time.

“Sire said things like that frequently. And then he hurt us.” The kid looked down at her feet, “He said that it wasn’t him that hurt us, that Sister and I did it to ourselves by not being smart enough.” He really didn’t like what that implied. She looked back up to him, not quite meeting his eyes as if she was remembering something horrible. Which she probably is. She was wringing her hands again, “But he was lying. Wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he was.”

The kid just stood there, looking like her whole world was gone. Which it was, in a sense. Everything she’d ever known had been based on lies and the only person she’d ever cared for was dead. Rocket remembered that feeling, how it had nearly torn him apart.

The difference was, he’d been alone.

The kid had him. And he didn’t quite know what to make of that. He had no clue what to do.

Almost unbidden, the memory came to him of how Lylla had treated him after his first surgery. He’d been absolutely terrified and in so much pain, but she’d been so kind and hadn’t once lost patience with him. One step at a time. One moment, then the next. That’s how Lylla had calmed him. How she and Teefs and Floor had helped him.

That was how the older Groot had helped him, even though he hadn’t realized it until now.

He took a breath and stepped slowly towards the kid. She went to move out of his way, but he paused, “It really is okay, kid,” he said softly, trying to channel Lylla’s soothing tone as much as he could. It didn’t feel right at all to him, but the kid seemed to be calming down again. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

She sniffed but didn’t move away again when he knelt in front of her. He offered his hands to her and she just stared at him again, as if she was waiting for him to lose control of his temper.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Slowly, still watching him closely for his reaction to her, the kid put her little hands into his. He kept his hands open, somehow knowing that clasping her hands in his would just scare her. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I ain’t gonna get mad at you.”

“Ain’t isn’t a word,” the kid responded with a little sniffle.

He laughed softly, keeping his voice down to not scare her, “I’ve been sayin’ ‘ain’t’ this whole time, kid.”

She didn’t respond for a while. Then, in the littlest voice he’d ever heard, she said, “Promise?” She wasn’t talking about the word ‘ain’t’.

“I promise, kid. And as long as I’m around I ain’t gonna let anyone else hurt you. Okay?”

She nodded slowly, looking at their hands. Rocket knew she didn’t quite believe him, but he figured that the fact that she wasn’t trying to back away from him was a start.

There was a little less fear in her eyes when she looked back up at him. Her little fingers curled around his, holding on for dear life.

Chapter Text

The kid was still watching him carefully. Rocket smiled a little, trying to look reassuring. He was pretty sure he was just grimacing at her, but she didn’t flinch.

She didn’t smile back either.

He sighed, “C’mon, let’s see what we can do about the bed.”

“No matter what you do to it, it’s still going to be too soft,” the kid responded softly, letting go of his hands as he stood up. She looked worried, scared that she’d spoken out of turn again.

“Then we just won’t worry about it.”

The kid cocked her little head to the side, confusion on her face as he walked past her to the bed.

“Rocket?” she asked tentatively.

“Hmmm?” he responded as he grabbed the top blanket and his pillow.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away as he spread the blanket on the floor beside the bed. One step at a time, he reminded himself. He placed the pillow down at one edge of the blanket, then turned back to the kid as he sat, “You coming?”

Looking uncertain, the kid just stood there. Wringing her hands again.

“Kid?”

“I have to use the toilet,” she stated, so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.

“Oh.” Oh. “Umm, they did teach you how to use a toilet, right?” Please say yes, please. The last thing he wanted to do was start toilet training, that had been an absolute nightmare with Groot. He’d do it again with this kid if he had to, but…

“Yes,” she responded simply, causing Rocket to release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Okay, it’s in the bathroom,” Rocket said, relief in his voice as he nodded to the door.

“Where the ‘shower’ is?”

“Yep. The door controls should be easy for you to reach.”

The kid nodded, then turned. When she got to the door she reached up and hit the same button he had earlier to open the door. Kid learns fast.

The door closed behind her and Rocket finished smoothing out the blanket as he waited for her.

When the door opened again, the kid called to him, “Rocket?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t reach the sink.” Damn it, I didn’t think about that.

“Comin’, kid.”

Making sure not to make any sudden movements, Rocket got up and walked over to the kid. “I don’t have anything for you to stand on. I’ll have to pick you up. Are you okay with that?”

She nodded, trembling a little, “Okay.”

Rocket picked her up, holding her at the edge of the sink as she quickly washed her little hands. She trembled the entire time. When she was finished, he set her down and handed her a towel.

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“C’mon then.” He led the way back to the blanket and sat back down.

Slowly she followed and stepped carefully onto the blanket.

“Not too soft?” he asked, watching her closely.

She shook her head, “No, sir.” Sir? That’s new.

“You don’t have to call me that, kid. Rocket will do.”

“Okay… Rocket.” She dropped to all fours, then curled into a ball just out of his reach, her little tail covering her nose. It took a while but her breathing eventually evened out.

Rocket moved a little closer and put one hand on top of her head. She didn’t flinch.

Out like a light, just like earlier.

He lay down on his side, head on his pillow. No sense in turning off the lamp. The High Evolutionary never bothered to turn off all the lights in the animal wing of the Areta anyway. Besides, Rocket didn’t want the kid to wake up and think she was alone in the dark.

Again, Sister had been unable to figure out the faulty evolution chamber. Again, Sire had been beyond furious. Instead of taking his anger out on her, he turned and kicked 89P13-15 with enough force to throw her little body against the wall behind her. 89P13-15 grunted as she smacked into the wall and slid down to it’s base.

“Sister!” cried the white-furred 89P13-14.

As 89P13-15 slumped on the ground, she looked at Sister with eyes wide with fear.

Sister seemed frozen in place. Never before had she called 89P13-15 that in front of Sire, both of them somehow knowing that doing so would only infuriate him. Tears filled Sister’s eyes and 89P13-15 knew that she wanted to run to 89P13-15, to make sure she was okay, but Sire turned on Sister. So much fury filled his eyes that he looked inhuman, almost demonic.

“You caused that, P13-14,” he growled. “Now, if you don’t want that to happen again, I suggest you try harder.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it!” Sister cried, red eyes squeezing shut to hold back fresh tears.

Sire turned to look at 89P13-15, then to one of the two Recorders that had been waiting to the side. “Take P13-15 back to the cages. It looks like P13-14 might need more work.”

89P13-15 felt terror overwhelm her. She knew what ‘more work’ meant. More surgery. He’s going to hurt Sister more! She wanted to yell, to scream, but she still couldn’t catch her breath. Nothing seemed broken, but that kick had been hard.

“No, please no!” Sister cried hysterically. “I’ll b-be g-good, I p-promise! I’ll b-be g-good!”

“Wah, wah, wah!” Sire mocked, swooping down and grabbing Sister by the side of her face with one hand, lifting her off her feet. “You’re not good enough now! P13 knew what was wrong with the chamber the moment he looked at it!”

Sister sniffed, begging quietly now, “P-please-“

“Any more out of you, and your useless Sister goes straight to the furnace. I should have thrown her in there long ago, I don’t need a subject proficient in reading,” he scoffed. “I only keep her around so that you’ll remember your place. Isn’t that right, P13-14?”

Sister sniffed, looked at 89P13-15, then back at Sire. “Yes sir,” she responded in a dead voice.

“There’s a good girl,” Sire answered softly, almost affectionately as he set Sister back down. He was still holding her by the face.

“No!” 89P13-15 finally cried. “No!” She’d finally been able to force herself to stand and moved to take a step, but the Recorder grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. She dangled in front of him, kicking and screaming as the Recorder walked out of the room with her. The doors shut behind him, locking Sister in the evolution chamber room with Sire and the other Recorder.

“No! No, no, no, no!” she screeched. The Recorder didn’t react as he carried her back to her cage.

“No!” someone screeched.

Rocket woke with a start, looking around wildly for a moment before he realized what was going on. He’d been reaching for the gun he kept strapped to the underside of his desk when he finally saw the kid. She was still laying in the same spot but now she was thrashing around, mumbling, and screeching in her sleep.

“Kid? Kid, wake up.” Rocket moved closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t respond but only struggled more.

He hesitated, not quite knowing what do. Oh, what the hell. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the kid and pulled her into his lap, holding her close to his chest. “It’s okay,” he mumbled over and over again.

The kid finally woke up, screeching as she tried to get out of his grasp, not quite realizing where she was. Her little claws dug into his arms and chest as she twisted and fought.

“It’s okay, kid. I got ya. You’re okay,” he mumbled repeatedly.

The kid finally went still. “Rocket?” she asked, as if she’d just realized that it was him holding her.

“Yeah, kid. It’s me.”

“Can you let go of me, please?” Rocket did not like how dead the kid’s voice sounded.

“Sure.”

She pulled away from him and walked back to the same spot where she’d been sleeping, laying down in much the same way she had earlier, nose tucked under her tail. But she didn’t go to sleep.

She sniffed and Rocket knew the poor kid was crying and trying to hide it.

He sighed, not knowing what else to do. His eyes rested on the clock on the desk. They’d only been asleep for forty-five minutes, tops.

Then his eyes caught the Zune. Whenever Quill had been upset, he’d listen to his Walkman and the tapes his mother had given him. After the Walkman had been destroyed by Ego, Quill had always had the Zune playing. Rocket himself had kept the Zune constantly playing during the entire five years of The Blip and after, when he’d started pilfering it from Quill.

Maybe a nice quiet song would give the kid something to think about other than her nightmares and bad memories. Singing always seemed to help distract Rocket.

He got up and, leaving the Zune on its charge port, turned it on. He froze, realizing he had no idea what he should play. Whatever it is, I need to make sure the volume’s down. We want background music. He did not want to wake Nebula who stayed in the room across the hall.

Shrugging, he hit the shuffle button and Glen Campbell’s Southern Nights started playing softly. Nodding to himself, Rocket sat back down on the blanket and leaned back against the bed. I’m probably not going to get any more sleep tonight. Before he knew it he was singing and humming softly to the words as he closed his eyes.

Nothing happened at first and he was starting to think it wasn’t working.

Then he heard some shuffling.

“Wh-what is th-that?” came the kid’s little voice, so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“Hmmm?”

“What are you d-doing?” Her voice was a little stronger, almost sounding like she was curious now.

“Singing,” he answered, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Singing?” she asked, still just above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

“What is singing?”

He opened his eyes and met her curious gaze. She was sitting up now, watching him intently. He was shocked that the kid didn’t know what singing was until it struck him that the High Evolutionary had never listened to music with any singing in it. Dancing, too, had definitely not been encouraged. That had been so long ago for him that he’d almost completely forgotten about that part.

Shocked disbelief crossed Rocket’s face for the briefest of moments and 89P13-15 cowered down, afraid that she’d made another mistake.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, kid.” Rocket didn’t wait for her to respond, he kept going, “Singing is words to music. Sometimes humming too.”

“Words and humming that blend with a melody?” 89P13-15 asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Mmhmm,” Rocket answered, closing his eyes again as he kept humming.

“We are listening to singing and you are singing,” 89P13-15 stated simply, trying to understand. It made no sense to her.

“It’s called a song, kid. We’re listening to a song.” Rocket was gentle in his responses but 89P13-15 couldn’t help but think that eventually he was about to get irritated with her… inability, that’s the word… inability to understand.

She had to figure this out and fast before she made him mad. Yes, he’d promised that he wouldn’t get mad at her but still…

“So a song is words and humming to a specific melody, and singing is actually-“ she panicked, unable to find the right words to describe what she wanted to say.

Rocket chuckled, his eyes open now, watching her, “It’s not rocket science, kid.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said meekly, fear leaking out in her voice. “I know what I want to say, I just-“ she yawned hugely and rubbed at her little eyes. “I don’t-“ she yawned again.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Rocket answered sincerely. “You’re tired and that makes it hard to think.” He scoffed, “Heck, I’m tired and I spent most of the past several days in a frickin’ coma.”

89P13-15 stared at him, fear in her wide eyes, “You were in a coma?”

“I’m okay now, kid.”

Memories of her dream about Sister came back to the front of 89P13-15’s mind. That day had been one of the most horrible days of her life. The night that had followed had been even worse. And then there was the following morning, right before she’d been rescued and the Areta had went down…

89P13-15 lunged at Rocket without thinking. She slammed into him hard enough to make him grunt and she clung to him tightly.

She’d already lost Sister. Even though she hadn't known Rocket very long and still wasn’t completely sure about him just yet, she was certain of one thing.

She didn’t want to watch him die too.

Completely taken by surprise when the kid jumped on him, Rocket sat with his arms lifted slightly in the much the same way as he had earlier when she had thrown herself at him to get away from Mantis and Groot. Remembering how she’d just reacted to being held, he slowly lowered his arms and held her as loosely as he could. The kid was full on shaking and he had no idea what had caused any of this.

“Kid?”

“Don’t die,” she whispered, her little voice shaking.

“Is that what this is about? Kid, I said I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Kid, look at me.”

She shook her head, burying her face in his neck.

Rocket sighed, “C’mon now. Look at me for just a sec. Please?”

Sniffling, she pulled back, big fat tears running down both sides of her face.

He sighed again and tried to give her the most comforting look he could, “You can see that I’m okay, right?” Where is this coming from?

“Y-yes,” she answered, voice shaking. “B-but just b-because s-someone l-looks okay d-doesn’t m-mean th-that they’re r-really o-okay.” That bastard must have done something really bad to her Sister. I’m almost regretting not killing him.

“That’s true, sometimes,” Rocket conceded. “But not now.”

“P-promise?”

“I already did, but sure.”

She stayed absolutely still and watched him closely. Probably trying to decide if she’s gonna believe me or not. As the kid stared at him, Rocket realized the song had changed and he had to chuckle. O-o-h Child by The Five Stairsteps.

“H-how is this f-funny?” she asked meekly, her voice still shaking a little.

He shook his head, “It’s not. I was laughing at the song.”

“Is it supposed to be f-funny?”

“No, just… It’s just happens to be a good song for right now.”

The tears had almost stopped and she gave him a look, scrunching up her little black nose, “If you say so.” She curled back up against him, her head under his chin. “Rocket?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know this song?”

“I do,” he said, thinking about the first time he’d heard this particular song. It had been right after the older Groot had sacrificed himself for them, when Quill had tried to rope Gamora into that stupid dance routine to distract Ronan so Rocket and Drax could blast the Kree’s staff to bits and get the Power stone out of reach of his greedy blue fingertips.

“Can you do the singing thing?”

He chuckled, “Sure.”

Softly Rocket hummed along with the song as the kid’s breathing once again evened out and her entire body relaxed. He chuckled again when her tail went limp. The song changed a few more times and he kept humming along until he fell asleep too.

Chapter Text

The chiming of Rocket’s communicator shocked him awake where he was still sitting, leaning against the bed. The kid jerked too, little fingers gripping at him so tightly that she pulled his fur. He flinched and gently tried to pull her fingers loose but only succeeded in making her tighten her grip.

“Kid, that kind of hurts.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered, letting go quickly. “What is that noise? It’s too loud!” she cried out as she reached up and covered both of her little ears.

“It’s just the com.” He rolled his eyes, “Probably Groot calling with something stupid, but I still gotta check.” He waited for the kid to get off his lap. She didn’t move and just stared at him, her little hands still covering her ears.

Rocket sighed again, “Alright.” Using one arm to hold her close, he stood and stretched. His back complained, his legs were sore. He cracked his neck from side to side to get the stiffness out of it. Heck, even the base of my tail hurts. I haven’t slept on the floor for so long that I forgot how uncomfortable it is. Looking at the clock at the desk, he groaned at the time. It was 2:50 in the frickin’ morning. It was so early in the morning that Groot most definitely wouldn’t be up yet. Hell, Rocket normally wouldn’t be up at this god-awful hour either. Only Nebula had ever been crazy enough to be up and about at this hour and that was rare.

He about panicked when he realized the com was lighting up with Quill’s code. That idiot better be okay. And if he was okay, Rocket was gonna murder him.

He activated the com and a square shaped hologram of Quill sitting in the cockpit of a shuttle appeared in front of him, looking perfectly fine. Rocket moved the kid to rest her weight on his hip and fixed Quill with a glare as he pointed an accusatory finger at the man, “I swear, Star-Munch, if you woke me up for no good frickin’ reason…” The kid shivered in his hold and Rocket shifted a little, still unsure how he should go about comforting her.

“Chill dude. I figured you would like to know that I made it.”

“That could have waited until later today, laserbrain! Do you have any idea what time it is? You freaked the poor kid out!” As if in agreement with him, the kid in question tried to bury her head in his shoulder. And why am I the one he singles out to harass?

Quill’s expression told Rocket that the man had most definitely not thought about the kid who’d literally fallen into their lives only the day before. The man’s gaze shifted to the littler raccoon. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Can you forgive me?”

“I’m not your sweetie,” Rocket answered snarkily, knowing full well that Quill hadn’t been talking to him. Quill had rudely woken them both and he was gonna give the man hell for that.

“I wasn’t talking to you, a-hole,” Quill griped. Rocket just gave him a shit-eating grin.

And the kid trembled, gripping his fur tightly again. Rocket looked down at her and saw her little eyes were wide and filled with fear as she looked back and forth at him and Quill. He sighed, “It’s fine, kid. No one’s getting mad.”

“You both sound mad,” she whispered.

Rocket opened his mouth to respond, but Quill beat him to it. “We’re joking, sweetie.”

“Joking? Pretending to be mad is called joking?”

Quill nodded, but looked back at Rocket, “You’re pretty good with her. She wouldn’t even talk to me yesterday.”

“Hmmm, I doubt it. I think it has more to do with the fact that you’re not physically here, numbskull.”

Quill shot him another look, “You know, if I knew you were going to be like this then I wouldn’t have called you. I just thought that my best friend, of all people, would have liked to know that I was okay. Forget I bothered,” Quill griped again, sounding offended.

“Seriously? You called at three in the frickin’ morning!” Quill was right, Rocket had been worried. They both knew it and neither one was gonna say it. Hell, we were all worried. Every time one of us goes off by ourselves there’s trouble.

Quill rolled his eyes, “Let everyone know I made it, ‘kay? I’m about to go knock on my grandpa’s door. Hopefully he still lives in the same place…”

“Sure, Quill. Good luck, man.”

“Thanks, Rocket.” The man reached to turn off his end of the link, but stopped and looked back at the kid, “Rocket’s a great guy. He’s my best friend and he’ll take real good care of you. But can I tell you a secret?”

The kid didn’t answer, but turned her head to the side with a confused look as she met Quill’s gaze. Hell, Rocket was confused too.

“He’s not very good at remembering to take care of himself, especially when it’s time to eat and he’s working on something.” Rocket sputtered, trying to protest, but Quill ignored him. “Can you look out for him, as favor?”

Rocket glared, baring his teeth. Quill smirked. The kid, still staring at the man intently, didn’t answer.

“I’ll owe you a favor when I get back,” Quill prompted, still smirking and still ignoring Rocket’s glare.

“Okay,” the kid said softly.

“Okay, that’s enough ganging up on me,” Rocket griped. “Go meet your grandpa, Quill.”

“Hey Rocket?”

“What now?”

“What I said when you and Groot went off with Thor to Nidavellir-”

“Forget it. That was over five years ago, Quill.”

Quill gave him a look, “It wasn’t five years for me. I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that. I knew you weren’t running. Groot was still just a kid and you were just trying to protect him.”

Rocket pinned his ears back. “Fat lot of good that did me,” he muttered.

“You did what you could, Rocket. Thanks.”

“I hope you didn’t expect me to get all mushy on you, Quill. ‘Cause it ain’t gonna happen.”

Quill rolled his eyes, “Take care, Rocket. Call if you need me.”

Rocket nodded, “You too.” With that, he shut off the link. Then, with his free hand, he reached over to pry the kid’s little fingers loose from his fur again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled in the middle of a yawn as she let go. She nuzzled into him, hooking one of her arms around the one of his that was holding her.

“It’s okay, kid,” he answered, ruffling the fur around her ears. Mantis was right, she is kinda cute.

“Rocket?”

“Yeah?” he answered as he moved back to the blanket. She gripped his arm tighter as he bent to pick up the pillow and place it back on the bed.

“Why would pretending to be mad be considered joking?”

“’Cause it’s fun.”

She looked at him seriously, “It’s scary when people are mad, even if they are joking. It is not fun.”

“Can we have this discussion later, kid? It’s time to go back to sleep.” Rocket shifted her weight to the center of his chest and lay on the bed, not even bothering to pick up the blanket from the floor. He relaxed and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt the bed give under his aching body. He just wanted to sleep, possibly for years if he could.

“We’re not going to sleep on the blanket again?” Please just go to sleep, kid.

Rocket didn’t bother opening his eyes, “Kid, you barely slept on the blanket. You slept on top of me. And since you sleep better on top of me, then I’m gonna sleep on the bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I sleep better on the bed,” Rocket responded with another yawn.

“Rocket?”

“Hm?”

“You were sad. Why were you sad?”

Sad? “What are you talking about, kid?”

“When… Quill?” He still didn’t open his eyes, just nodded at her question. “When Quill said you were trying to protect Groot, you were sad. Groot is okay, he’s big now. Why would you be sad if he’s okay?”

“….” Rocket did not want to talk about The Blip right now. “Kid, we’ll talk more later. It really is time to go to sleep.”

“Okay. Rocket?”

What now?

“Can you do the singing thing again?”

“Mmhmmm.” He didn’t even bother turning the Zune back on which apparently had shut itself off while they’d slept. He started humming a few bars of Come and Get Your Love just because it was the only song his tired mind could think of right away.

She passed out quickly. He followed right after, only to be woken up again. This time by a little hand incessantly tapping the side of his face.

“Rocket?”

He lifted his head and met her gaze, “Huh?”

“I have to use the toilet again.”

He plopped his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes with a tired sigh. “Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to wash your hands.”

“Okay.”

Rocket kept his eyes closed, listening to the pitter patter of little feet as the kid walked to the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, he looked at the clock and groaned. It was 3:43 in the morning. It hasn’t even been an hour since Quill called. He brought his fists up and rubbed his knuckles against his forehead in frustration.

Gotta calm down before the kid sees.

Well, I guess the bright side of this is that she didn’t pee on me.

89P13-15 was first aware that the light was brighter. She was curled up against Sister’s fur and Sister had one of her arms around her. She snuggled closer into Sister’s hold and breathed deeply. Then she froze.

Something wasn’t right.

Sister’s arms were not this big. Sister herself wasn’t big enough for 89P13-15 to curl up on her chest like this. Sister was the same size as her. She’d been her littermate, according to Sire.

89P13-15 panicked. With a squeal, she jumped away from whatever was holding her, hit something soft, rolled off that, and landed on her head with a large smack on a blanket that someone had placed on the floor.

“Kid?” Rocket called out, just as surprised as she was.

Rocket. That was Rocket holding me.

She stood, rubbing the side of her head where it had smacked into the floor. “Ow.”

“You okay? Here, let me see,” Rocket moved from the bed and knelt in front of her, his hand moving toward her face.

89P13-15 froze, her eyes widening. The memory of Sire grabbing Sister by the face flashed through her mind and she stiffened.

Rocket paused, something unreadable in his eyes, “I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just checking.” Slowly, softly, his hand pushed hers away from her head and his fingers ran over the sore spot. “Looks like you didn’t hit your head too hard. It’ll probably be a little sore, but I think you’ll be okay.” His hand was still pressed softly on the side of her skull when he turned his head to meet her eyes, “Tell me if your head starts hurting worse, okay?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him.

“Kid? Kid!”

“I’m sorry!”

Rocket’s hand moved from her head to her shoulder, his face looking worried.

“I’m okay.” She looked at the floor, “Sister and I used to check on each other like this, especially after Sire grabbed us.” There was a sharp intake of breath, but Rocket didn’t say anything as he rubbed her shoulder gently. She looked back at him, not sure if she should keep talking. He looked so sad.

Rocket’s jaw clenched and it seemed he had trouble speaking for a moment, “I’ll never grab you like that, okay?” His other hand came to rest on her other shoulder. “No one will.” Anger flashed in his eyes and 89P13-15 shrank in on herself.

“I’m mad at Him, kid. Not you.”

“Promise?”

“That your favorite word, huh?” He rubbed her shoulders and moved his hands down to gently hold her little hands. “I already promised no one was gonna hurt you.”

“He grabbed us by our heads, sometimes he would throw us,” 89P13-15 said quietly, not sure why she was telling Rocket this. “And when he was mad at Sister, he would kick me into the wall.”

He didn’t say anything, not for a while and 89P13-15 was beginning to think she’d said too much. That unreadable emotion was in his eyes again. All over his face now. It almost looked like rage.

She sniffed, feeling the tears threatening to start all over again.

His hands squeezed hers gently. Then he spoke.

“Aww, kid. C’mere.” He let go of her hands and opened his arms a little, much like Sister had whenever she’d wanted a hug.

He wasn’t mad at her. She was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Rocket meant what he said. That he would never hurt her.

89P13-15 looked at him uncertainly and stepped forward slowly. She didn’t look away from his face and he nodded slowly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his arms wrapped around her.

“All of that’s over, I promise. And if anyone so much as lays a finger on you… I’ll kill ‘em.”

89P13-15 decided that she could at least try to start believing him.

Chapter Text

Rocket tried to keep himself from laughing as he watched the kid walking beside him, so close that she was practically glued to his thigh. Her little tail wagged stiffly, too short to swish like his, as she took in the sights around her. Her little fingers reached up and grabbed his belt loop, holding tightly.

He placed a hand on top of her little head. “You okay there, kid?”

“It’s so… busy,” she answered quietly.

He looked around the market street of Knowhere, watching all the people around them. She was right, it was busy this morning.

“There are so many people,” she kept whispering. “And so many loud noises,” she finished, laying her ears flat to her skull.

He hadn’t really noticed. He’d been to so many places since escaping Counter-Earth and so many had been much busier and louder than this.

But to a little raccoon who had never really seen much outside of a cage… That feeling of being completely overwhelmed wasn’t one he liked to remember.

A little hand tugged his.

“Rocket?”

He shook his head, “You’re right, it is kinda loud. But you’ll get used to it.”

Her little hand tightened on his, while the other still gripped the belt loop of his soft brown pants. It occurred to him that she was trying to use his arm as a sort of shield. “I don’t think so.”

He squeezed her fingers gently, “I didn’t think I would either. When I got away from Him… Everything was so…” he sighed. “Huge. I was quite a bit bigger than you are, but still…”

“What did you do?”

“Got used to it.” Granted he hadn’t had much of a choice and he’d been completely alone until Groot came along. He met her eyes as she looked up at him. She looked thoughtful, like she was trying to process what he’d told her.

“I still don’t understand what we’re doing here, Rocket.”

He chuckled, “You know why we’re here, kid. You need clothes.”

“I’m covered in fur,” she answered indignantly. The effect was ruined by the fact that she was still trying to use his arm as a shield.

He stifled another laugh, “Doesn’t change the fact that you still need clothes.”

“Why?”

“I am Groot.”

The kid gasped, letting go of his hand and beltloop to hide behind him as the Flora Colossus walked up to them. Groot’s happy smile turned to a concerned frown.

“I am Groot?”

“She’s fine, Groot. She’s been doing this all morning. Every time someone talks to us.” The kid was pressed against the back of his thigh, little claws clutching his pants’ leg.

“I am Groot,” the big idiot answered softly.

“Groot said he didn’t mean to scare you, kid.”

“No, he didn’t,” she squeaked.

“Huh?”

“He didn’t say that. He said ‘I am Groot’.”

Rocket laughed, “Groot don’t know talking like you and me. His vocabulary is… very limited.” He laughed again, remembering the first time he’d had to explain this to Quill, back at the Kyln.

“So, it’s a type of language?” the kid asked, peering around the side of his leg to stare up at Groot.

Groot gave her one of those dumbass smiles and Rocket rolled his eyes.

“I am Groot.”

“He said you’re right. He also said ‘Good Morning’.”

The kid didn’t answer, she just kept staring.

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, we’ll be at breakfast Groot. I just want to get her some clothes first.”

“I don’t need clothes,” the kid answered, pouting.

Groot knelt and held out his open palm to her. She ducked behind Rocket, and he felt a little hand grab his beltloop again. He shook his head with an exasperated sigh.

“I am Groot,” Groot said softly as a tiny flower grew quickly in his palm. The kid peered around Rocket again, and Groot plucked the little flower with his other hand and offered it to her. “I am Groot.”

Rocket smiled softly, “You big idiot.”

“What did he say?” asked the kid. Slowly, she reached out and took the flower from Groot. “Thank you.”

“I am Groot.”

“He said that you’re welcome. He also said that you’re a person and people wear clothes. Only animals and things don’t wear clothes. He said it wasn’t right of Him to make you go without.”

“But Rocket, Groot’s not wearing any clothes,” the kid answered, sounding somewhat triumphant.

Groot beat him to it. “I am Groot.”

“He said plant people like what he is don’t count, kid,” Rocket translated, chuckling when the kid deflated with a pout. “Besides, his bark is kinda like clothes anyway.”

“I am Groot,” Groot rumbled, standing.

“He says he’ll see us at breakfast. He’s got a surprise for ya. Wait, what surprise?” Rocket looked quizzically at Groot.

“I am Groot.” You’ll see. Groot looked very pleased with himself.

“Yeah, yeah. Get outta here. We got clothes to buy.”

“I am Groot.”

What that, Groot turned and strode off.

Rocket jolted with shock when the kid, still gripping his beltloop, called out, “Bye Groot!” She waved with the hand that still held the little flower.

He snorted. Figures. That big, lovable, idiot.

Groot looked over his shoulder, waving back as he disappeared around a corner.

89P13-15 stared at the woman in front of her and clutched the flower Groot had given to her to her chest. The woman was holding what suspiciously looked like some kind of weapon, even though Rocket had assured her that it was just a scanner.

It looks too much like one of Sire’s guns. She’d been threatened by them enough times to recognize the general shape of a weapon.

So, despite the woman’s, and Rocket’s, assurances, she’d hid behind Rocket and absolutely refused to budge.

“It’s okay, kid. We’re just trying to get your measurements.”

“No.”

“Kid,” Rocket responded with another sigh. He was doing that a lot. Ever since 89P13-15 had met him, actually. Maybe he’s always done that?

That wasn’t really important right now.

89P13-15 matched Rocket’s tone, “No.” It was the only thing she’d said since stepping into the clothes shop and it was the only thing she was willing to say this close to a stranger.

Especially one that was holding the equivalent of a gun and had already tried to point the thing at her once.

Rocket sighed again, “It might be better if I do it, Cana.”

The woman, Cana, who had leathery brown skin with black marks flecking her face, nodded, “You may be right.”

And then she handed the gun looking scanner to Rocket.

89P13-15 felt the breath hitch in her throat.

Rocket heard it too. Somehow, he managed to unglue 89P13-15 from the back of his thigh and turned to kneel in front of her. He held the thing in front of him so that she could see it better.

He pointed to the screen at the top of the handle that 89P13-15 had not yet seen, “It’s just a scanner, kid. Cana’s used it on everyone that comes through here. It’s how she gets the clothes she makes to fit people.”

“I used it on Rocket once, too,” Cana offered softly, with a gentle smile on her wrinkled face.

“Sorry about this, Cana.”

“It’s okay, Rocket. I have children myself too, it’s not unusual for them to be shy like this.”

Rocket’s ears flicked at the woman’s words, but 89P13-15 was still too anxious to remark on it.

89P13-15 shook her head at Rocket, hard. “No.”

He sighed again.

Cana, though, seemed very amused. “How about I scan you again, Rocket?”

He turned his head to look at Cana and 89P13-15 took advantage of his inattention to press herself into the right side of chest, opposite from the offensive scanner that he held in his left hand. Her little fingers clutched a handful of his soft blue shirt.

Rocket jerked with surprise, his empty hand hovering over her head. He looked down at her and then back up to Cana. 89P13-15 nuzzled into him, listening as his words reverberated in his chest. Much like his singing had last night.

“You already got my measurements, Cana,” he sounded confused. His hand lowered to 89P13-15's head and he started stroking the fur between her ears.

“Sometimes just seeing a grown-up do something can make a child less scared. It worked with my children when they were small.”

“Hmmm. If you think it’ll work…”

“No harm in trying.”

“True.” Rocket gently pulled 89P13-15’s claws loose from his shirt.

“No!” 89P13-15 yelped and frantically grabbed for him as he pulled away from her to stand. “No, no, no, no!”

Rocket flinched, “For god’s sake, kid. I’m not frickin’ going anywhere.”

89P13-15 dropped her flower as her little claws on both her hands and feet gripped Rocket’s pant leg and she practically climbed up him to wrap her little arms around his neck. Rocket’s free arm held her to him as the other holding the scanner dropped to his side.

“Kid.”

“No,” she murmured.

Cana was laughing and Rocket gave the woman an irritated look. He shook his head and his tail swished. Cana stepped towards them and 89P13-15 buried her face under Rocket’s chin, shivering.

“You dropped your flower, little one.”

89P13-15 turned her head just enough to see Cana out of the corner of her eye. The old woman was squatting in front of them, holding out the little white flower. She pulled her little head back enough to meet Rocket’s eyes. He nodded softly.

89P13-15 unhooked one little hand from his shirt and reached toward the flower. Cana didn’t move as she grabbed the flower and pulled it back to her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

“You’re welcome, little one. Tell you what, you let me show you how the scanner works on Rocket and you can pick whatever color you want for your clothes.”

For the first time since walking into the shop, 89P13-15 looked around her and saw all the racks of fabrics around them. All the colors and patterns. Her eyes were huge when she looked back to Cana, “Really?”

“Really. I might even find a way to put a flower on it.”

“Like this one?”

“Sure. But you’ll need to let Rocket scan your measurements first, okay?”

89P13-15 stared at Rocket.

For some reason his ears flattened. He sighed, tension leaving his shoulders, and nodded again.

“Okay.” She allowed Rocket to set her down. She didn’t move from her spot while Rocket handed the scanner back to Cana and they both took a few steps away from her.

“Rocket?” she whispered, fear coloring her voice as Cana pointed the scanner at him.

“I’m okay, kid.”

“Done. Your turn, little one,” Cana said cheerfully as she handed the scanner back to Rocket.

Before she knew it, Cana was setting the scanner back into some kind of charging port, “I should have at least one outfit done in about twenty minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”

Surprise colored Rocket’s voice as he offered a hand to 89P13-15, “That quick?”

The old woman shrugged, “She’s tiny. And it’s not like I’m making a battle jumpsuit. Just some playclothes. The boots you wanted for her won’t be ready until tomorrow though. I have a few more orders I need to complete before I can start working on them.”

“That’s fine.”

Cana turned her attention back to 89P13-15, chuckling as she tried to use Rocket’s hand to hide her face. “What colors do you want for your clothes, little one?”

89P13-15 looked around again, “Ummm…”

“Too many pretty colors?”

89P13-15 nodded.

“How about blue, like Rocket’s shirt?”

“Yes, please.”

Rocket chuckled as the kid pulled at the collar of her new jumpsuit. The soft fabric was the same color as his shirt and Cana had even managed to make a little flower shaped badge that was placed high on the chest, much like the Ravager type badge the Guardians had taken to wearing on their battle-suits. Her little flower was tucked safely into a side pocket, the white petals starting to look a little bruised from her dropping it at Cana’s shop.

“Easy, kid.”

“It itches.”

He laughed, remembering the first clothes he’d ever worn. “I’m sure it does. Just try to ignore it, okay?”

She gave him an incredulous look, almost like she thought he was crazy. He gave her an amused smile, but she just shook her head and pulled at the collar again.

He rolled his eyes, picking her up as they walked into the bar, the same one where she’d fallen into their lives yesterday. Was it really only yesterday?

Nebula and Drax were at the counter, finishing up with preparing breakfast. Groot was already sitting at their favorite table and met them with a silly grin. Rocket rolled his eyes as he climbed a chair to place the kid on it. “Stay here with Groot. I’m gonna see if Nebula and Drax need my help.”

She looked at him with wide eyes and almost froze with fear at the prospect of him leaving her.

“I am Groot.” Groot said softly.

“He said that your clothes look pretty. And that he wants to show you the surprise he was talking about.” Rocket paused, still perched on the side of the chair. “I kinda want to see this surprise too.”

Groot grinned, “I am Groot.” He opened a box and pulled out several sheets of blank paper and a whole handful of crayons.

“So that’s why you were at the market this morning.”

“I am Groot.”

“Well, at least you’re not stealing ship batteries or setting off any more bombs,” Rocket snarked. “Or cutting off my tail hair.” Rocket laughed, “Or stealing Drax’s soap.”

“I am Groot,” Groot rumbled, his version of a laugh.

“Yeah, you almost killed me in the process, you know.”

“I am Groot,” Groot shrugged.

“Dude. Yeah, I wasn’t hurt. So? That ain’t the frickin’ point!”

“Rocket?” A scared little voice interrupted their banter.

Rocket looked down at the kid. She was trembling again and watching Groot with wide eyes.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket sighed, “He didn’t mean to do it, kid. He was about your size at the time and it was an accident.”

“I am Groot,” Groot affirmed, picking up a blue crayon and scribbling a little. He picked up the paper to show the kid, almost like he was trying to teach her how to color. “I am Groot.”

“You made that picture on Rocket’s wall.”

Rocket looked at her, “How did you know that, kid?”

She looked at the picture a moment longer, then looked back at him. “The scribbles are the same, just bigger,” she answered matter-of-factly, like she thought it should be frickin’ obvious.

“I am Groot?”

“Of course I kept it, Groot. What was I supposed to do, let the picture you made of our family get sucked out into space and just float off into god knows where?”

“Family? But none of you are biologically related. The only ones who are even the same species are you and me.”

“I am Groot.”

The kid looked at Rocket for a translation, confusion all over her face as she scrunched her nose. Rocket realized with shock that the kid had probably never heard the word ‘family’ used in this context before. His heart ached for her.

“Family are the people who love you, kid. Related or not.”

Chapter Text

The kid seemed to be thinking about what Rocket had said. Rocket wasn’t going to try to push her to understand, he remembered how difficult accepting even the concept of family had been for him.

“You good to stay with Groot?”

She looked back up at him where he was still perched on her chair. Her eyes were wide with… more than fear. Terror. It was a little unnerving to him how quickly she’d become attached to him. But Floor had been the same way…

“You’re not leaving, right?” she whispered.

“Nah, I’ll be right over there,” he inclined his head toward Drax and Nebula, who were still at the bar. “You’ll be able to see me.”

She looked to Groot, who slid a blank piece of paper over the table to her and offered her the blue crayon. “I am Groot?”

The kid looked to Rocket, once again silently asking for his approval. He felt his shoulders tense. I really, really, have to break her of that.

“It’s fine, kid. You can trust Groot.”

“I am Groot.”

Slowly, she took the crayon from Groot. Then she met Rocket’s eyes, “You promise you won’t leave?”

He ruffled the fur under her ear, “Promise, kid. I won’t be long.”

She looked back at Groot.

“I am Groot.”

“Okay.”

“I am Groot.” The idiot looked extremely happy as he gave the kid a huge smile. Rocket rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, then left them to it.

“Quill made it,” he stated simply when he stopped at the open end of the bar, where he could see both Drax and Nebula.

They both nodded in response, focused on their tasks.

“How is she?” Drax asked.

Rocket looked back, making sure the kid wasn’t paying attention. Her little eyes were glued to the paper in front of her as she copied Groot’s movements, scribbling all over her paper. Groot was keeping up a steady stream of rumbling ‘I am Groot’, telling the kid different stories from when he was growing up, even though the big idiot knew the kid couldn’t understand him yet.

His shoulders and tail drooped as he watched them, “I don’t know. Neither one of us slept much last night. She seems to be okay for now but I get the feeling that’ll change quick.”

Drax hummed in acknowledgement, preoccupied with plating the huge skillet of eggs he was working on. Most of which the Kylosian would end up eating, of course.

“How are you holding up,” Nebula asked, offering Rocket a mug of coffee.

Rocket took the mug and sipped, buying himself some time to think. He stared at the contents of the cup when he answered, “I… I don’t know. It’s dredging up a lot of stuff for me. And I have no frickin’ clue what the hell I’m doing.” He shook his head and looked at Drax, “I thought you were with the other kids, Drax?” He looked over at Nebula, “And where are Kraglin and Cosmo?”

Drax turned to lay two plates on the bar, “They have already had their morning meal. We decided it would be best to expose your daughter to only a few people at a time.”

Rocket, who’d been taking another sip, did a spit-take. He choked, coughing to clear his airway. When he finally caught his breath, he glared at Drax. “She ain’t my kid, Drax!” First Cana, now him!

Nebula rolled her eyes as she offered Rocket a small towel.

This was the Quill and Yondu thing all over again.

Drax kept going, completely unperturbed, “It is still possible.”

“No it’s not! I was a kid when I got away from Him, Drax! A frickin’ kid!”

Drax just looked at him, “There are some parents who have children young.”

Rocket gripped his mug so tightly that he was sure it would shatter. “That was a very long time ago, Drax,” he murmured dangerously. “More importantly. There. Were. No. Other. Raccoons. Like. Me. When. I. Left,” he snarled, spitting each word out through gritted teeth.

Nebula laughed. Actually frickin’ laughed. And Drax looked very pleased with himself.

Rocket was dumbfounded. Drax had been messing with him. How the hell did that bozo get smart enough to do that? “You…”

“Yes?”

Rocket shook his head, muttering into his cup as he took another sip.

Drax’s face turned serious. “She may not be the result of any sexual intercourse of yours,” Rocket choked again and Drax continued as if he hadn’t heard, “but she is still your daughter.”

Rocket, who’d finally managed to breathe again after an even longer coughing fit, opened his mouth, but Drax spoke over him.

“You have decided to take her into your care, to raise her?”

“Well, yeah. But-“

“Then she is your daughter. Just as much as Groot is your son.”

“Drax, we all raised Groot.”

“We were, and still are, uncles and aunts. You have been the one primarily responsible for their care. You are their dad. Just as I am now a dad to the other children we rescued.” It was an unspoken rule that none of the Guardians used the word father. None of them exactly had any good experiences with that particular word, aside from Drax himself. That, and Quill had told them all what Yondu’s last words had been.

Rocket started shaking his head, “I ain’t a dad, Drax. I just said that I have no frickin’ idea what I’m doing!” Forget the fact that Groot consistently called him that ever since The Snap. Rocket had never really had the heart to make him stop.

Nebula was still quiet as she grabbed the first two plates. She gave Rocket a reassuring glance as she went to take food to Groot and the kid.

“I didn’t either when Kamaria was born. I was terrified,” Drax said softly, a bittersweet tone to his voice. “Yet there I was, responsible for a tiny life that had not even a hope of being capable of defending herself. I had to learn how to care for her and, in time, you will too. The difference is that you already have the experience from caring for Groot to somewhat rely upon.”

Before Rocket could process any of that, there was a terrified gasp and then a squeal from the kid. Rocket whipped around, immediately on high alert and one hand reaching for his hip where he would normally keep a pistol or some other weapon. The kid had climbed down off the chair and was running to him. Away from Nebula. Her little eyes were wide with fear as she almost slammed into his leg, her claws gripping his pants leg so tightly that he could feel them through the fabric.

His hand went down to rest on the top of her head and he sighed, “Kid, it’s just Nebula.”

She didn’t answer, wide eyes taking in Drax’s form in front of them. She was trembling so much that Rocket was sure she was about to climb up him again like she’d done at Cana’s shop.

Drax knelt where he was, not moving closer. “Hello, silly little girl.” It did not escape Rocket that the big lug wasn’t using the word stupid, like he did with the other kids.

The trembling stopped and Rocket watched with amazement, and some humor, when the kid gave Drax the stink-eye.

Drax chuckled softly, “I’m sure you are very hungry. Have you had eggs before?”

“No.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“No.” Rocket rolled his eyes. Great, they were back to the No again. Yep. This is gonna be fun.

Drax seemed completely unbothered as he stood and shrugged. “Very well, more for us then.”

“What-“ Rocket stopped when Drax glanced at him meaningfully. What the idiot was trying to tell him, Rocket had no clue. The Kylosian grabbed two more plates, both heaping, and walked to the table, completely unbothered. Rocket just stared at his back.

“Rocket?” the kid whispered only once she was certain Drax was out of hearing range.

Rocket sighed, bending down to pick her up again, “C’mon, let’s go eat, kid.”

“I’m not hungry,” she sniffled. Her stomach growled and her eyes went wide.

Despite himself Rocket laughed, shaking his head.

Groot reached down to take the coffee mug and Rocket shifted his hold on the kid. He climbed the chair beside Groot and sat with the kid in his lap. There really was no point to trying to make her sit by herself, not with the way she was trembling again. The paper and crayons were already cleared away, safe in the little box.

Nebula left the table as Groot set Rocket’s coffee down, coming back with four water containers. Drax had already placed one of the plates in front of him and Rocket just stared. It was then that it occurred to him that there were only four plates on the table and his had way more food on it than he normally ate.

“Uh, Drax? You know I don’t eat that much.”

“Like I said,” Drax responded, mouth already full. He looked pointedly at the kid, then back to Rocket with a shrug, “More for us.”

“I am Groot.” Yeah, Rocket was not repeating that in front of the kid. Absolutely not.

Nebula rolled her eyes, seemingly in on whatever game Drax was playing. Even though all of them knew that Drax was definitely not smart enough to play games like this. “Just eat, Groot.”

Rocket rolled his eyes with a huff, “Whatever.” He’d get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on eventually. He grabbed his fork and scooped a bite, glaring at Drax as he chewed. Eventually the big lug would start to squirm and give up whatever half-assed plan he was working on.

Drax ignored him as Rocket took a few more bites. That was not normal. He looked to Nebula, who just stared back at him for a beat before shrugging her shoulders and looking back to her own plate.

“I am Groot?”

Before Rocket could respond that he didn’t know what the hell was going on, movement near his plate caught his attention. A little hand had darted forward and swiped a clump of egg. The kid, completely unaware that Rocket was watching her, shoved the egg into her mouth and chewed as quietly as she could.

Huh.

Maybe Drax was smarter than he looked.

He met the Kylosian’s gaze and Drax gave him another smug look. Rocket rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the kid who was in the middle of swiping another handful. She chewed quickly, swallowed, and reached again.

Rocket opened his mouth to say something but Nebula grunted, drawing his attention. She shook her head when he met her eyes. “So. Quill made it to his grandpa’s?”

“I am Groot.” Groot was taking full advantage of the kid not being able to understand him, ‘You tricked her into eating? How? Drax isn’t smart enough for that!

“Hey!” Drax snapped indignantly and then jumped slightly. Rocket chuckled to himself, knowing full well Nebula had kicked him under the table. She glared at Drax and nodded to the kid in Rocket’s lap, who’d frozen with her arm stretched towards Rocket’s plate again. The kid didn’t see this, eyes on Drax and trembling from his outburst.

“Umm, I mean, hey, Quill made it,” Drax mumbled, turning his attention back to his plate and shoveling more food into his face.

Both Rocket and Nebula rolled their eyes. Rocket scooped more egg up and watched as the kid went back to stealing his food. She’d made quite a dent in the pile of eggs already. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

89P13-15 couldn’t eat any more eggs, she was so full. But the eggs left an aftertaste that she couldn’t quite name and her throat was dry. She eyed Rocket’s water container, one that looked identical to the one Mantis had gotten for her last night. She lifted a little hand to reach for it but decided against it. She’d managed to steal the eggs without all of them noticing only because Rocket’s plate was so close to her. She would have to climb onto the table to get the water and then everyone would be looking at her. The blue woman, Nebula as Rocket called her, and the huge and muscled man, Drax, were very scary looking. Nebula’s expression barely changed and Drax, while he talked friendly, was covered in markings that looked too much like skulls.

Yes, Groot was taller than the two of them. But he’d given her the flower and taught her to color.

She shook her head. Focus. How am I going to get the water without them noticing? Try as she might, she didn’t have an answer. Rocket grabbed the handle of the mug with the dark, burnt smelling liquid and took a long swallow of the stuff. As he reached to put it back down, 89P13-15 tugged on his elbow.

“Yeah, kid?” He chuckled and grabbed a napkin, proceeding to wipe the side of her face. The napkin came back with bits of egg on it. 89P13-15 froze, looking at Rocket fearfully. He just laughed again and winked at her, almost as if this was their little secret. She breathed deeply, trying to let go of her fear.

89P13-15 held his gaze for another moment, then looked at the water. He didn’t move and she looked back at him. He met her gaze, smirking with an eyebrow raised. She huffed and looked back at the water.

“I am Groot.”

“Groot said you can talk around Nebs and Drax. They ain’t gonna hurt ya either.”

89P13-15 looked from one to the other. Drax gave her a wide and seemingly genuine smile when she met his eyes. She looked to Nebula who gave a very tiny smile that 89P13-15 thought was maybe supposed to be encouraging but didn’t quite fit the woman’s face. Almost like Nebula wasn’t used to making that kind of expression.

She looked up to Rocket. He ruffled the fur under her ear again, “It’s okay, kid.”

“Can I have some water? Please?” she tacked on at the end, remembering how mad Sire would get whenever she and Sister would, as he’d say it, forget the pleasantries.

“Sure.”

Rocket handed her the container and she sipped deeply before handing it back to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, have you decided upon a name for her?” Drax said directly to Rocket. He made that weird wince again for no reason, the one that had made Rocket laugh earlier. Rocket laughed again, shaking his head and giving Nebula a look that 89P13-15 couldn’t quite figure out.

“I don’t need a name,” she said, just as… indignantly, that’s the word… indignantly as she had when Rocket had brought up clothes.

“I am Groot.”

“Yes, you do,” Nebula said softly. 89P13-15 buried her face in Rocket’s shirt at the sound of her voice.

“I know! We can name her Shocket. Rocket and Shocket. It was most definitely shocking when she fell from the airduct.”

Everyone else at the table, most especially Rocket, groaned at his words.

89P13-15 pulled back to look at Drax and just stared at him. Is he being serious? He smiled hugely at her again. He is!

“I am Groot.”

“That is a horrible name,” 89P13-15 stated blandly. Drax still scared her, but there was no way she was going to let him name her that. “I don’t need a name,” she mumbled.

Rocket sighed, “Kid, you can’t go by a number for the rest of your life.”

“Sister did.”

Rocket flinched but didn’t stop, “No she didn’t. You called her ‘Sister’. I’ve never heard you refer to her by a number.”

While the term ‘sister’ wasn’t an actual name, he did have a point. 89P13-14 was something 89P13-15 called Sister only a handful of times, before the first time Sire let her read.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring straight ahead. That earned a ripple of amused chuckles from the others. She felt her little face burn, but she refused to acknowledge them. The fur on her face covered her embarrassment just fine. She shifted to pluck her little flower from her pocket, idly playing with it.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket shook his head, “Doesn’t quite fit. Besides, the kid should probably pick her own name. I did.”

“You did?”

Rocket hummed with a nod and met 89P13-15’s gaze. “Yeah.”

“I have never heard this story,” Drax stated simply. “Is it because you like to blow things up?”

Judging by Rocket’s expression, 89P13-15 had a feeling that wasn’t it. Rocket looked… He looked a little sad again. Almost like he looked when Quill had talked about him trying to protect Groot.

“Rocket?” Nebula said softly, concern on her face. “Are you okay?”

Rocket shook his head as if he just realized they were all still there, “I saw an actual rocket flying the first time I ever saw the sky.” His tone was wistful, like he still wasn’t quite there with them in his mind. “It looked…” He huffed humorlessly. “It looked… free.” 89P13-15 had a feeling he was being honest but something was missing. He sounded almost like she did the few times she’d talked about Sister.

89P13-15 snuggled against him and he gave her a surprised look. She snuggled against him again, thinking. This time his arms wrapped around her.

“Rocket?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Rocket was a noun that wasn’t a name, but you made it a name,” she stated simply.

“He made it his name,” Drax answered. “But we can’t call you both ‘Rocket’, that would be confusing."

“Oh my god,” Nebula groaned, hiding her face in her hand. “I don’t think that’s what she means, Drax.”

“I am Groot.”

89P13-15 watched them from the safety of Rocket’s arms. All three seemed genuinely concerned for Rocket. And Nebula even… Nebula seemed to care about what 89P13-15 was trying to say.

Maybe they’re not so scary after all.

“Song,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Song is a noun that I would like to be my name.” She looked up and met Rocket’s gaze, suddenly worried and a little scared that he wouldn’t like it.

“Sounds like a pretty good name to me.”

“I am Groot.”

“Groot thinks so too.”

“Is there a reason you picked it, Song?” Nebula asked, just the tiniest hint of curiosity in her gaze. Expressions still didn’t come naturally to the blue woman, but 89P13-15… no, Song. My name is Song… began to think that maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

Song thought for a moment, “Rocket sometimes sings and hums songs to me. When he does, I feel like I can be safe.” She shook her head, “No. That’s not it.” She looked up at Rocket again, “I know that I’m safe.”

Rocket chuckled and ruffled the fur under ear again. He smiled softly and his eyes looked a little misty, “Damn right you are.” His face turned just a little panicked, “Don’t say ‘damn’, okay, Song?”

“O-kay?” she answered, completely confused.

Nebula pointed the pronged end of her fork at Rocket, “That’s going to come back to bite you.”

“I am Groot.”

“How can telling Song not to say ‘damn’ bite Rocket? Words have no physical teeth.”

Rocket groaned and Nebula rolled her eyes.

“Metaphor again?”

Song shook her head at them. She just wanted to color again. Maybe Rocket will color with me and Groot this time?

Chapter Text

Rocket adjusted his hold on Song. The kid had fallen asleep not long after naming herself. Keeping hold of her and making all the necessary repairs to the Bowie and Knowhere’s security systems was gonna be extremely difficult, but he doubted the kid would let him put her down for even a second.

“I am Groot?”

Drax shook his head, “I have not heard from Mantis. I am sure she is fine.”

Nebula grumbled, “I don’t like that. I specifically told her to make sure that she checks in at least once a day.”

“I am Groot.”

Nebula scowled at him.

“Groot is right. You did not specify what time of day she was supposed to ‘check-in’.”

“Nebs,” Rocket spoke softly, careful not to wake Song. “I know you’re worried. We all are. But she’s got the abilisks with her. If she can handle those things, she’ll be okay.”

Nebula huffed, looking down, “I know you’re right. Still…”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket nodded, “I get it. Everytime we split up, something happens. But we ain’t in the middle of a job. Quill’s at his grandpa’s. And Mantis-“

“Is likely poking her nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

“Why would one poke their nose into anything? Why would Mantis? I thought she was exploring. Poking your nose into places is ridiculous, not to mention impossible.” Drax’s face lit up like the idiot had realized something, “Although, I would not put it past Mantis to try. It would be hilarious to see.” He laughed loudly and Song jerked. Rocket held his breath, but the kid just gripped his shirt tighter, made a soft peeping sound, and relaxed.

“I am Groot,” Groot responded, rolling his eyes.

Rocket and Nebula just glared at Drax.

“What?”

All three shook their heads at him.

“Anyway,” Rocket said with an eye-roll, “I’m sure Mant will be okay. She’s a lot tougher than we all thought.”

Nebula pointed her fork at him again, “You better be right.”

“I am Groot?”

“I gotta figure out the extent of the damage from the Hellspawn attack. I’m pretty sure the perimeter alarms and security systems are gonna need to be completely redone and the Bowie-“

“Can wait a few days,” Nebula interjected.

Rocket was already shaking his head, “What if we’re attacked again, Nebs? It’s not much of a stretch for someone who hates the Guardians to figure out we’re vulnerable, after everything that just-“

“And Marcus and his crews have already started, Rocket. Kraglin and I already rounded them up this morning. They can handle it. They manage just fine every time we’re away, anyway.”

“Not when things are this messed up, Nebs. I-“

“I am Groot,” Groot cut him off with a warning look. Dad. That one simple phrase made Rocket snap his mouth shut. Groot had never spoken to him in that tone before and it shocked him to silence. The Flora Colossus’s expression softened, “I am Groot.” Dad, you almost died. Medpacs can only do so much, you need to rest.

Rocket took a shaky breath and, keeping one arm wrapped around Song, reached out to pat Groot on the arm, “M’okay, Groot.”

“You are only one person, Rocket. You cannot physically make all the repairs yourself,” Drax said pointedly.

Rocket rolled his eyes again, “Never said I planned to. But it’ll go much faster if I-“

“Rest.” Nebula’s tone left no room for argument. “Groot’s right, medpacs aren’t miracle treatments. As slowly as you were walking, I have no doubt that your chest still hurts.”

“Nebula,” Rocket nearly growled in warning.

And of course, she ignored him. As per frickin’ usual. “You just told us that you and Song didn’t sleep much last night.”

“I slept plenty-“

“Coma’s don’t count.”

“I am Groot.”

“Marcus can manage a few days without assistance. He may not be as gifted a mechanic as you are, Rocket, but he is still very capable. Especially since Adam and Cosmo will be doing all the heavy lifting.”

Rocket glared.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket snarled and pointed a finger at Groot, his other arm still wrapped around Song, “Don’t you dare.”

“I am Groot.”

“Fine. Morons.”

“Rocket, we’re only doing this because we love you.” It wasn’t lost on Rocket that this was the first time he’d ever heard Nebula say that out loud to anyone. She might have said it to Gamora, but he couldn’t be sure.

Didn’t matter, it still made him freeze and focus on her. Her black eyes looked a little unsure, her voice lower, “You’re the closest I’ll ever have to a real brother, Rocket. Please… just try to take better care of yourself.”

Five years just the two of them, during The Blip. If it had been anyone else asking this… He huffed, releasing the tension building up in his shoulders as his ears swiveled back. “Fine, Nebs.” He shook his finger at her, “Just for today.”

“Three days.”

“Uh-uh, one’s all you’re gettin’.”

“I am Groot!” Groot threatened again.

Rocket felt his ears flatten to his skull, “Groot-“

“I am Groot!”

“Fine. Three days. After that, if I hear a single one of ya complaining about me not resting-“

“That depends on how well you are in three days,” Drax interjected.

Rocket threw his free arm up in the air, looking up at the ceiling, “Unbelievable. Just frickin’ unbelievable. Morons. Frickin’ morons.”

Rocket was still mumbling to himself as he carried Song out of the bar. The kid hadn’t moved one bit when he’d climbed down the chair and shifted his hold on her. Her head rested on his shoulder as she made tiny snuffling little snores. He rolled his eyes but smirked. Maybe being a dad wasn’t as daunting as he’d originally thought.

“I am Groot.”

But it could probably be very annoying.

Groot had taken it upon himself to follow Rocket and make sure he went back to his quarters and not to the Bowie or to Marcus’ staging point for the repairs to Knowhere. Nebula and Drax had both thought it a good idea, completely ignoring Rocket’s grumbling.

“I am Groot?”

“She’s fine, Groot.”

“I am Groot?”

“No, I can carry her. I’m not frickin’ helpless, Groot.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket took a deep breath. And then another. And then a third. He told himself Groot wasn’t thinking he was useless or weak. Groot was worried. And when Groot was worried, he was always over the top. Like Rocket.

Like his dad.

“I’m okay, Groot. Yeah, my chest still hurts. Yours would too if you had that many wires and tubes plugged into ya.”

“I am Groot.” Groot responded in the smallest voice he was capable of. Rocket hadn’t heard him sound that scared since Groot had been a sapling and scared of the dark.

He stopped and turned to look up at Groot. “C’mere.”

Groot knelt without a word.

Rocket shifted his hold on Song again, freeing one arm so that he could put a hand on Groot’s shoulder, “I’m sorry I scared you, Groot.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, I know it wasn’t my fault. But it’s over, okay? I’m fine.”

Something flashed in the corner of Rocket’s eye, and he turned his head to look down the alleyway they’d stopped in front of.

“I am Groot?”

“Not sure. I thought I saw…” Rocket shook his head, “Probably just one of the animals from the Areta. I’m pretty sure there are still a few that haven’t been rounded up yet.”

Rocket’s hand still rested on Groot’s shoulder, and he gave him a reassuring pat, “Not important. I’ll be okay, Groot.”

“I am Groot?”

Rocket rolled his eyes fondly, pulling his hand back to rest on Song’s back. “Sure. But you’re sleepin’ on the floor. I ain’t dragging that smelly old mattress of yours into my room.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket turned and started walking again, looking over his shoulder and the top of Song’s head, briefly, “Yeah it does. You still don’t know how to clean up after yourself.”

“I am Groot.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever makes ya happy.”

“I am Groot.”

“Of course I don’t want you moving back in my room! It took forever to get you to move out of my room on the Benatar!”

“I am Groot.”

“You left leaves everywhere!”

89P13-15 thrashed wildly, trying to break the Recorder’s hold. He strapped her down to the operating table again and then handed Sire the handheld electric saw. 89P13-15 tried to screech but she was gagged, and her mouth was tied shut. Sire had started doing that for every operation, stating her screeching was making it hard to think.

The saw came closer to her chest and 89P13-15 pulled at the restraints holding her in place, but they didn’t give. They never gave.

The saw touched her chest and 89P13-15 saw white spots, squealing. Sire didn’t stop.

89P13-15… No, Song… Song woke, gasping. She was on Rocket’s soft bed, not strapped down to the operating table. Her little hands flew to her chest, feeling the soft fabric of the jumpsuit Cana had made. Her claw caught on the flower crest. She laid her palms flat on her chest and felt her ribs through the fabric. Her paws didn’t feel wet, so no blood. And no gaping hole in her chest like in her dream. She sat up, reaching for her pocket and panicked. The flower Groot had given her was gone. My flower! I lost my flower!

She looked frantically around the room before she finally saw it. Right on Rocket’s desk next to the cobbled together key card. She breathed a sigh of relief and slid off the bed. She climbed Rocket’s chair and grabbed the bruised flower, stuffing it into her pocket.

Something outside the window flashed, catching her eye. Song stared, trying to see. It was still light outside, but the flash had come from an alleyway. There were too many shadows to see what might have been out there.

“Rocket, what is-“ she turned, wanting to get his attention.

She froze in fear. Rocket was gone.

“R-Rocket?” she called softly, fear coloring her voice.

No answer.

“Rocket!”

Still no answer. She slid off the chair and ran to the center of the room, almost tripping over the end of the long box that was poking out from under the desk.

“Rocket?”

Her ears twitched in every direction, but she still couldn’t hear him.

“ROCKET!” she screeched, louder than she’d ever thought she was capable of.

“I’m in here, kid!” Rocket’s muffled voice answered from behind the closed bathroom door.

Song ran to the door, hitting the button that opened it, but the door didn’t budge. She felt tears run down her face as she pounded on the door.

“Rocket!”

“Kid?” After another agonizing moment the door opened, and Song threw herself at Rocket. He was dressed in just his soft… pajama pants, that’s what he called them… pajama pants and Song latched onto the fabric near his knee. She buried her face in the side of his leg, just below his hip, and sobbed.

“Song? Kid, what happened?”

“I-I w-woke u-up a-and c-couldn’t f-find m-my f-flower. A-and th-then I-I t-tried t-to f-find y-you b-b-but y-you w-were g-gone!”

Rocket reached down and unhooked her claws from his pants leg.

“NO!” she screeched, and he winced, his ears flattening to his skull.

“Calm down, Song,” he said, picking her up. She sobbed harder. “Kid, you’re okay. I was only in there a minute, tops.”

There was the sound of another door opening and heavy footsteps. Song just buried her head under Rocket’s chin and kept sobbing.

“I am Groot?” Groot’s voice said softly.

“I don’t know, Groot. One minute she’s out like a light. I go change and she just starts screechin’.”

“I am Groot.”

“Maybe.” Rocket patted her back, “C’mon, Song. You’re fine, kid.”

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, it might be good to have some water around, just in case.”

The door closed behind Groot as he left. Song didn’t pull back from Rocket, just clung to him tighter. One of her little claws scraped against a piece of metal on his chest and he winced.

“S-sorry,” she sniffed.

He sighed, “It’s okay, kid. It didn’t hurt, just not used to people touchin’ ‘em.”

“Oh.”

He sat on the bed, reclining a little against the headboard as he gently pulled Song off him and sat her on his lap, his tail curled to the side, “Are you okay?”

She gripped the fur on his arm, being careful not to pull it, “N-no.” Big fat tears were still falling down her face.

He wiped them away with his other hand, “What happened, Song? Nobody came in, aside from Groot. Did ya have another nightmare?”

“N-nightmare?”

“Bad dream,” he translated.

She nodded, “S-sire h-had m-me s-strapped d-down. H-he w-was c-cutting m-my ch-chest o-open. I-I c-couldn’t s-scream. H-he g-gagged m-me. T-tied m-my m-mouth sh-shut.”

First rage, then sorrow crossed Rocket’s face. He pulled her close, “I have those dreams too. It’s okay. It ain’t gonna happen again.”

She let go of the fur on his arm and nuzzled into his chest, “P-promise?”

He chuckled sadly, “Promise.” He started humming and she fell into a thankfully nightmare-less sleep.

A few weeks later…

Song screeched and Rocket jerked his head up from the parts he was replacing. The Bowie had long since been repaired, but no reason to not make a few improvements, right?

The screech sounded again and Rocket put his hand on the butt of the pistol at his hip, taking off in the direction of the common room. Please don’t let her be hurt. Groot, you were supposed to be watching her!

The sight that greeted him when he made it to the common room made him pause and release his hold on the blaster. Figures. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and tail swishing, with a smirk on his face as he watched the commotion going on in front of him.

Song and one of the Star Children, Phylla was what she’d taken to calling herself, were running circles around Groot who was stomping around exaggeratedly like some very slow, very stupid giant. Giant being exactly what he was. Groot had grown a foot taller and even wider since the Areta went down. When asked why, the Flora Colossus only responded with a shrug and a ‘I am Groot’. ‘Cause he needed to. Whatever that means.

Song had grown also, but only an inch or two and nowhere near as fast as the normal raccoon kits. The top of her head now came even with the top of Rocket’s hip and her fur was getting grayer than Rocket’s. Her mask-like markings, hands and feet, and rings on her tail were just as dark as ever.

Rocket chuckled with an eye roll as he realized the kid’s boots were nowhere in sight. Song hated shoes, of any kind, and always took the first opportunity to conveniently lose them. It didn’t matter how many times Rocket had warned her what could happen if she stepped on a stray bolt. Hell, even Nebula, Kraglin, Groot, Cosmo, and Adam all tried to warn her. Even Howard had said something. Drax had simply stated that she would just have to find out for herself, like Kamaria had. Rocket had not liked that, but nothing else worked.

Phylla ducked and giggled as Groot grew vines that slowly came at her. Groot stomped again and Song screeched and turned around to run past Rocket.

“Gotcha!” Rocket lunged and grabbed the kid by the waist and almost dropped her in shock when she started giggling. That was a sound he figured he’d never hear from her.

Song, completely oblivious to Rocket’s stunned expression, giggled again, “Put me down, Rocket! The monster’s gonna get me!”

“I. Am. GROOT!” Groot yelled, his voice reverberating around the room. Rocket snorted. Groot had literally just said ‘Fee, fi, fo, fum,’ from one of the stories Quill told him when he was a sapling.

Rocket pulled Song close to him and ran his fingers along her side, earning him another round of giggles, “That’s not the monster you need to be worried about, kid.”

“No, no, no!” Song squealed, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Rocket took pity on her, stopping long enough to let her catch her breath. She panted much harder than necessary, hamming it up. The first day or two, he’d been extremely careful whenever he’d touched her as he’d been afraid she had injuries she wouldn’t tell him about. It wasn’t until the third night that Song had told them all at dinner that He always patched her and her sister up whenever he went too far and seriously hurt them. He doesn’t like broken things, she’d said with a shrug, almost as if that had been perfectly normal. Rocket had seen red then.

He laughed now at her antics, rolling his eyes at her as he set her back down.

“Rocket?”

“Yeah, Song?” he asked, kneeling down and reaching out to ruffle the fur under her ear.

“Do you have to go tomorrow?”

“You know we do, kid. Those people are depending on us to protect their homes.”

“Then why do I have to stay?”

Great. Not this again.

“’Cause it’s not safe for you.”

“It’s not safe for Phylla, but she’s going.”

She’s not my little girl.

He rolled his eyes. “Phylla can shoot almost as good as I can. And she’s a lot stronger than you are.”

“I’m strong,” Song whined.

Rocket gave her a warning look.

She tried again, doing her best to keep the whine out of her voice, “I’m strong.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder, “Not that strong, kid. You can go with us when you’re older. Okay?”

“But Dad.”

Rocket blinked, then shook his head, “You better not be calling me that just so you can get what you want. ‘Cause it ain’t gonna happen, kid.”

Song pouted, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

That. That right there. That look, those words. That was what was going to do him in.

Unknown to any of them, something flashed briefly outside by one of the Bowie’s landing struts as it melted into the shadows.

Chapter Text

“Wait for me! I’ve got little legs!” Song called out, running in front of Drax as fast as she could. Rocket had left her in Nebula and Drax’s care while he’d finished prepping the new Guardians team for departure. Song, of course, had pouted the entire time. When Nebula had said it was time to see him and the others off, Song had grabbed the little bag she’d found in Rocket’s closet, hefted it over her shoulder, and took off.

Rocket, who was standing by one of the Bowie’s landing struts finishing up the pre-flight checks, turned to her. His ears were pricked towards her and his tail swished. Song was sure she could hear Nebula and Drax chuckling behind her, but she didn’t care.

She slid to a stop in front of Rocket, “Ready to go, Dad.” She pulled her bag off her shoulder and lifted it towards him, “I packed everything. Even… shoes,” she said that last word in a disgusted voice, scrunching her nose.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Song.”

“I even made sure to pack a book, in case I get bored,” she added, dropping the bag to the ground so that she could pull out one of her most prized possessions, a book called The Fellowship of the Ring by a Terran named J. R. R. Tolkien. Rocket had helped her find it in the market just that morning, and he’d hunted for the other two books for over an hour when he’d learned it was only the first part of the story. They never found the other two books. Her book was obviously very old, the paper cover well-worn and torn in a few places, the pages were yellowed and creased. It was one of the very few books the Guardians had found that was written in Terran English, since Song still didn’t have a translator yet, and it was her most prized treasure.

“Kid.”

“Not that I’ll get bored, since this’ll be the first time I’ve ever traveled in space, that I know of, outside of a cage and I’ll actually get to see all the stars and planets and-“

“Song,” Rocket interrupted, squatting in front of her to gently take the book and place it back in her bag. “Kid, as much as I’d love to take ya with us, we’ve already talked about this.”

“Cap’n?” There was the sound of heavy boots stomping down the Bowie’s loading ramp. “We’re ready to go.”

At the same time, Song whined, “But Dad.” It’s not fair!

Kraglin paused halfway down the ramp, “Uh… we’ll give ya’ll a… a minute.” He retreated back up the loading ramp, stopping just long enough at the top to turn Adam around by the shoulders and usher him back into the ship. Adam watched over his shoulder with confusion on his golden face as they disappeared back into the Bowie.

Nebula elbowed Drax none too gently in the side, gesturing with a tilt of her head for them to give the two raccoons some space. Drax looked at her with confusion, rubbing his side as his expression turned a little offended that she would seemingly hurt him for no reason. Nebula rolled her black eyes, grabbed Drax by the elbow, and practically dragged him away a couple of yards.

At this point, Song really didn’t care what the others were doing. Rocket was leaving her. Yeah, he’d said he was coming back, but still…

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

Rocket took a breath, “Song.” He took the little bag and set it beside her, then reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, “It’s only gonna be for a few days.”

“But you’re still going away,” she mumbled, feeling the stupid tears trying to start. She’d been doing so much better about crying the last few weeks, but now… She shook her head, still refusing to look at him.

She’d been so focused on trying not to cry that she didn’t even hear Groot come down the loading ramp, which was a feat all in itself given how huge he was. “I am Groot,” he said softly as he knelt beside them, palm outstretched with another of his little white flowers already grown in the palm.

Song shook her head again, folding her arms tightly across her chest. If she took the flower now, then they would have no reason to wait on her. No reason to stay.

Rocket’s hand squeezed her shoulder, then he pulled her close.

“I am Groot,” Groot rumbled.

“Groot’s right, we’ll call every chance we get. Okay?”

“But it’s not the same!”

Rocket patted her back, his voice sounding torn, “I know, I know. But it’ll be over before we know it.”

“I am Groot.” Groot said, plucking the flower and Song understood him just enough to know that he’d asked for a hug, like he’d taken to doing every day before she went to bed.

She didn’t want to let go of Rocket, who seemed to know this. Carefully he pulled away from her and nudged her toward Groot. A tear did escape then.

“I am Groot,” Groot said softly, almost humming the words as the hand not holding the flower held her close to the side of his face.

“I l-love y-you t-too, Groot,” she hiccupped, nuzzling the side of her head against his cheek.

Rocket heaved a sigh and held his hand out toward Groot, who gave him the little flower.

“Go get on the Bowie, Groot. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Groot hummed as he gently patted the top of Song’s head with two fingers and rose to leave them. As he lumbered off, Rocket beckoned to Song to move closer again. With a free hand, he wiped away the tears. He didn’t say anything as he went to put the flower in the left side pocket of her little burgundy jumpsuit, the same color as the accents on the Guardians uniforms.

But then he stopped, and his face fell.

With disappointment.

“Song,” he sighed with exasperation. He tucked the flower into her other side pocket, then reached back into her left pocket and pulled out an ornate brooch they’d seen at the market just that morning. “How many times do I have to tell ya? You can’t take things that don’t belong to you.”

Song still didn’t look at him, “It’s not like anyone’s going to miss it. It was out in the open.”

Rocket tensed with frustration and Song felt absolutely horrible. She sniffed again, on the verge of sobbing.

Rocket’s hand cupped her chin and he lifted her face up so that he could meet her eyes. He looked disappointed alright, frustrated even, but not mad. Not yet. “I’ve told you a million times, things like these are out on display for people to look at so that they can buy it. That’s how Borden pays his bills.” He sighed, “When you take somethin’ from someone like this, you’re hurting them.”

She didn’t answer, just looked anywhere but at him which meant that she saw Drax come up to them when Rocket beckoned to him.

“Song, as soon as I leave, you and Drax are going straight to Borden’s stall, you’re gonna give this,” he lifted the brooch back up to try to make her look at it, “back to Borden, and you’re gonna apologize to him. And,” he reached back to hand said brooch to Drax, then lifted his pointer finger up and gently touched her nose, “if there is any chore he needs help with that you can do, you will do it. Understand?”

Song panicked, “You’re not going with me to take it back?”

Rocket’s ears swiveled, and his brows knit with some confusion. He shook his head, “We’ve gotta get going, kid. We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now.”

It was then that she broke down into sobs, darting forward to wrap her arms around his neck. She clung as tightly to him as she was capable of. Which was a little stronger than either of them expected.

“Can’t breathe, kid,” Rocket rasped, reaching up to loosen her hold a little. Then his voice softened to a whisper as he held her, “I’m not mad. And I’m not leaving because you messed up, okay?”

“O-kay. I-I l-love y-you, D-dad.”

“I love you too, kiddo.” He stood with her in his arms and moved to hand her up to Drax, who still hadn’t said anything.

Song, resigned, sat on Drax’s shoulder and looked down at Rocket. She rubbed her little eyes, “You’ll b-be careful?” Drax reached up and rubbed the top of her head.

Rocket smiled encouragingly and then gave her an exaggerated wink, “Always.” He started walking backwards toward the Bowie’s loading ramp, “You be sure to listen to Drax and Nebula. Don’t give ‘em any trouble.”

“Okay,” Song sniffed.

Rocket nodded, then looked over to Drax, “Drax, you and Nebs better take good care of my girl.”

“You have my word,” Drax answered seriously.

He turned to walk up the loading ramp, only to pause halfway up, “Make sure you wear your shoes!”

“No promises!” she snapped back cheekily, earning herself a laugh and an eye roll.

“We’ll make sure of it, Rocket,” Nebula interjected as she moved up to stand beside Drax. “You better make sure to check in.”

Rocket gave Nebula a mock salute, then disappeared into the Bowie. A few minutes later, the engines revved up and the ship lifted into the sky.

Drax looked at Nebula, "You didn't specify what time of day Rocket should check in either."

Nebula groaned and rolled her black eyes, not even bothering to answer him.

Drax, Nebula, and Song watched the Bowie as it grew smaller and eventually disappeared from view. Their eyes, lifted to the sky, didn’t catch the quick flash of light bouncing off metal as something slipped away from them and into the shadows to hide underneath one of the other docked ships.

“Somethin’ on your mind, Cap’n?”

Rocket, who’d been staring at the stars without blinking, shook himself, “M’fine, Kraglin.”

“That little girl a yours gonna be okay?”

Rocket sighed, giving Kraglin a withering look, “Drax and Nebs are looking after her. What do you think?”

Kraglin, seated in the co-pilot’s seat to Rocket’s right, shrugged, “Seemed ta me like she didn’ take too well ta you leavin’.”

He rolled his eyes, looking forward again at the stars straight ahead as a weird ache grew in his chest, “No, but she ain’t been away from me once since she fell out of the air duct, Krag. Not like this.”

Kraglin hummed, then stated simply, “You ain’t takin’ it too well neither, Cap.”

Rocket shot him a look and Kraglin held up both hands in a peaceful gesture, “I’m just sayin’, can’t be easy leavin’ her behind. Or Drax and Nebula neither.”

“Drax and Nebs can take care of themselves and they can take care of Song.”

“Well, yeah. But it ain’t wrong ta miss your kid and the rest a your family, Cap. Jus’ sayin’.”

Rocket rolled his eyes, even though he knew Kraglin was right. So that’s the feeling I’ve been getting. It had only felt weird because it was… familiar, but also not. His chest ached almost like it had after The Snap, just not as strongly. One hand went to his chest and he took a moment to take a deep breath. “Like I told Song, it’s just for a few days. I’m more worried about her stealing. I’ve tried everything I can to get her to stop and nothing’s worked.”

Kraglin laughed, “Didn’ you used ta steal, like, what? All the time?”

“Yeah, and the last time almost killed my family, got us stranded on Berhert, got most of your Ravager clan killed, and almost killed you and Yondu.”

Kraglin looked thoughtful, which wasn’t a look the man got much, “I think… I think Taserface woulda found a way ta do all a that eventually. Besides, without them batteries we all woulda kicked the bucket on Ego’s planet. Your stealin’ always seemed ta save the day. It’s like… It’s like ya know what we need, without actually knowing. Ya know?”

Rocket snorted, opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. Holy hell, he’s right! He shook his head, stunned into silence. Lylla’s words flitted briefly across his mind. You still have a purpose…

Kraglin kept going, “Anyhows, all Song steals are little things that don’t cost much even though they look like they do, from what I can see.”

Rocket shook his head again, “It’s still not a good habit for her to have, Krag. It’s… Ugh!” He shook his head, trying to clear it and trying to find the right words, “Just because everything turned out alright for me so far doesn’t mean that I’ll keep being lucky.” He paused, “And Song sure as hell ain’t a mechanic like me. The kid can tell you the entire history of the Terran English language but she still can’t tell the difference between a nail and a screw.”

Kraglin laughed, remembering the day of that particular failed lesson.

Rocket himself couldn’t hold back from chuckling at that memory either. He huffed, “Besides, that’s not the point, Kraglin. I’m worried that her stealing will get to the point that no one on Knowhere will trust her… I don’t want that for her.”

“Holy hell.”

“What?”

“Ya ever noticed that you usually go wit’ her ta return what thing she stole?” Kraglin looked stunned, like he’d just figured the mystery of the universe, or something.

Rocket’s brows knit in confusion, “Well, yeah. I’m her dad. Kind of my responsibility to…” His eyes widened, “Wait a minute, are you saying that she steals things so that I’ll spend time with her?”

“Or that you’ll stay home on Knowhere instead a goin’ traipsin’ through the galaxy on a job.”

Rocket plopped back into the backrest of his pilot’s seat, “Huh. That’s a weird reason to steal.” He shook his head. Never in a million years would I have thought that.

“Maybe not ta a little girl like Song. Maybe she does it ta make sure you ain’t goin’ nowhere? She did say once that High Evolution’ry took her sister away by herself and she never saw her again.”

“You’re saying she does it ‘cause she’s still scared.”

“That she’s gonna lose ya too? Well, yeah. I mean, it’s been years an’ I still have nightmares of Taserface killin’ Tullk and the rest a my friends. Bad memories don’t just go away easy. You know that better’n I do.”

Rocket’s ears flattened as he thought about Batch 89 and the five years after The Snap, “Yeah.”

Kraglin wasn’t done, “The way I see it, Song thinks she can stop herself from losin’ you too. That by stealin’, she’ll have… control over what might happen. Poor kid don’t understand that ain’t none of us can control a thing what happens ta us. Jus’ how we react ta it.”

“You know, you are a lot smarter than you look.”

Kraglin made a show of looking very pleased with himself, almost to the point of preening, “Aw, Cap. Stop. Ya gonna make me blush.”

Rocket snorted again, rolling his eyes as he threw an empty wrapper from lunch at Kraglin’s head.

Come And Get Your Love blasted from the Zune’s speakers as Rocket led the Guardians against the herd. He yelled as his aero rig activated and threw him forward, gun blazing, the others running or flying behind him. Just as he’d thought, Adam soared ahead under his own power, blasting away at the animals. Phylla hung back just to Rocket’s left as he’d told her to, also blasting away. Sure he’d told Song that Phylla was strong, but she was still a kid and Rocket didn’t want to put her directly in harm’s way.

Kraglin and Cosmo both paused halfway from where they’d started and the herd's position, making sure to give themselves a good vantage point for his arrow and her telekinesis.

Kraglin’s piercing whistle sounded and the red arrow zipped in front of Phylla, then Rocket, then through an animal off to Groot’s side, leaving it's telltale red trace.

Groot bowled over about five of the unfortunate creatures as Cosmo’s powers picked up ten more and slammed them into the ground where they lay unmoving.

Rocket zipped to Groot to perch on his shoulder, blasting more of the creatures before they had a chance to overwhelm him and Phylla. Phylla’s blaster flashed taking out a creature that had tried to leap at Rocket’s perch.

They fought like this for what felt like hours, but in reality the fight was over before Come And Get Your Love was.

Phylla looked around them, at all the dead creatures. “That was… fast.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket shrugged, activating the aero rig to lower himself from Groot’s shoulder to the ground. That was one thing he missed from when Groot had been around Quill’s height, the ability to just jump onto his shoulder. Having to use the aero rig to get up there was kind of annoying.

“Better over quickly than one of you guys get hurt.” He looked pointedly at Phylla, “You’re still not watching your right flank like I told you to, kid.”

“Isn’t that what you call Song?” Phylla asked, curious.

Rocket shook his head, he hadn’t even noticed the slip until she’d pointed it out. They’d been away from Knowhere for over three days now, waiting on the herd to show up. “Yeah, sorry Phylla.” He walked over to one of the dead creatures, took a deep sniff, and winced as he poked at it with the end of his blaster, “I still can’t believe you want to try eating these things, Kraglin. They stink.”

“It’s supposed ta be a delicacy in some places,” Kraglin responded with a shrug.

“What places are you thinking of, Comrade?” Cosmo asked with disbelief.

Rocket looked at her like she was crazy, “Cosmo. Are you really gonna say that? After the things we’ve seen you eat?”

“Yeah, that dead orloni was disgusting,” Adam pointed out, his furry F’saki pet winding itself around his legs. He picked Blurp up and proceeded to scratch the top of it's head.

Phylla just looked at him blankly, “What about the stuff you feed Blurp, Adam?”

Groot rumbled, laughing his booming laugh.

Rocket rolled his eyes and nearly jumped out of his skin when his communicator let out a high, squealing, staticky sound. The whole Guardians team winced, the sound coming through their coms too.

“Captain… hear… attack,” came Marcus’ voice, broken into pieces by more of the squealing static.

“Marcus?” Rocket asked, hurriedly pulling the com out of his ear and making adjustments to the volume so that the rest of the team could hear. They focused on him and the com in his hand as they removed their own coms.

“Captain… thank god… trying to reach…”

Rocket tinkered with the com, trying to boost the signal, “Marcus, what’s going on?”

“Attacked… night… jamming signal… tried…” The link to Knowhere went dead.

“Marcus!” He tried another link, “Nebula?” Nothing. Then another, “Drax?!”

Absolute silence.

Song.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Phylla moved closer to Rocket, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Rocket?”

“I am Groot?”

He didn’t answer, staring at the com in his hand with his heart in his throat.

“Joob joob?”

He gasped, then looked at all of them, “We gotta go. Now.”

Chapter Text

A few hours earlier…

Song sat in the middle of Drax’s huge bed as she waited for him to change. She wrung her little hands, fidgeted a moment more, then crawled to the edge of the bed. Her ears flattened when she looked over the edge and realized just how far it was to the floor. She gulped, then scooted back to the middle of the bed. She’d done that all three nights she’d stayed with Drax, even though she knew the… hugeness of his room wasn’t going to change. She wished they could just stay in Rocket’s room, but there was just not enough space. Yeah, Groot had stayed there a few nights in the early days, but he was also pretty good at curling up. Drax, as muscly as he was, just wasn’t capable of that. And while Nebula was kind to her, even to the point of doing her best to awkwardly dote on Song, she just wasn’t good at calming Song down when she had a nightmare or started missing Rocket. Drax did decent enough, but it still wasn’t the same.

She really missed Rocket. She missed his scent, his exasperated sighs, his humming. She missed how he held her as she fell asleep. A big fat tear rolled down her face and she brought both little fists up to rub her eyes.

Before she knew it, Drax was back and had scooped her up in his big hands. Hands that were both easily bigger than her. He brought her to his shoulder and swayed a little, completely non-rhythmically of course.

“Your dad will back tomorrow, Song,” he stated matter-of-factly, the finger-pads of one hand patting her back gently.

She tried to relax where she was, splayed on her stomach on his shoulder. It was kind of comforting, in a way. More than a few times over the past few weeks she’d woken draped on Groot’s, Drax’s, Nebula’s, or Kraglin’s shoulder, panicking when she couldn’t see Rocket. Only to realize he’d been working on something mechanical that required his full attention, while whoever held her was keeping him company.

Babysittin’, was what Kraglin had called it. Song hadn’t really cared for the word the first time she’d heard it and she’d immediately pointed out, once she’d stopped panicking and was standing by Rocket with her fingers gripping his belt of course, that she was in no way a baby and didn’t need ‘sitting’. Whatever that was. Rocket had laughed so hard that he’d actually had to put his tools down.

She propped herself up on Drax’s shoulder and gave him a shrewd glare, “Things happen, Drax. And he hasn’t called since yesterday.”

Drax was quiet a moment. Then, “Well, of course things happen, but that does not mean that what does happen is automatically bad. Good things happen too, Song.”

“Dad leaving me is not good, Drax.”

He sighed, settling into a huge piece of furniture that he’d called a rocking chair. It was something he’d insisted on having once he’d agreed to help care for the Star Children. Song hadn’t understood the reason behind the weird piece of furniture, she still didn’t, but she did have to admit that it felt nice when Drax starting rocking her. Almost calming.

However, Song did not want to be calm.

“Song. Rocket did not ‘leave’ you. He is the Captain of the Guardians now. There are many people out in the galaxy that need the Guardians. We have spoken about this more than once.”

“But I need him.”

“That is true too. But you also have myself and Nebula. Cana and even Howard dote on you as well.”

“I don’t want to be doted on. I just want Dad.”

He hummed, “It’s okay to be scared Song.”

She glared at him, “I’m not scared Drax.”

Drax’s ice blue eyes met her gaze, “Everyone is scared, at some point in their lives. Fear is not something to be ashamed of. I myself am afraid of Groot playing with my things.”

Song just looked at him, head cocked to the side. “Groot has never touched your belongings.”

“He used to. All the time, when he was just a little bit smaller than you. And he did break a few things.”

“But things can be fixed or replaced, Drax,” Song admonished, copying what Rocket had told her that first night, when she’d knocked his key card and other belongings off his desk. “Nobody got hurt.”

“True. But even if someone is hurt, they will heal.”

“Unless they’re injured too badly. That does happen.” The memory of Sister and her surgery scars, more prominent than Song’s, popped into her head and she shivered.

“It does,” Drax conceded, patting her back again. “However, your dad is more than capable of defending himself. And he is not alone. Should he become injured, he will be alright. The others will see to it.”

Drax’s com chimed and Song slid down his shoulder to his knee, then hopped the remaining distance to the floor. She landed on her hands and knees and scrambled to stand, then raced as fast as she could to the base of his huge dresser, on top of which rested his communicator. She readied herself to climb the dresser, but Drax was already behind her, scooping her up again before he activated the com.

Rocket’s image came to life in front of them. He was sitting in what looked like the pilot’s chair of the Bowie and looking very annoyed. Wherever he was, the sun was shining and it looked like it was probably the middle of the day.

“Dada!” Song squealed happily, stuttering over the word and accidentally giving it an extra syllable in her rush to greet him. Her eyes went wide, but neither Drax nor Rocket seemed to notice the slip.

Well, Rocket did. The annoyance disappeared from his face as he smiled at her and his ears pricked towards her as he leaned forward to rest his arms on the Bowie’s flight controls, “Hey, kiddo. You being good for Drax?”

“Mhmm. When are you coming back home?”

Annoyance flickered over his features briefly. His brows knitted, “Shouldn’t be too much longer. Definitely before you go to bed tomorrow night though.”

“I had assumed you and the others were traveling back tonight and would arrive in the morning,” Drax interjected.

Rocket rolled his eyes, “That was the plan, but the herd we’re waiting on seems to be runnin’ a little late. My scanners are showing they’re a few hours out now.”

Song looked quizzically at him, “Couldn’t you just go to them?”

He shrugged, “Technically, yeah. But at this point they’re goin’ through some kind of canyon and cavern system that makes it damn near impossible to get a target lock on ‘em.” He flinched, “Song, don’t-“

Song nodded seriously. “I won’t say that word, Dada,” she finished, trying the new term out again and trying to gauge Rocket’s reaction to it.

His eyes went soft, “You better not, kid. At least not until you’re grown, ‘kay?”

“’Kay.”

A beeping sound came from Rocket’s side of the transmission, “Look, I gotta few… repairs to make to the Bowie before the herd shows up. Adam tried to…” he rolled his eyes again, “show off and he blew out the joints in one of the landing struts.”

Song stiffened. She hadn’t understood a word of what Rocket had said, but that sounded pretty serious judging by his tone.

“Everyone is alright?” Drax asked.

Rocket huffed again, resting an elbow on the flight controls as he rubbed his forehead, “Yeah, it’s just gonna be a nightmare to get the repairs done quickly enough to make it home in time, is all. Adam keeps trying to offer to help, but there ain’t no frickin' way I’m letting him near my tools after what just happened.” He snorted, “I’ve got him outside practicin’ his aim, even though he really doesn’t need it. He just needs to pay frickin’ attention. Got him facing away from the Bowie, though, so there’s that.”

“Phylla is well equipped to help,” Drax suggested.

“Yeah, but she’s supposed to be practicin’ with Kraglin. She keeps leaving her right flank open and I’m trying to break her of it. Cosmo and Groot are gonna keep the Bowie stable while I work on it.”

Before Song could ask where her big brother was, there was the sound of wood creaking, then a rumbled deep voice called out from just outside the range of Rocket’s com, “I am Groot!”

“I miss you too, Groot,” Song chirped, then laughed when her big brother’s head came in from the side and filled the entire image. He gave her a goofy grin and she returned it.

“Alright, alright,” came Rocket’s muffled voice from behind Groot’s massive head. “You’re crowding me outta my chair, Groot! Get your dumbass head offa me!”

Drax laughed uncontrollably as Groot seemingly shrugged, though it was hard to tell as his shoulders weren’t in the projection, and moved out of view.

Rocket, who looked tousled, almost like he’d been squished, which he probably had been, glared waspishly in the direction Groot had retreated to, “How many times do I have to frickin’ tell ya, Groot? You ain’t little any more.”

“I am Groot.”

“I know you wanted to say hello to your sister, you idiot.” He wagged a finger in Groot’s direction, irritation in his voice, “All you had to do was ask me to turn the com towards you.” He shook his head, “Seriously.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket rolled his eyes again, “Unbelievable.”

“You okay, Dada?”

Rocket paused, and then looked back at her, “Yeah. I’m okay, kiddo. Just gotta teach your brother what personal space is, apparently.”

“I miss you both.”

“I am Groot.”

“Miss you too, kid.” He looked up to meet the Kylosian’s eyes, “She hasn’t stolen anything else since we left, has she?”

Drax looked proudly down at Song, “Not a thing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Nebula has kept an eye on her as well.”

“Good.” Rocket turned his attention back to Song as he leaned against the flight controls again, “Keep being good for Drax and Nebula, okay? We’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Okay. Dada?”

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t make it in time for my bedtime tomorrow, can I stay up to wait for you?”

“As long as you’re in bed by midnight, I don’t see why not. But,” he lifted a finger, “normal bedtime tonight.”

“Okay,” she nodded, fighting back a yawn. She rubbed one eye, “I love you, Dada.” Song liked how ‘Dada’ sounded and, since Rocket didn’t seem to be bothered by it, she figured it would be okay to keep calling him that.

“Love you too, kiddo.”

“I am Groot!” Groot huffed, apparently very offended that Song had seemingly forgotten about him.

Rocket groaned, lifting his hand again, this time to cover his eyes. Then he reached forward with his other hand and turned the com to let it focus on Groot.

Song gave a sleepy chuckle, “You’re too big to forget, Groot. I love you too.”

The image jerked to the side again, this time showing a close-up image of Rocket. “Be good,” he admonished. “See you tomorrow.”

The com cut out.

Song nuzzled into Drax’s shoulder and was out before he even had a chance to lay down on the bed.

Song jerked awake to the screeching of metal and the booming sound of a large explosion. Drax was already up, slipping on his boots and sliding his knives into the loops on his belt.

He went to reach for Song, paused, then grabbed a dark green shirt out of the dresser instead. He winced as he quickly pulled it over himself, shaking his head in irritation. Then, just as quickly, he scooped Song up to put her on his left shoulder.

Song froze where he’d placed her as another explosion sounded, “D-drax? W-what-“

“I do not know yet, Song. Hold onto my shirt so that you do not fall. And whatever you do, do not let go.”

“D-drax?”

He didn’t answer, just strode out of his room and into the hallway.

Nebula almost ran into them, “You hear it too?”

“Yes, I am taking Song to get the idiot children and get them to the safehouse.”

Nebula nodded, her hand going to her ear as Drax continued towards the back door of the building. Drax froze when she swore. Song fully expected both Drax and Nebula to tell her not to repeat the bad words, but they didn’t.

That made her even more scared than she already was.

“Coms are dead, Drax,” Nebula was saying. “Someone’s jamming us.”

“This is a planned attack then.”

Nebula nodded, looking worried. Song couldn’t remember a time that her aunt had looked this worried. No, that’s not right. I’ve never seen her worried.

“A-attack? Drax? N-nebula?”

Nebula’s head snapped up to meet Song’s gaze. “It’s going to be fine, Song,” she said blandly. “Drax, get her out of here. I’m going to find out what is going on, find Marcus, and try to get the coms back online.”

Drax nodded, “Be careful.”

“You too.”

“Nebula!” Song screeched as the Luphomoid raced off toward the front door.

“Shh,” Drax hushed her, his hand on the controls for the building’s back door. He turned his head to look Song in the eye. “It is time to be silent.”

“D-drax, w-what is g-going o-on?”

He paused, hand still on the door controls, “We are under attack. By whom and for what reason, I do not know. But,” he reached up to offer his other hand to her and she gripped his pointer finger and held on for dear life, “I will protect you. In order for me to do so, though, I will need you to be quiet. Can you do that?”

Song gulped, now gripping the first two fingers of his hand tightly in her own little hands. She nodded.

“O-okay.”

“Do not let go of my shirt,” he said, pulling his hand out of her grasp so that he could pull out one of his long knives.

Song felt her heart hammer in her chest, “D-drax, what a-about D-Dada? And G-Groot. And-”

“Nebula will reach out to them. We have to be quiet, Song. We do not want to draw unnecessary attention.”

Another booming explosion went off, this time a lot closer. Then several more explosions started and they sounded to Song like they would never stop. She gripped the dark green fabric of Drax’s shirt so tightly that she was sure her claws were poking holes in the material.

Drax hit the door controls, looked out the door, then stepped out into the explosion filled night.

Chapter Text

Presently…

More static.

Rocket cursed, banging his fist on the console. He’d hoped that, given how much more powerful the Bowie’s coms were than their individual earpieces, he’d have enough power to break through whatever was interfering with Knowhere’s communications. No such luck.

By now, the Bowie had broken through atmo and was headed for the first jump with Kraglin piloting. The half-fixed bad landing joint be damned. Given how dire things were Phylla had tried to offer to pilot instead as, like Rocket, she’d been engineered to pilot spacecraft. However, Rocket and Kraglin had both pointed out that experience trumped instinct.

And Rocket didn’t want to risk any potential delays, not now. The only reason he wasn’t piloting himself was that he had to get the coms working. He had to.

All the rest of the members of the Guardians were strapped into their seats in the cockpit, completely silent and uneasy. None of them seemed to know what to say or do, aside from Groot.

“I am Groot.”

“Mantis is bound to be hundreds of jump-points further away from Knowhere than we are, Groot,” Rocket responded, voice strained.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket didn’t respond, just keyed in Mantis’ code.

Nothing.

Freakin’ nothing. Again.

“Rocket…” Finally Mantis’ voice came through, but with so much static that Rocket barely could hear his own name. “…hear me?”

“Just barely Mant. I need you to go back to Knowhere. Now.”

“Aww… you too…” Clearly, Mantis could hear less of him than he could of her. Wherever she was, there was just no way a clear signal would get to her. And what she could hear seemed to be making her think that he just missed her.

Which of course he did but that was the furthest thing from his mind in that moment.

He sighed. “Be careful,” he admonished, knowing that she probably couldn’t hear him anyway, and shut off the link.

“Terra’s too far, Cap,” Kraglin spoke, reading his mind. “All we’d be doing right now would be keepin’ Pete in the loop. Not much he can do ta help.”

Rocket nodded. He really would rather have called Quill, but Kraglin was right. They passed through the jump-point and Kraglin fiddled with the control panel, lining them up for the next fifty.

“Joob joob?” Rocket’s ears laid back at Phylla’s voice. She sounded scared. Right before they’d left was the first time in a long time that she’d spoken the unusual language that the High Evolutionary had created for his more promising subjects. The fact that she was speaking that language again set him on edge.

“Phylla, I know you’re scared, but speaking like that is not helping.”

“I’m sorry, Rocket. I’m just…” she trailed off.

Rocket deflated. She was worried about her brothers and sisters, just as much as he was worried about Song, and Nebula, and Drax, and everyone else.

Every member of the team was worried and, given the whimpering coming from the direction of Adam’s chair, even Blurp knew something was wrong.

He relaxed in the pilot’s seat, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know.” He didn’t turn to look back at them, just kept his eyes on the first of the upcoming jump-points. “I know all of you are worried but sittin’ up here panicking ain’t gonna do any good. Go below, get something to eat, get some rest. More than likely we’ll be arriving in the middle of a battle and all of you will need to be ready.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yes, you too, Groot. Go.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cosmo answered, the only one to respond.

They all filed out and Rocket forced himself to take several deep breaths, tried to force the panic as far down as he could.

“What about Thor, Cap?”

“He’s probably on some soul-searching diplomatic mission, Krags.”

“Yeah, but didn’t you tell me before that that axe a his can get him anywhere he wants ta go?”

Rocket turned and gave him an incredulous look. Kraglin didn’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed ahead on the Bowie’s controls and the jump-points they were hurtling through.

“Yeah, okay. And how exactly will he get to Knowhere, Kraglin, when he’s never been there in the first place? Oh, and I think you might have forgotten this, but we constantly keep it on the move!”

Kraglin did look at him then, looking irritated, “First off, Cap. I’m only tryin’ ta help. Besides, you told me he ain’t never went ta Wakanda before, but he managed ta get you and Groot there just fine.”

“A country on a planet he’s already been to is one thing, Kraglin. A moving space station in a galactic quadrant he’s never been to is completely different!”

“We gotta try somethin’, Cap. I’m just as worried about your little ‘un and our friends as you.”

Rocket grumbled to himself, but he keyed in the code to the com he’d cobbled together for Thor back on Nidavellir.

No answer. No frickin’ answer. Just the chime that indicated the line was ready to record a message. Even though it was probably a long shot that the blonde bonehead would get the message in time, Rocket spewed out the last known coordinates to Knowhere, then rambled in a panic when he realized that might not work. Then, not really knowing if Thor's axe worked that way, he told Thor to 'just find Drax and Nebula'.

By the time he'd shut off the link they were traveling through uninhabited space, the next set of jump-points over an hour away.

Rocket resisted the temptation to rip his fur out and instead set about trying to make what improvements he could to the Bowie’s communications systems.

Song’s little voice played in the back of his mind. Dada! When are you coming home? I love you, Dada.

He was supposed to be protecting her.

He sighed, forcing himself to stay focused. I’m coming, kiddo. Just hold on.

He tried telling himself that she would be fine. That Drax and Nebs, the kids, the animals, everyone would be okay.

They had to be.

A few hours earlier…

The explosions were a lot louder outside. Song resisted the urge to press her hands over her ears and gripped Drax’s shirt even tighter as he made his way down the back alleys to the Star Children’s quarters. Another explosion sounded and she almost bit her tongue as she forced herself not to shriek. Drax had made it very clear that they had to be quiet.

Both knives were in his hands as he raced through an open space. Something tackled him from behind and he stumbled and fell. Song shrieked as the force of the tackle ripped her claws from the shoulder of his shirt and sent her tumbling, head over heels, for several feet through the dusty back street.

Song finally came to a stop, sprawled on her stomach. She lifted her head and screeched in fear again as she saw what had knocked them down.

It was easily almost as big as Drax himself, some kind of cobbled together mechanical monster that walked on four spider-like legs that were joined to the middle of the cylindrical body. It looked like it had been pieced together with several different types of metal, mostly dull but with a few shiny pieces here and there. It had the Kylosian pinned under it, but somehow Drax had managed to flip himself over onto his back and was gripping two extensions that looked like the barrels of two very large guns. Dada said they’re called cannons. Red lights flickered all around the thing’s cylindrical body, gears whining as the thing tried to rotate the barrels down toward Drax’s head. It succeeded in pressing down for just a moment and the whirring sound increased.

Drax yelled, and, with a seemingly herculean effort, wrenched the cannon barrels skyward. Two missiles shot into the sky, exploding loudly over their heads with a burst of light brighter than a sun. The whole back alley lit up so brightly that Song squinted where she was, cowering on the ground with her limbs and tail tucked under her.

“Song, go!” Drax yelled as he yanked the cannon barrels suddenly sideways, and they snapped off the thing’s body with the squeal of twisting metal. He managed to bring one of his legs up under the thing and kicked it off of him. It didn’t fall back but only lifted up high enough that all four of its mechanical legs straightened, but that gave Drax enough room to get out from underneath it and frantically grasp for his knives.

Before he could reach his weapons, the thing reared back on two of its legs and lifted the other two in an attempt drive the pointed ends through Drax. He managed to duck under them and reached up, grasping the limbs in much the same way he’d grasped the cannon barrels.

“Song! RUN! Get to the safehouse!” Drax yelled, straining against the mechanical monster. A high-pitched sound came from the main body of the thing, almost like a pained scream.

Song was still frozen where she’d landed, but she clamped her hands over her ears as the sound increased in frequency, becoming so high-pitched that the sound seemed to be cutting through her brain. It peeled off finally and left her ears ringing. The screech was replaced by the sound of more gears whirring. Gears that didn’t belong to the thing fighting Drax.

The thing had called for help.

“DRAX!” Song called for him, the scream so loud it ripped through her throat on its way out and left it feeling raw. Her ears pinned back and her little hands gripped the dirt under her, her body refusing to move.

“GO!” he yelled back.

More deafening explosions sounded from nearby and the ground rocked under Song, tossing her up several inches. She landed on her side, the breath knocked out of her. Another mechanical monster, not quite as big as the one fighting Drax, rushed at her. She screeched, pulled herself up, and raced on all fours toward some dumpsters. The thing followed, laser blast going off and hitting the ground just bare inches from her tail.

Song screamed, ducking under a dumpster and shivering as she curled up. The dumpster was lifted into the air and three of the monsters threw it away from them and it landed with a huge crash and more screeching of twisting metal. She squealed and, still running on all fours, wove between one’s legs before she realized, too late, that she was going in the wrong direction. She was headed towards the main street that passed in front of the Guardians quarters. She couldn’t turn back as the three monsters were just a breath behind her.

The main street was crawling with mechanical monsters of varying sizes, ranging from just bigger than Rocket to the size of the one that had tackled Drax.

DADA! HELP ME!

Song’s heart leapt into her throat and she skidded sideways, barely missing hitting another monster’s leg. It didn’t register her, too intent on firing into a nearby building. One of the three chasing her fired it’s laser at her again but missed, hitting the body of the thing she’d just slid under. The monster exploded behind her and she shrieked again as the blast threw her forward.

As she ran, Song tried to find anywhere she could hide. An open door she could race through, another dumpster she could duck behind. But everywhere her wild eyes looked, there was the cobbled together metal of the monsters attacking people and trying to break into the buildings.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her, and she growled, clawing and biting.

“Yeesh, rugrat! Calm down!”

She froze, ears and tail flicking. Howard?

It was Howard alright. He tucked her under his arm as his other hand fired his pistol at the leader of the things chasing her. Three quick shots sounded, all of which hit the monsters center mass, and the things tumbled over inertly, sizzling and sparking and spitting smoke.

The commotion drew the attention of at least ten or more monsters.

Howard took off, away from the monsters.

And away from the safehouse.

He dodged around back alleys and away from more laser blasts, turning his head back only quick enough to return fire every few seconds or so. Song latched onto his shirt with her claws, heart hammering as she whimpered.

After what felt like an eternity of running and dodging, Song realized they were at the marketplace. The commotion and explosions sounded different here, further away.

The fighting hadn’t made it this far. Not yet.

Howard ducked into a recessed doorway, panting hard.

“H-howard?”

“Sh!” he hissed. The last of the monsters who’d been chasing them scurried around the corner they’d just turned and raced past them. As it did, Howard squeezed off a shot and the thing toppled over, smoking and sizzling just like the others had.

He froze, pistol extended and ready and Song whimpered. Several more explosions sounded farther off, near the Guardians’ headquarters. Howard panted, catching his breath, but stayed on the alert.

No more monsters appeared.

“Looks like we shook ‘em for now, rugrat.”

Song didn’t answer, just shivered in his hold.

And then more mechanical whirring echoed down the alleyway.

“Howard!” came a terse whisper from a few doors down.

Howard raced forward toward the darkened doorway that the whisper had come from and shoved Song into Cana’s waiting hands. “Keep her here, I’ll try to lead them off,” he whispered hurriedly.

“H-howard,” Song whimpered. She thought of Drax, alone and surrounded by those things and she was terrified that the same thing would happen to Howard.

That the same thing was happening to Nebula. To everyone.

“Ain’t nobody got my number yet, rugrat. I’m not about to let it happen now.” Then he took off in the direction of the increasingly louder mechanical whirring, yelling insults.

“C-Cana?”

“Hush, little one,” Cana whispered, hurrying towards the back of her store. She stomped on one of the metal floorboards and pulled back as the board retracted into the one beside it, revealing a small hidden compartment with some kind of control mechanism at the bottom. Cana reached down and, holding Song with one hand, tapped a few buttons on the control mechanism. A trapdoor swung up, revealing a darkened stairwell that was lit up by the ever-increasing explosions.

Song hooked her claws in Cana’s top and whimpered as they descended into the darkness. Cana hit a switch on the wall and soft red light filled the small space as the trapdoor swung down and locked in place.

Song whimpered louder.

“Shh, little one. We’re safe.”

“W-what i-if th-they f-find us?”

“There’s more than one way out of here,” Cana said, lifting a hand to tap at another control mechanism that was almost hidden on the back wall. As her hand hit the first button, the red light illuminating the room flickered, then went out.

Cana huffed in a panic as she tapped the buttons. Nothing happened. She slammed her wrinkled fist against the mechanism. Again, nothing happened.

They were trapped in the dark.

The ground and walls shook with another, closer, explosion.

Song cried.

Presently…

Rocket’s eyes widened and his ears flattened to his skull. He sucked in a sharp, almost panicked breath. Beside him in the copilot’s seat, Kraglin gasped.

They’d just exited the last jump-point near Knowhere, had just entered the back of the skull through the gaping hole meant for docking ships.

Guardians’ headquarters and everything around it including a good part of the marketplace, where most of the people and refugees of Knowhere lived, was on fire.

Rocket couldn’t breathe.

Everywhere he looked, there were mechanical monstrosities of varying sizes that were firing lasers and frickin’ missiles on his home and the people and animals that lived there. Most of them were centered around what was left of his family’s bunk, but there were others strewn out haphazardly everywhere.

“Adam!” he yelled into the Bowie’s internal com. “Get out there! Now!” He didn’t even wait for a response, just flicked the controls from Kraglin over to himself.

“The landing strut-“ Kraglin started to shout.

Rocket ignored him. He aimed the Bowie for the biggest open space that would fit it and hit the reverse thrusters.

The ship slammed to a stop so hard that he and Kraglin were both thrown against their crash webbing. Further down in the ship he heard a yelled “I AM GROOT!” along with Phylla’s and Cosmo’s yelps of surprise.

Not even bothering to activate the remaining landing gear, Rocket set the Bowie down and ignored the screams of tortured metal as the base of the hull strained and twisted against the hard ground.

He unclasped his crash webbing and pulled his cannon off his back and extended it, also activating his Aero-Rig in the same movement. He stood in the pilot's chair, aimed the cannon at the Bowie’s forward viewport, ignored Kraglin’s yelling and shot, then soared through the shattered and falling glass.

Chapter Text

Rocket dodged laserfire and missiles, soaring towards Guardians’ headquarters where the fighting was the thickest.

Where his home was.

And where Drax had been keeping Song.

He returned fire with his autocannon while he forced himself to stay calm. Yes, normally Drax rushed headfirst into battles without any thought to his safety. But with Song to protect, who was more defenseless and helpless than Groot had ever been once he’d left his little ceramic pot, Drax would have headed to the safehouse with the rest of the children and any of the refugees who were unable to fight.

Song's safe. Drax got her to safety. He repeated those two sentences over and over to himself. He had to believe it, or he would lose his frickin’ mind.

He soared closer to the ground. Being this close to the things attacking his home made him a better target but he had to find Nebula. He needed to find Nebula.

Knowing Nebs, she’d have immediately tried to get communications back up and that meant she’d probably, hopefully, be somewhere close to the communications array and Marcus’ office.

Hopefully.

One of the mechanical monsters tilted it’s chassis up, as if watching him. It’s two cannon barrels started to swing up to take aim. Without missing a beat, Rocket’s fingers squeezed the trigger and the monster immediately blew up the moment it was hit. Just like the rest he’d fired on.

These things have horrible armor. Before he had time to think about what that might mean, he finally caught sight of Nebula.

He soared close to her, hovering over her shoulder. They fought back-to-back, leaving a path of twisted metal and destruction in their wake.

“You got Marcus’ message, then.” It wasn’t a question.

Rocket shouted back to be heard over the whirring of gears and booms of cannonfire and explosions, “Just barely! What the frick happened?!”

Nebula huffed, unable to answer immediately as her arm shifted from cannon to sword, and back again. The frickin’ things were everywhere, some of the smaller ones were even crawling up the sides of the blazing buildings as smoke hung heavy in the air.

Adam soared overhead, blasting away the things surrounding him and Nebula and giving them a moment to breathe.

“We had no warning,” Nebula stated softly, barely flinching as her ankle snapped back into place. “Marcus discovered one of these…” she gestured around them, “things in the control room for the defense systems. It had wired itself into place and disabled the perimeter alarms, the defense cannons… even took out communications. By the time he was able to destroy it, it was already too late. We were already under attack.” She motioned to the building she’d been trying to guard, “He and some of his crew are trying to fix the damage.”

“And Song?”

Nebula shrugged and Rocket felt terror grip him. “I’m not sure. The last I saw her, Drax was taking her out the backdoor of the bunker to get the Children and take them all to the safehouse.” Nebula looked troubled, “However, I saw Drax out in the streets after that. He was outnumbered.” She took a deep breath, “I think he’s alright, but I wasn’t able to get to him. That was almost an hour ago.”

“He probably got the kids to the safehouse and then came back out to help. You know how he can’t resist a good fight,” Rocket reasoned, trying to be hopeful but he couldn’t shake the sick feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach.

Nebula offered a tremulous half-smile, “I’m sure you’re right.”

I hope so, Rocket thought with a grimace. “Still, if Drax is out here fightin’, that means nobody is guarding the safehouse. I’ll go check that way.” By the time he finished speaking, Adam had already cleared the entire main street of the things and shot toward them, pulling up and hovering with his feet inches above the ground. “Adam, you stick with Nebula. Find Kraglin, Phylla, and Groot, and work your way out from a central spot. Clear these things out and see what you can do about the fires. If you see Cosmo, send her to the safehouse.”

“Yes, Captain. Are you going to find Song?”

Rocket gave him a look and Adam laughed. “I suppose that was a dumb question.” How the boy could laugh at a time like this…

Rocket rolled his eyes and didn’t answer, just jetted off toward the safehouse.

Hours had passed since Cana and Song had become trapped. Song had cried until her eyes ached and her throat hurt. When she had felt like she couldn’t cry anymore, she had curled up on Cana’s shoulder and sniffed, tears silently falling.

“Shh, little one,” Cana murmured for what felt like the hundredth time, one hand softly stroking Song’s back.

“A-are w-we g-going t-to d-d-die?” Song whispered, barely able get the words out through her hiccups.

“Absolutely not, little one,” Cana soothed. “We’re safe here until the fighting’s over.”

“And then what?”

“Then Howard and Nebula and Drax will come for us.”

“And Dada?” Song asked hopefully.

“Maybe. He was supposed to be on his way home by now, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he said so. And Dada always keeps his word,” Song responded firmly.

Cana chuckled, and patted her back again, “Then I’m sure he’s already here, fighting off those things so that he can come for you.”

Song gasped, “C-Cana?”

“Yes?”

Song trembled, “Drax could barely keep one of those monsters from hurting him. Dada c-can’t f-fight like th-that.”

“Your father doesn’t fight like that, little one. His strengths are different than Drax’s, you know that. He’ll be okay, just like Drax will be.”

Song wanted to believe Cana, she really did. She opened her mouth to say so, then stopped and sniffed. “C-Cana? Wh-what is that smell?”

Cana sniffed as well. “I don’t smell-“ the old woman looked up, then froze. Smoky tendrils curled down from above, through the seam of the trap door.

Rocket soared over the back alleys, picking off more of the things as he went. With Adam, Kraglin, and Cosmo now in the fight, the tide was turning in Knowhere’s favor.

Even though most of Knowhere was still on fire.

This is so much worse than what His Hellspawn did. Rocket thought with an ache in his chest. They’d been lucky that Kraglin had figured out his arrow when the Hellspawn had attacked and, thankfully, there had been no casualties and very few injuries. This time around though… Well, Rocket would have nightmares for months, maybe even years, about the few bodies he’d already seen in the streets since landing the Bowie.

He sincerely hoped Drax had gotten Song to the safehouse before she could see any of this.

“Captain!” Cosmo shouted from the hidden entrance to the underground bunker of the safehouse.

He swooped down, taking stock of their surroundings as he landed and latched his cannon to his back. The safehouse bunker had been constructed under the ruins of the Collector’s old headquarters which had remained deserted since Thanos had attacked and claimed the Reality Stone. The things seemed to be avoiding the place, targeting the seemingly more populated areas and Rocket was extremely grateful this part of his home was still untouched.

“Cosmo, stand guard. I’m gonna go inside and see who made it.”

“Aye Captain,” she answered, then dashed above with a quick wag of her tail.

Heart pounding so loudly he felt it in his ears, Rocket input the code to open the bunker door. No response.

They took out the power grid. Shit! With quick fingers, Rocket disconnected the panel from the wall, setting it on the ground beside him, then reached into the hole left in the wall. His fingers found the manual latch that he’d installed for just such emergencies.

He paused.

Once the manual latch was engaged, the safehouse bunker doors would slide open. But they would also stay open until the power came back on. And Rocket, even with how much he needed to see that Song was safe, didn’t want to risk the safety of everyone who’d made it inside.

If anyone managed to make it inside, that is. He shook his head, trying to get rid of that morbid thought.

“Cap!”

Rocket jumped and whipped around, tail swishing behind him, “Howard?”

Howard, who was panting hard and looking like he’d run all the way out here, rested a hand against the tunnel wall and leaned against it.

Rocket tried to be patient as Howard fought to breathe.

“S-saw Neb… Saw Nebula,” Howard huffed. “She said… you were… looking for… your rugrat.”

Rocket froze. Howard had called Song ‘rugrat’ since the beginning, no matter how many times Song had glared at him for it. Dread filled Rocket and he found himself also fighting to breathe. He ground his teeth. “She’s not here,” he stated. “Where?”

Howard huffed and Rocket fought the urge to shake the answer out of him. Howard took a deep breath, “Cana’s store. Cana has a bolthole built into the back of her shop.” He took another strangled breath, “Goes straight to the port and where her ship is docked.”

“You think she left Knowhere?” Rocket felt himself relax, hoping Cana had managed to get Song away from the danger.

Howard shook his head, his breathing finally under control, “Nah. Them things are crawling all over the port. More like, she’s got herself and your rugrat hiding out underground. She’s got all kinds of supplies stocked down there.”

Rocket nodded. “Cosmo’s above. Both of you stay here in case those things come this way.” He activated the Aero-Rig.

“Sure thing.”

Rocket didn’t even bother to respond. He flew in the direction of the marketplace. He paused when he came upon Groot, who was fighting back-to-back with Phylla and Kraglin, taking out a group of the monsters.

“Groot!”

“I am Groot!”

“Cana’s shop! Now! Song’s there!”

“I AM GROOT!"

The minute Cana’s shop came into view, time stopped. Rocket found himself, for the third time, unable to breathe.

The shop, along with most of the marketplace, was engulfed in flames.

“No,” he whispered.

“I AM GROOT!”

“No, Groot!” Rocket shouted back, swooping down in front of his massive son, hovering level with Groot’s face. “You’re way too frickin’ flammable.”

“I am Groot!”

“No time.”

“I am Groot.”

“Just stay out here and keep watch for her. Please.”

“I… am Groot.”

Rocket nodded, then swooped down. Part of the side wall of Cana’s shop had collapsed into the alleyway, leaving a gaping hole that he swooped into. Headless of the smoke that was making him cough and his eyes water, Rocket frantically looked around the blazing room.

“SONG!” he yelled. “SONG!” The beams above groaned threateningly, and Rocket froze.

The beams seemed like they would hold, but not for much longer. Coughing, Rocket finally spied the mechanism for the trap door. Completely surrounded by flames. He swooped down to it and reached down, yanking his hand back with a hiss when the overheated mechanism burned his hand. Again he reached forward and, this time ignoring the pain, ripped off the face of the control panel, throwing it aside.

His heart leapt into his throat.

The wires and motherboard for the control mechanism were melted.

Maybe they’re not here. Maybe Cana was able to get Song out through the tunnel. Rocket thought desperately. He hacked, and yelled one more time, “SONG! CANA!”

The heat was already unbearable, and Rocket could feel himself sweating. He could smell his fur as the fire singed the ends.

A heartbeat passed and no answer. He went to leave through the gaping hole in the building’s side but froze.

Just barely audible over the crackling flames came a response. “Rocket!”

“CANA! JUST HOLD ON, WE’RE GONNA-“ The breath was knocked out of him as something grabbed the back of his Aero-Rig and yanked.

The steel side of the building across the alley from Cana’s shop groaned as Groot slammed sideways into it, the fingers of one hand gripping the back of Rocket’s Aero-Rig. Ignoring the jets, Groot curled Rocket into his chest and turned away from Cana’s shop as the overhead beams groaned again and finally gave. The beams crashed down and took the rest of the shop with it. The walls and roof crumbled and gave and the fire whooshed and crackled loudly, sending sparks and ash everywhere.

Rocket tried to claw his way out of Groot’s hold, “NO!”

“I AM GROOT!” Groot bellowed, tears falling from his eyes as he turned back to the burning embers of what was left of Cana’s shop. “I am Groot.”

Rocket disengaged the Aero-Rig and pulled himself up to sit on Groot’s shoulder. He patted Groot’s cheek, unable to answer as he coughed. Both of them were covered in ash.

Thunder, probably more explosions, bellowed and Rocket felt his ears and tail go limp. He sniffed, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his face. Cosmo was the only one who could have done anything, and she was too frickin’ far away.

Thunder bellowed again as Groot slid down the wall behind him. Then lightning arced through the sky. Once, twice, three times.

Thor.

Caught in another coughing fit, Rocket leaned against Groot’s head. Too frickin’ late.

Then something happened on Knowhere that would probably never happen on the station again. Clouds furled in seemingly out of knowhere and rain poured in a deluge that quickly put out the fires.

Groot was on his feet in an instant, tossing rubble this way and that, heedless of the heat of the rubble and of their surroundings.

Rocket activated the Aero-Rig and, without saying a word, led Groot back to the trap door.

Groot reached down, fingers growing small vine-like tendrils that wriggled their way through the seam of the trap door. With a grunt, Groot yanked the trap-door wide open and both of them fell back as smoke poured up and out, so thick that it seemed to have a life of its own. Covering his nose, Rocket soared through the smoke and down into the darkness.

“Rocket,” came a weak response, weaker than the yell that Cana had given just moments before.

“Cana! Are you-? Song?”

Cana coughed weakly from where she was curled on the floor in the back corner. Rocket landed beside her and knelt to put a hand on her shoulder.

“She’s-“ Cana coughed again, a horrible wracking cough that shook her whole body. “She’s here.” Cana lifted her arm and the sleeve of her tunic slid off Song who, while unconscious, seemed unharmed, curled up against Cana’s chest.

Rocket immediately snatched his daughter up, holding her close to him as he checked her breathing and her pulse. Her pulse felt okay, but her breathing… He needed to get a medpack and soon. Two medpacs. Cana would need one too.

Cana coughed again, “I… I tried to…” Another body wracking cough and she winced. “I tried to… protect her from the smoke… but she’s so… so little.” She coughed again.

“You did what you could.” He coughed and his voice broke, “Thank you.”

“I should… should have…”

She broke into a longer coughing fit and Rocket freed a hand from his hold on Song to pat her shoulder. “Just hold on. Groot’s gonna get you out of here and we’ll get you patched up.”

She nodded, trying to take deeper breaths as the smoke finally cleared out and was replaced by fresh air.

Rocket shot through the trapdoor, holding Song firmly to his chest. “Get Cana! I’m getting medpacs!” he shouted at Groot as he soared away, back to the Bowie and the only place he was sure wasn’t burnt to the ground. Medpacs. Hafta get to the medpacs.

He’d soared through what was left of the Bowie’s front viewport, landed in the cockpit, and had already de-activated the Aero-Rig when Song stirred in his arms.

He paused with his breath caught in his throat. Song coughed and squirmed in his hold. She whimpered and the sound tore at his heart.

“Kiddo?”

She coughed again, opening her eyes. She blinked and looked around, almost as if she didn’t recognize where she was.

“Song,” he said softly.

Her little face turned back up to him. “Dada?” She whimpered again.

Rocket started shaking as he pulled her close and held her as tightly as he dared. “Yeah. Yeah, kiddo. It’s me. I got ya. You’re okay. I got ya.”

Song coughed, “Dada?”

“Hmm?”

“Your fur,” she coughed again, “is white. You look like,” another cough, “one of D-Drax’s d-doughnuts.”

Rocket, tears running down his face and feeling like he was going to melt with relief, just started laughing.

Thor chose that moment to land beside them. “Did I miss something?”

Chapter Text

Hey everyone.
Sorry for the break in updates, been a little crazy between Thanksgiving and an ER trip for me.
(I'm alright, nothing life-threatening. Thank goodness.)
I am working on the next chapter and hopefully it will be up by Dec. 10th.
Until then, take care. ❤

Chapter Text

As soon as the big blonde man with the red cape flew through the Bowie’s viewport and landed with a thump beside Song and Rocket, his voice booming, Song squeaked and gripped Rocket’s shirt tightly. She pulled herself as close to her Dada as she could, struggling to breathe as another coughing fit caught her.

Rocket patted her back, trying to help her, as he answered the stranger, “Don’t got time to explain Thor.” He started walking quickly towards the back of the cockpit, to head deeper into the ship, “Song needs a medpac, now.”

“I take it Song is the little rabbit in your arms,” Thor stated. Song watched him over Rocket’s shoulder as the coughing subsided. The man didn’t look mean, only curious. Looks are always deceiving, though.

Sire had looked nice. At first.

Wait a second… Rabbit? “I am not a rabbit!” She glared at Thor, but the effect was ruined by another coughing fit.

“Song, kiddo, take it easy,” Rocket murmured, sounding worried as he patted her back again. He cleared his throat, fighting a coughing fit of his own.

“Wait, Rocket.”

The urgency in Thor’s tone made Rocket pause with one hand stretched towards the door control panels, “Wait? Thor, my kid can barely breathe.” He coughed again, his breath hitching for just a moment.

“Nebula sent me after you,” Thor strode towards them purposefully. Song ducked her head under Rocket’s chin as he turned towards the big blonde. “She was very insistent that I stop you before you used a medpac on Song.”

“What, why-?”

Thor looked confused, “She did not go into detail, only said to remind you of the failsafe device and-“

“SHIT!” Rocket exploded, causing Song to jump in his arms and immediately start coughing again. Rocket shifted his hold on her, frantically patting her back as he coughed too, “Damn it.” He rocked from side to side as he kept patting her back until both of their coughing fits finally, finally, stopped. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s okay, Dada,” Song rasped. “It’s n-not your fault,” another few coughs, “you keep f-forgetting not to say bad w-words.”

Rocket gave a surprised, frantic chuckle. If Song didn’t know better, she would have thought her Dada sounded scared.

“Dada?”

Rocket pulled her tighter to him, rubbing the side of his face against hers, “I’m sorry, kiddo. I…” He pulled his head back and up to look up at Thor. “I-“

Thor was already pulling something out of a pouch that was secured to his belt. “Take this.”

“It’s a frickin’ rock, Thor.”

“Healing stone.” Thor looked sad, “If I had learned to be better prepared and had been sure to keep these with me, maybe… Loki and…” He shook his head, seemingly unable to finish whatever he was going to say.

Rocket took the rune-covered rock in the hand that wasn’t holding Song to his chest. “What the frick am I supposed to do with this? Chant or somethin’?” He coughed again and Song looked up at him, worry in her eyes. Dada doesn’t sound good.

“You crush it over her. The dust dissipates, healing her wounds.”

Rocket was already shaking his head, clearing his throat again as he started to answer, “Th-that’ll just set off the failsafe in her chest, Thor.” Song started coughing again and Rocket’s ears flicked with worry, “Just like the medpac.”

“I may not completely understand how medpacs work, but I do know they are mechanical in nature, Rabbit. Healing stones are purely magic. Nebula implied this failsafe device was mechanical and I have never known, or heard of, a healing stone to set off any such device.”

Rocket looked at Thor for a beat, then down at Song, then at the stone in his hand. He cleared his throat again. “And how, exactly, am I supposed to crush a rock?”

Thor rolled his eyes, taking the healing stone back, “Error on my part. My apologies.” Without another word, Thor crushed the rock over both Rocket and Song. The dust glittered over them and then dissipated the moment it touched their fur.

“Thor, what the hell-?” Rocket, voice sounding stronger and clearer, froze and watched Song with the most scared look she’d ever seen on his face.

“Dada? Dada, what’s wrong?” she whimpered, fear in her voice as she shook. She didn’t even think about how much better her chest and throat felt. Her head felt clearer too, but she couldn’t focus on that. Dada was scared.

If Dada’s scared…

Rocket didn’t answer, just watched her for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, then breathed a sigh of relief as he hugged her tightly. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s gonna be okay.” He sounded… relieved. Still shaky, but relieved.

Song looked up at Thor from the safety of her Dada’s arms and glared at him. “Dada is not a rabbit either.”

Thor, looking amused, knelt to be closer to their level. “I am aware, young one. I am glad you are feeling better.”

Nebula had taken one look at Rocket, with his near-death grip on Song, and had absolutely refused to allow him to help deal with the aftermath of the attack on their home. So he and Thor, with Thor’s kid Love tailing them, had set up a table and some chairs they'd managed to find in the rubble. Love had spotted Phylla as she was coming back from the safehouse with Drax and Groot, the rest of the Star Children and refugee kids trailing behind them. It didn’t take long before a game of tag had started up, with Drax and Groot in the middle of chaos, supposedly supervising. Heh, more like they’re riling the kids up. Rocket couldn’t blame them though. It was only about six or seven weeks since the Star Children were rescued and the Hellspawn had attacked Knowhere.

Rocket, still covered in soot, settled in one of the chairs with his arms around Song as Thor finished explaining how he’d ended up with a kid of his own and why the hell he’d let the little girl keep Stormbreaker of all freakin’ weapons.

Thor grew quiet and Rocket shifted his hold on Song as she sat on his lap, “Kiddo, you sure you don’t wanna go play with Phylla and the other kids?” He inclined his head to where Love, Phylla, and the other Star Children were still playing tag in a small area of the street that Groot and Adam had managed to clear of rubble. Groot and Drax were still right in the middle of the crowd of kids. “Groot’s out there.”

His daughter shook her head so hard he was sure she’d hurt her neck, “Uh uh. I want to stay with you, Dada,” she said. Again.

He sighed and just rubbed her shoulder. His little girl had sat quietly as Thor and Rocket had swapped stories, updating each other on everything that had happened to them since Thor had left the Guardians.

“Gorr sounds like he should have been named after The Crawling Shadow,” Song piped up suddenly. “The way he used the shadows to attack everyone.”

“Crawling Shadow?” Rocket asked with a tail flick, looking down at his daughter in confusion as his ears shifted sideways.

“The Crawling Shadow,” Song answered impatiently. “It’s actually a name for Nyarlathotep, though.” As Rocket’s expression became more confused, she huffed. “He’s an eldritch god, Dada,” she added smartly, as if he should just know exactly what she was talking about.

“A what now?”

Thor looked concerned, “You’ve been reading Lovecraft, young one.”

“Love what now?!” Rocket did not like where this discussion was going. Song read everything she could get her hands on and well… I shoulda realized that I needed to be looking over her books before she got a hold of ‘em. He felt his hackles raise, as his jaw clenched and the fur on his tail stood on end. If someone gave her a book of smut I’m gonna-

Thor’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “H. P. Lovecraft was a Midgardian writer and, as Darcy has told me multiple times, he is known as the ‘father of Earth’s modern horror fiction’. He is Darcy’s favorite author.” At Rocket’s look of confusion that seemed to be plastered to his face, he elaborated sadly, “Darcy is …” He cleared his throat, looking miserable in only a way that Thor could, “She was friends with Jane, before Jane...” He shook his head, unable to finish. Unable to say again what had happened to her.

Rocket gave him a sympathetic look, then turned his attention to his daughter. “Horror fiction,” he said blandly. He felt his fur lay flat as he began to relax, but only a little. He looked at Song with a raised eyebrow. She definitely recognized the look as she ducked her head, just barely meeting his eyes. “So that’s why you still aren’t sleepin’ in your own bed. And why you’re still having so many nightmares.”

“But he’s a good writer, Dada,” she said softly, right on the edge of whining.

“That may be so,” Thor added, “but, from what I understand, a lot of his writing is much too close to what your father just told me the High Evolutionary put the both of you through.”

Song pouted and Rocket gave her a warning look, “And that settles it. You’re not readin’ any more of his stuff. Not until you’re much older. Maybe not ever.” If any of her books had survived, he was definitely going through them himself. I’ll probably have to ask Pete about ‘em though. Scratch that, Quill wasn’t much of a reader. He’d probably end up having to make a call to Big Green.

“But Dada-“

“Song. Don’t start.”

She hmphed, flopping back against his chest with her ears flat to her skull and her little arms folded against her own chest. “That’s not fair,” she mumbled softly as her tail flicked irritably to the side, but he heard her perfectly.

Thor was full on laughing and Rocket shot him a look, even though he was holding back a laugh himself. He was definitely disturbed that his kid had been reading things that were way too close to the shit they’d both been through, but when she did silly things like this... He fought to keep a smile off his face as he answered, “Not my job to be fair, kiddo. It’s my job to take care of you.” Starting with that failsafe. I can’t frickin’ believe none of us even thought that she’d have one of those damn things. If Nebula hadn’t realized that Song probably had one of the damn things too… Well, Rocket didn’t want to even think about what might have happened. He tightened his hold on his youngest kid just a little, thanking his lucky stars that she was okay.

Marcus and Nebula, the hero in question herself, walked towards them, skirting around the crowd of laughing and shrieking children. Something in Nebula’s expression set him on edge. She only had that kind of look to her when something was really, really wrong. Drax and Groot both seemed to have noticed too and followed Nebula and Marcus over to Thor, Rocket, and Song. Nebula seated herself by Rocket, Marcus on her other side with Drax beside him.

Groot settled himself on the ground behind Rocket’s chair, one hand reaching forward for Song. Song shook her head, but reached out a little hand and patted her brother’s thumb. “I’m gonna stay with Dada right now, Groot.”

“I am Groot.” Groot nodded, growing yet another flower in his palm for his little sister.

Rocket smiled softly to himself, watching his kids interact. If someone had told me, back on Xandar when old Groot and I were looking for bounties, that someday I’d be sitting here with my kids… Yeah… I would’ve laughed in their face. He met Nebula’s gaze, and that same expression was still there. He frowned, “Nebs?”

She didn’t hesitate, Nebula wasn’t one to waste words, “We lost Borden, Neera, and nine others whose names I haven’t learned yet.” She swallowed and looked down, “They were new refugees, they thought they were safe here.” Marcus patted her shoulder.

Rocket opened his mouth, but Thor spoke before him, “What did those things want? They were attacking fiercely when Love and I arrived and then they were just… gone after Rocket and Song were healed.”

Healed. He turned back to his son, “Groot, is Cana…?”

“I am Groot.” Groot responded softly and Rocket breathed a sigh of relief. Groot had gotten Cana to safety, gotten her a medpac, and Drax had helped him reunite her with her children.

Song copied Rocket’s sigh of relief almost perfectly, earning a few quiet chuckles. She ignored them and patted Groot’s thumb again, before pulling her new flower to her chest, “Thank you, Groot.”

“I am Groot.”

Nebula and Marcus, a pink-skinned Krylorian, met each other’s eyes and Rocket did not like their expressions. Marcus nodded and Nebs turned to look at Rocket.

“They came for him, Rocket. His cell is empty.”

Rocket felt himself freeze, heart hammering. No.

Marcus continued, “Since the security cameras for his cell are on their own power grid, I was able to access the footage. They didn’t take him. They released him.” He looked down at the ground, “Sorry Boss, wish it was better news.”

Nebula reached towards Rocket. He numbly reached back and grasped her hand in much the same way he had right after the snap. He already knew what she was going to say.

But she said it anyway. “Those things… Rocket.” She took a breath.

Drax spoke for the first time, “I also have seen the footage for myself. Those things were following him.”

“Him?” Song chirped, turning in Rocket’s grasp to stand on his leg. She was almost eye to eye with him, her little arms grasping his arm that was still wrapped around her, “Dada, who did they break out? Who was in a cell and got out?”

Rocket let go of Nebula’s fingers and put his hand under his daughter’s chin, “Song. Kiddo.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Thor looking over at the crowd of children, trying to locate Love.

Song’s eyes widened and she started shaking, “It was Sire, wasn’t it, Dada? It was Him.”

Unable to answer, Rocket just nodded.

Song lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her whole little body shaking, “Don’t let him get me, Dada. Please, please, please, don’t let him get me.” She started sobbing, “D-don’t l-let H-Him h-hurt m-me.”

He held her close, “He ain’t getting you, kiddo. Not on my life.”

Chapter Text

The walls and roof of Cana’s shop crumbled and gave and the fire whooshed and crackled loudly, but not loud enough to cover the awful sound of Song’s wailing, pained cries and screams.

“DADA!” she sobbed. “DADA!”

Rocket tried to claw his way out of Groot’s hold, “NO! SONG!”

“I AM GROOT!” Groot bellowed, tears falling from his eyes as he turned back to the burning embers of what was left of Cana’s shop.

Rocket pulled himself up to sit on Groot’s shoulder and lost himself to his misery.

Then, thunder rumbled and rolled, and the rain came. At first it seemed like the fire would outlast the rain, but the storm finally won. As soon as the flames died, Groot pulled himself up and Rocket jumped from his shoulder, activating the Aero-Rig just as he felt himself start to fall.

He zipped toward the trap door, Groot right behind him. Groot’s vine-like tendrils caught in the trap door and he ripped it up.

Black smoke curled out to meet them as more fire whooshed out from the hole in the floor, the angry tongues of flame whipping out to catch Groot full in the face.

Rocket watched in horror as Groot screamed without words. The rain, still pouring heavily, quickly put out the flames that had almost engulfed Groot but the damage was done.

Groot, face, neck, and shoulders heavily charred, whimpered painfully for a moment before he was finally able to speak, “I… am… Groot.” Song’s still down there.

Rocket felt his heart freeze in his chest as he looked back at the flames and realized that he could no longer hear his daughter’s cries. NO! He deactivated the Aero-Rig, dropping to the floor as the rain finally beat the last of the flames into submission. He looked into the darkness of Cana’s bolthole, suddenly gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread. What he could see of the stairs were almost burnt to a crisp.

“Song?” he said softly, finding himself almost unable to speak. The fear in his chest spread to his throat, almost locking his airway closed. He coughed, “C-cana? Song?”

No answer.

Nothing.

Nothing but a horrible, horrible, burnt smell.

He swallowed, tentatively taking the first step down, then another, and then another until he reached the bottom, his boots soaked through from the rivulets of water cascading down the steps around him. His eyes adjusted quickly as they always did in the dark and he found himself frozen yet again.

This time by a charred lump on the floor near the back wall.

“No,” he rasped, unable to get any volume to his voice.

He rushed forward.

Cana was gone.

Tentatively he moved his hand to her charred sleeve as the overwhelming fear gripped him tighter. His hands shook as he slowly pulled the burnt material away and his heart stopped.

“Song. No. No.”

He cried. He cried as hard as he did when He had shot Lylla. He cried as hard as he had when he’d finally got away from the reach of the Areta and let himself be lost in the grief of losing her, and Floor, and Teefs.

And then he cried harder.

Rocket woke with a start, panting as tears kept rolling down his face. He sat up as his eyes roamed around the darkness of his quarters and he almost panicked before he remembered where he was. His quarters on the Bowie.

Something soft and warm moved by his side and he almost jumped out of his fur. Song made one of her cute, soft, little whimpering squeaks that she only made whenever she was comfortable and completely out of it.

That little sound grounded him. He rubbed his face dry with one hand before he reached out with the other and gently touched the top of her head. She didn’t flinch. Just to make sure she was asleep he let his fingers lightly touch her ear. When her ear didn’t move, he slowly reached over and picked her up and cradled her to his chest as his heart finally started to slow down it’s frantic pace.

He scooted back until his shoulders rested on the headboard, his pillow scrunched up to support his lower back, and shifted Song until her weight rested comfortably on his chest. His tail, seemingly with a mind of its own, curled up and rested on Song’s back.

Gently, soothingly, Rocket rubbed his daughter’s shoulders, letting her weight on his chest and the rise and fall of her breathing calm him. He sighed and closed his eyes.

As soon as his eyelids closed, his mind filled with the sight of Groot’s charred face and Song’s-

His eyes shot wide open, and he looked down at his daughter as she mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled into the fur above the scar that surrounded his metal collarbone.

Ain’t no way I’m going back to sleep anytime soon.

Slowly, carefully, doing his best not to wake up his sleeping little girl, Rocket slid out of bed. He didn’t bother reaching for the lights, his eyes were already adjusted to the dark. That, and he didn’t want to wake up the rest of the team, Nebula, and Drax. Knowhere’s buildings had been completely demolished in the last attack, including Guardian’s headquarters. Nothing of theirs had survived, except for Bucky’s arm that Nebula had given him for Christmas. The team, Nebula, and Drax would have to live on the Bowie until they could rebuild.

As he moved carefully through the ship’s sleeping quarters he stopped by each room, checking on the inhabitants before moving on. Everyone was fine and it seemed like he was the only one up. He couldn’t blame them, he himself was exhausted.

He shifted his hold on Song as he made his way to Groot’s room and thought about what had happened since the attack, after the cleanup had started.

All of the rest of the inhabitants of Knowhere had taken up residence at the safehouse. Well, almost all them. More than a few had gathered into a small crowd and had verbally attacked the Guardians, angrily pointing out that the Guardians had promised them safety and now, because of the Guardians, Rocket specifically, most had lost everything, many of them were injured, and some were dead.

Song had whimpered and shook in Rocket’s arms, and he’d held her tightly as the crowd’s voices became louder.

Nebula had stepped forward when the accusations had become even more focused on Rocket due to the mechanical monsters releasing the High Evolutionary. The angry crowd all seemed to agree that the most recent attack wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Rocket sparing the man’s life and the agreement with Nova Corps to keep Him on Knowhere until he could be properly tried. She had, with a deadly calm, told the unhappy refugees that there was nothing keeping them on Knowhere and they were more than welcome to leave. The irritated refugees had grumbled and shouted back at her until Thor had stepped in beside her and Rocket, with Drax and Love at his other side. Thunder had rumbled and lightning crackled in the sky as Thor’s eyes had turned white and he’d commanded them to leave.

Many more of the refugees, more than outnumbering the unhappy crowd, had also stepped forward in support of the Guardians.

Faced with an Asgardian god with a giant hammer, the god’s kid wielding an even larger battle axe, the Guardians themselves, and the rest of the inhabitants of Knowhere, the angry crowd had dissipated in the direction of the port. Many ships had also been destroyed, but a few were still operational. Cana herself had given her late husband’s little hunk-a-junk of a planet-hopper to the dissenters, claiming she wouldn’t have any peace until the ungrateful bastards were gone.

When Rocket had asked her later what the hell she’d been thinking in doing that, she had calmly looked at him and had made it clear that she wasn’t going to stand for anyone going after him and her grandbaby like that. ‘Grandbaby’ meaning Song, of course. Cana had then gone on to comfort him, making it very clear that Rocket was in no way responsible for the attack and that he should not even think to listen to any of that nonsense that the dissenters had been spewing. The fault lay with whatever sick son of a bitch that had sent those things to attack them and release that sick bastard. Drax, Nebula, and the rest of the Guardians had all voiced their support in her words. Song, naturally, had politely told Cana that she shouldn’t be saying bad words.

Right then, Rocket had promised himself that he was gonna build the old woman a better, much more dependable ship once Knowhere was rebuilt. And, more importantly, make quite a few improvements to the bolthole under her shop once the place was rebuilt.

But first, while Knowhere was being rebuilt, he had to deal with Song’s failsafe. They’d been extremely lucky that she’d only suffered from smoke damage and that Thor had made a recent habit of carrying around those healing stones.

Rocket had asked Thor about them before the Asgardian had left, but Thor had told him that healing stones were extremely rare as they took a very talented sorcerer skilled in healing arts a long time to make. And, unfortunately, there weren’t very many such sorcerers left after Thanos’ attack on the Statesman. Thor had been a little uncomfortable, but Rocket had just rolled his eyes and told the big blonde oaf that he understood. Rocket’s gaze had shifted to Song, still in his arms, then over to Love, then back up at Thor. Thor nodded, understanding he was forgiven for not offering some of the very few healing stones he still had left.

Phylla, and the rest of the Star Children, had been very put out when Love had to leave with Thor.

But, since then, Rocket had only been able to think of two things. Finding out where the High Evolutionary and His new little army went and, more importantly, of the kill switch in his daughter’s chest, wrapped around her heart. Even now, he was worried that the High Evolutionary had made improvements to Song’s device and that the code that had shut Rocket’s down might be outdated enough to set Song’s off-

Song shifted in Rocket’s arms, bringing him back to the present. He reached out to tap the door controls to Groot’s room, but the door swished open before his claws even touched the buttons, making him jump back half a step. Groot was standing on the other side of the door, looking just as surprised.

“I am Groot,” Groot rumbled as quietly was he was capable.

“Yeah,” Rocket whispered back, one hand patting Song’s back gently, “I know. I can’t sleep either.”

“I am Groot? I am Groot.” Groot made to step out into the hallway, ducking his head just a little to get through the massive doorway.

Rocket shook his head, “You don’t hafta, Groot. I already checked, they’re all okay.”

Groot paused, still inside his room, and straightened, “I am Groot?”

“Of course I made sure they were breathin’, Groot,” Rocket answered, his voice rising just a touch in annoyance. He sighed, reminding himself that Groot was just as worried as he was about everyone else. And that there was nothing wrong in feeling irritated either, they had just been through a lot after all. But… the way some of those refugees who’d left had looked at him before they’d departed… He shook himself. Not my fault. Cana was right. The guys and Thor were right. I can’t keep blaming myself for His actions. Or what his minions do. He sighed again. He’d been making progress with that but apparently not as much as he’d have liked.

Groot walked back to his massive bed and settled into it. Rocket followed, making it halfway into his son’s room before his daughter shifted in his arms.

“Dada?” Song chirped sleepily as she straightened and rubbed at her little eyes.

“Go back to sleep, kiddo. You’re okay, everything’s okay.”

“Dada, why are we not in bed? It’s nighttime.”

Groot chuckled and Rocket rolled his eyes.

Song, hearing her brother, twisted in Rocket’s arms until he had to put her down to keep from dropping her. She ran to Groot’s bed, using her little claws on her hands and feet to climb up the blanket and then over Groot’s arm and shoulder so that she could hug his face. “Hi Groot.”

Rocket crossed his arms and smiled, watching them interact, ears pricked forward and tail lazily swishing behind him.

“I am Groot.”

“I’m sorry, Groot, I was scared.”

“I am Groot.”

“Well of course I know that I don’t have to apologize. But it’s still the polite thing to do,” Song admonished her brother smartly. Rocket chuckled.

Groot rumbled thoughtfully before speaking again, “I am Groot.” Song nodded, humming in agreement. Rocket jolted and looked at his children, eyes widening and tail stilling in surprise.

“Well yeah. I was scared and Dada was worried.” Song met Rocket’s gaze, still talking to Groot, “I’ve never seen Dada be scared before.”

Groot looked at him too, “I am Groot.”

Rocket huffed, shaking his head at his kids as he walked toward them. He too climbed up to be near Groot’s face, taking Song in his arms again as he curled up by Groot’s head, “Well, yeah. We almost lost you, kiddo.” He ruffled the fur under her ear, then rubbed the side of his face against hers.

Song turned her head to press her tiny nose against his cheek briefly, in much the same way as Cana’s children would kiss her, “I’m okay, Dada.”

“I am Groot,” Groot rumbled again. You are now. But…

Song huffed, “Well, I’m okay now. You just said so. Isn’t that what’s important?”

Rocket chuckled again, “Yeah, I guess so. Just...” He shook his head.

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you, Dada? That’s why you brought me to Groot’s room. So that the three of us could be together.”

“Huh?”

Song looked at him impatiently, that same annoyed look she gave anyone whenever she thought they weren’t paying enough attention to her, “Nightmare is what a bad dream is called, Dada.”

That startled a laugh out of him. He ruffled the fur under her ear again. “I keep forgetting how frickin’ smart you are, kiddo.” She was both extremely intelligent and a bit of a smart ass, not too different from him really. Aside from the whole not understanding anything mechanical, of course.

She tilted her head at him quizzically. Her brows were knitted just enough that he could imagine she was thinking ‘Well yeah. So?’.

He just shook his head, “You don’t know how lucky we are to have you, kiddo.”

She looked at him, then over at Groot, then back at him with confusion all over her face. “But Dada,” she started somewhat patiently, like she was trying to talk to someone younger than her. “You and Groot, Uncle Drax, Aunt Nebula, Aunt Mantis and Uncle Pete saved me.” She shook her head, “Dada you made…” she huffed in irritation, stuck on her words like she sometimes got when she started to overthink things. “I’m here and safe because of you, Dada.”

Rocket’s eyes were getting wet. This was better than Nebula giving him Bucky’s arm for Christmas. So much better.

And to think, during that first night with Song, when he’d gripped the sides of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, that he’d thought he would never be able to do this... To think that he’d told Drax that first morning that he wasn’t a dad, that he didn’t know how to be one… I’ve never been so frickin’ happy to be wrong in my life.

Groot wasn’t gonna let himself be left out either.

“I am Groot.” I wouldn’t be here either, Dad. You planted me in my pot, and you brought me and everyone else back.

Song narrowed her eyes at her brother, brows knit in confusion. They’d have to tell her about The Blip and soon, but not now.

Rocket didn’t want to relive that nightmare, not now while he was curled up with his kids.

Song looked back up at him, and concern flooded her face. She wriggled up to rest her head on his shoulder and one little hand reached for his face. Rocket gave a surprised chuckle when she started clumsily wiping at his eyes.

“I am Groot,” Groot mumbled sleepily.

Another surprised chuckle escaped Rocket when Song started humming. Glen Campbell’s Southern Nights, the first song Rocket had ever played and hummed for her.

Sure, she was off-key and wasn’t even close to the right tempo quite a few times… but still… Stars he loved this kid.

Song’s humming drifted off as she quickly fell asleep while Groot started making loud rumbling snores. Rocket laughed softly to himself.

He loved both his kids so much it almost hurt.

Chapter Text

Merry Christmas ya'll! 🎄

Hope you wonderful readers have an amazing holiday!

Next chapter will be out next week!

Chapter Text

Song was supposed to be asleep while Dada worked. She was curled up on her little pallet of blankets on the couch just feet from him in the common area of the Bowie, keeping her eyes closed as she tried to sleep. She could hear her Dada mumbling to himself from his place on the floor at the low table while parts clicked against each other. He sounded like he was becoming increasingly more and more irritated.

Song had been sitting with him until she’d started to get whiny, which she knew Dada didn’t like. Calmly, he’d stopped working long enough to try to get her to take a nap. He’d tried to get her to settle in his quarters on the Bowie, but she’d refused to let go of him for even a moment. It wasn’t until Drax suggested she sleep on the couch and even took it upon himself to fetch blankets that Song finally unhooked her claws from her Dada’s shirt. She’d left little holes behind in the material, meaning Dada would have to get a replacement uniform, but he hadn’t seemed to mind much.

Song shifted, trying to calm her mind again. She tried counting slowly in her head like Kraglin had suggested once. She tried to imagine she was floating on a cloud like Aunt Mantis had suggested that one rare time they’d been able to get a clear transmission through to her. She tried singing in her head, without humming or making a sound like Groot had mentioned once. She’d even tried counting imaginary fluffy animals, sheep, like Uncle Pete had mentioned a few times.

Nothing was working. She sighed and opened her eyes and just watched Dada as he worked. As long as I stay quiet, Dada will think I’m asleep. He’s too focused to notice anything much around him right now anyway.

She watched her Dada meticulously go through the pieces spread out on the low table before him. Those pieces had once been one of those mechanical monsters, one that had been his size. He picked up a piece that had once been on the inside of the thing. It was very burnt and even melted in some places. He sighed, setting it back down after a few more moments of careful examination.

He sighed again, then groaned in irritation as he rubbed at his eyes and leaned back against the couch as his tail swished and his ears flattened to his head in irritation.

“I take it that you haven’t found anything useful, then,” came Aunt Nebula’s low voice from behind the couch. Song immediately squeezed her eyes shut.

Aunt Nebula’s footsteps moved around the couch and then the cushions shifted by Song, on the side opposite from her Dada, as her aunt settled on the couch.

Her Dada huffed irritably, “No. Not a damn thing.”

Song lightly bit her tongue, forcing herself not to remind Dada that he shouldn’t say that word. I’m supposed to be sleeping.

“That one piece of the armor is the same color as the Areta’s outer hull,” Aunt Nebula observed quietly.

“Kinda noticed that from the start,” Dada answered just as softly. “But that don’t mean nothing, Nebs. Every single one of these things look like they were cobbled together from spare parts. Could be scrappers, pirates, rogue group of Ravagers that didn’t like Yondu or Pete.”

“Could be someone trying to throw us off their scent,” her aunt suggested.

“Yeah, I thought about that too. It’s just…” Dada sighed tiredly, “the way these things are built… It’s a lot like how I used to build things back in the day, when I first got away from Him. Back when scraps were the only things I had.”

“You think we might be dealing with another survivor. That maybe we didn’t rescue all of the Children.” It was a statement, not a question.

Song stiffened, keeping herself from jumping up in surprise.

“As much as I hate to admit it… Maybe.” Dada was quiet for a moment, “But I really hope not, Nebs. Just the thought of another one of those kids out there who was tortured like the Star Children, like I was, like Song was… And the possibility that He’s still… Nebs, I…” Dada trailed off, sounding so sad.

Song gave up pretending to sleep. Dada was sad. “Dada?”

His head whipped towards her, and his eyes narrowed a little, “You’re supposed to be asleep, kiddo.” He wagged his finger a little bit in front of her nose, “How much did you hear?”

Aunt Nebula spoke before Song could answer, “I’m assuming everything. I noticed she was pretending the moment I sat down.”

Dada rolled his eyes, and then fixed Aunt Nebula with a frustrated look, “And ya didn’t think to say anything?”

Aunt Nebula shrugged, “I figured you knew. You’re usually a lot more observant than this, Rocket.”

Dada deflated… Was that the word? Deflated? Yes, that’s it. Dada deflated as he reached towards Song. She slid off the couch and onto his lap, then nuzzled into his chest with a yawn. Dada’s arms encircled her and he traced his fingers along one of the white markings over her eyes. Song felt her eyelids flutter and she yawned again.

“There’s nothing here, Nebs. These things were just made to distract us and get Him out. There ain’t any recording devices. There ain’t even any navigationalistic or tracking systems of any kind that I can find, aside from this frickin’ circuit board that is fried beyond repair.”

“Maybe, if we go through the others, we’ll find a circuit board that’s still in one piece.”

Dada laughed humorlessly. “No, we won’t.” He motioned again to the part he’d called a circuit board with the hand that wasn’t stroking Song’s marking. Song felt her eyes drift closed for a moment. She snapped them open, sitting straighter on Dada’s lap, fighting and loosing a battle with another yawn.

Dada looked down at her and shook his head, but his gaze looked a little amused. He pointed to another piece right by the circuit board, his expression shifting to one of distaste as he glared at it, “I’m sure you recognize that, Nebs.”

Aunt Nebula sucked in a breath, “Another failsafe.”

“Yeah, and it was what fried the circuit board. Not as intricate as the one that was in my chest, and certainly not as…” Dada cut himself off, his gaze drifting down towards Song, this time worry filling his face.

“I know about my failsafe, Dada,” Song said simply. “When Sire wanted Sister…” she took a shaky breath. “He used to threaten to set it off,” she finished quietly.

Dada went silent and still. So did Aunt Nebula.

Then Dada hugged her a little tighter, “We’re gonna find a way to disable it, kiddo. I promise.”

Song nodded, then yawned again as Dada started stroking her brow marking again. Her eyes drifted shut again, against her will. Dada and Aunt Nebula kept talking, but they were starting to sound further and further away.

Rocket breathed a sigh of relief when Song finally passed out. Took her long enough. She’s never fought sleep this long before. Not since that first week.

But then, their lives had just been turned upside down only the day before.

“You okay, Rocket?” Nebula asked softly, voice a touch lower than normal. He glanced at her. Her black eyes were concerned, very concerned. By unspoken agreement, they’d both started talking about little things that weren’t that big a deal until his kid had finally fallen asleep. Now that Song was out of it, though…

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “N-no,” his voice cracked, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. “No, not at all. He’s out there, Nebs. He’s out there, He’s got the code to her failsafe, He can use it anytime He wants. I’ve gotta find a way to get rid of the damn thing.” He felt himself start to panic in a way he hadn’t done in a long time. He tried to control himself, to keep from waking up Song.

Nebula slid down from the couch to sit beside him and, in a move that was completely out of character for her, wrapped an arm awkwardly around his shoulders. He gave her a quizzical look.

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will happily murder you in your sleep,” she threatened with a murderous gleam in her black eyes.

That got a chuckle out of him. He laughed softly, knowing she was serious. She’d do it and wouldn’t think twice about it. How messed up is that? Well, what else could he expect from the woman who’d become his sister during the five years of The Blip.

“Not a word.” His brow creased as he looked at the parts strewn out in front of him, then down to his daughter in his arms, “I can’t lose her, Nebs. I can’t go through what I did during the Snap. Losing Groot almost destroyed me, you saw that. I won’t go through that again. I’ll do anything to keep them both safe. Even if it means turning myself over to Him.”

She didn’t move for a moment, her face thoughtful. Then she pursed her lips, “I don’t think it will come to that. And,” she fixed him with a warning look, “even if it did, none of us would let that happen.”

He held her gaze, “We may not have another option, Nebs.”

“We will. How many times have you and I been backed into a corner together with no way out? How many times have you saved me? How many times have I saved your ungrateful tail?”

He snorted, “You got a point.” His gaze turned serious again, almost begging, “But, Nebs, you gotta promise me. If this comes down to a choice between me and Song, you save Song. You save my kid.”

She nodded slowly, her black eyes unreadable for a moment, “If it comes to that, I will. But it won’t.” He opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off. “The High Evolutionary doesn’t strike me as someone who wastes time, Rocket.”

He gave her a questioning look, one white-marked brow raised, “What are you gettin’ at?”

“Rocket, he’s been free for an entire day. If he’d known about Song, that she’d even survived at all and that her failsafe was still active, don’t you think he would have used that as leverage by now? You just said yourself that these things don’t have any type of recording system.”

That vice-like grip on Rocket’s heart and lungs loosened a little bit, enough for him to start thinking somewhat rationally again. He took a deep breath, “That’s true. But that just means I gotta figure out how to shut hers down as soon as possible.”

“We have to.”

Rocket was already shaking his head, “He’s gonna come after me again, Nebula. I outsmarted Him once. Humiliated Him twice. He knows I’m living on Knowhere and He’ll send others after me. Maybe others as strong as Adam. Maybe teams as strong as Adam.”

“What then, are you just going to go on the run?”

He shook his head again, “No, more like… regrouping. We can’t move against him until I can be sure Song will be okay. I was thinking about going to somewhere on Terra, since Song and I are from there. I doubt He’ll consider that, He ain’t all sentimental. Never has been.”

She nodded, “I get that. But where are you going to go? Avenger’s Headquarters may be rebuilt now, but it’s still too big a target to be completely safe. Maybe you could reach out to Pepper? Her home is very remote and Song would probably like Morgan.”

“Stark’s kid is still pretty small, Nebs. I don’t think Pepper would like me putting her and her kid in danger like that. I mean, He don’t know about Pepper and Morgan, but I’m not willing to chance Him finding out where they live if He does consider me going to Terra.”

“Peter maybe?”

“Quill? Nebs, that’s just creatin’ the same problem. He’s staying with his grandpa, and that old man has to be at least ninety. A humie that old can’t defend himself properly.”

“Then maybe see if you can stay just long enough to figure something else out? I’m sure Peter might know of some places in Missouri. He did spend half his childhood there.”

“I still don’t like it, Nebs. It’s too risky.”

There was a clatter of noise coming through the hallway, meaning that the other inhabitants of the Bowie were about to make an appearance. Nebula stood and looked down at him, “Just ask him, Rocket. It’s not like we can track down wherever Mantis is so you can hide with her.”

“Abso-frickin’-lutely!,” Pete damn near shouted. “You mean I get to actually see my best friend and my niece in person again? I am totally in!”

“Shut up, you moron,” Rocket hissed warningly, his hand covering one of Song’s ears, her other ear pressed to his chest. “Dude. It took me forever to get her to go to sleep, man.”

Pete had the decency to look sheepish as he lowered his voice, “Sorry. But can ya really blame me? I’ve only seen Song, like, once, in person. And she was freaking terrified of me.”

Rocket just gave him a look, “You talk to her almost every day when you check in with us.”

“Yeah, but like I said, this’ll be in person.”

“Didn’t you just hear me say that this might put your grandpa at risk?”

“And me staying at his house doesn’t?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t heard of a megalomaniac trying to track you down for your brain,” Rocket sassed back.

“Yeah, but we did manage to piss off a lot of bad guys when I was the Captain. The Kree for one.”

Pete did have a point.

“Besides, Grandpa and Grams won’t mind. I’m pretty sure they’d be beyond thrilled to have a kid in the house again. Grandpa still has my old swingset out in the back yard. And a few boxes of my old toys are still in the attic.”

“Grams? I thought-“

“Grandpa remarried. She’s pretty cool.”

“Look man, just ask them. I don’t want to intrude, I just-“

Pete gave him a look, “Seriously, dude. Don’t sweat it.” The man’s expression turned serious, “Nebula called before you did. She said you’re gonna bring the High Douchebag’s files with you. She didn’t want you looking at that shit by yourself and I think she’s right.”

Rocket’s ears flattened to his skull, “Only ‘cause she can literally kill you with one hand.” He’d told Nebula his plans to bring the files with him in confidence. Those files his family had lifted from OrgoCorp and the headpiece Pete and Groot had stripped from that Recorder were the only places he could think of to even begin to look for the clues he’d need to shut off Song’s failsafe. Maybe he would even find the shut-down code itself. Wishful thinking, that. I really should know better by now. Things ain’t ever that easy.

“Hey, don’t be mad at Nebula. She called me to let me know about the attack on Knowhere.” Pete’s gaze turned serious, a little accusing, and a little hurt, “I mean, I know that you were strapped for options and needed help asap, but you had time to at least give me a heads-up, man.”

Rocket huffed, “Yeah? All that was gonna do was make you worry when you couldn’t do a damn thing.”

Pete stared at him, “All the same, we’re family. Even if I’m too far away, I think I deserve to know.”

Rocket rolled his eyes, “Okay, fine.”

Pete nodded, not pushing the issue any further, “And give Nebula a break, she’s worried too.”

Rocket sighed, then pointed a finger warningly at the half-Terran, “Fine. But if anyone else finds out, I will shoot you, Star-Munch.”

Pete, of course, did not take him seriously, “Awwww. I love you too, best friend.”

Rocket growled, showing his teeth. Song shifted in her sleep and he patted her back as he glared at Pete, “Strangle. I’m gonna strangle ya first, then I’ll shoot ya.”

Pete was still laughing when Rocket cut the connection.

Chapter Text

“But why does Groot have to stay behind?” Song watched her Dada as he packed what little clothes they had left into an old rucksack. Cana had been by only moments before with a few new jumpsuits for Song as the rest had burned with their home. Dada had been very surprised but had managed a quick ‘thank you’ as Cana had turned to leave.

Luckily for Song, Cana hadn’t had enough time to make any more horrible shoes. Unluckily enough for her, Groot had found the boots she’d purposefully lost while playing with Phylla before Dada and the rest of the Guardians had left on the last mission.

Groot sat in the hallway outside her and Dada’s room, leaning forward a little to be able to look in on them. “I am Groot,” he stated simply.

“I don’t care that you make us a target, Groot. You’re my brother. We should be staying together.”

“I am Groot.”

Song slid from the bed and trotted over to where Dada was standing at the dresser and reached out with a little hand to grip the belt loop of his soft pants. She tugged a little to get his attention, “Dada, Groot has to come, we have to stay together-“

“I am Groot.”

Her Dada stopped packing long enough to lay a hand on top of Song’s head, “I don’t like it either, kiddo. But, like I said earlier, Groot and I already talked about this. He will be coming for me and just about anyone who’s anyone knows that I’m usually wherever Groot is. And, if we do stay together, He’ll find you too and He’ll hurt you to get to me. I can’t risk that.”

Song tugged on his belt loop again, “But if we’re not with Groot, Sire will just hurt him instead of me.”

“I am Groot.”

Song turned to her brother, growling as deeply as she could. Which, of course, wasn’t deeply at all. Her ears were pinned back and her tail wagged as she fixed him with a glare, “No, you can’t!”

Her Dada shivered, which caused Song to freeze and look up at him worriedly, “You okay, Dada?”

Dada shook himself, “Just… Don’t say ‘can’t’ like that. Not… not like He did. Okay?”

“Ookaay,” Song answered, drawing the word out in her puzzlement.

Dada huffed and muttered to himself quickly before setting the rucksack down. He knelt in front of her and put one hand on her shoulder, the other rested on his thigh. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know how scary this can be, separatin’ like this… But it’s the only way to keep everyone safe.” His tail swished and his ears turned back, “It’s the only frickin’ thing I can think of, anyway.”

“Sire will come after Groot, Dada,” Song reiterated stubbornly.

“I am Groot. I am Groot.”

Dada sighed again, “He probably will come after Groot, but He won’t find him. Groot and the rest of the Guardians are goin’ on missions until we can figure out how to shut off your kill switch. Kraglin’s picking the missions out randomly with Howard’s help. They won’t be takin’ any jobs that are linked and they won’t be followin’ any set route.”

“I am Groot.”

Song felt a few tears fall. Dada reached to wipe them away, but she pulled her head away from him, pushed his other hand off her shoulder, and ran to Groot. Her big brother scooped her up in the palm of his hand and held her to his cheek as she sobbed.

“I am Groot. I am Groot. I am Groot,” he chanted as softly as he was capable.

Rocket felt his tail go limp. His daughter had never pushed him away before. He stayed where he was, kneeling on the floor, and watched as Groot tried to console Song. His ears flattened to his skull as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. He’d thought he was getting better with all this emotionalistical stuff but, apparently, he still had a long way to go.

“I am Groot.”

Song, still crying, nodded to her brother, and Groot set her down gently. Slowly, she walked back to him. She paused, wringing her little hands together in front of her as she hiccupped. “I’m s-sorry, D-Dada.”

Rocket reached out and stroked her white brow marking. She wouldn’t look at him, her little eyes were glued to the floor.

She sniffed, “I-I kn-know y-you d-don’t w-want t-to l-leave G-Groot e-either.”

“Baby girl, look at me.”

She sniffed again and a few more fat tears fell down her cheeks, but she finally looked up to meet his eyes. Rocket realized her face was a little fuller and slightly fluffier, not as narrow as it had been when she’d fallen from the air duct. How did I miss that?

He gave her a pained smile as he wiped the tears away, “I don’t want to leave your brother, he’s my kid just as much as you are. And I don’t want to leave Knowhere. This is our home. It should be safe, but right now it isn’t. Not for you, me, or Groot. I wish things weren’t like this, but they are.”

“What a-about A-Aunt N-Nebula? And U-Uncle D-Drax?”

“Your aunt and uncle are staying here. They’re pretty sure that He’ll follow Groot.”

“I am Groot.”

Song nodded, looking miserable, “I a-am s-sorry I p-pushed you a-away, Dada.”

Rocket cupped her chin, making sure she kept looking at him, “I get it, kiddo.” It frickin’ hurt, but I get it. “Just… I get it.” She may be growing up but she’s still so little. She doesn’t mean any of this, she’s just scared. I’ve gotta keep that in mind. She was still just a kid and he was gonna make sure she stayed as innocent as possible for as long as he could. He had to. He didn’t want her to grow up overnight like he’d been forced to.

“Y-you’re n-not m-mad at m-m-me?” Her voice trembled and her lower lip wobbled as she shrunk in on herself, shoulders hunched as she wrung her little fingers harder. She looked worried, almost scared.

Rocket felt his heart sink as his tail swished. She hasn’t acted like this in weeks. He nuzzled his nose against hers, more briefly and gently than Lylla had done to him when he’d seen her in that… afterlife for a better word. The way he did it to Song was exactly like how he’d seen a few refugee parents do to their kids in the marketplace. Pete had called it something like ‘Eskimo kiss’, or something similar. His half-Terran best friend had then gone quiet, mumbled something about his mom, and then had walked away.

Well, whatever it was called seemed to work. Song rushed forward to hug his neck, “I-I’m s-so s-sorry, D-Dada. I-I love y-you.”

“I know you do, and I love you too. And I could never, ever, be mad at you. It’s okay. You’re okay. You got nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, kiddo.”

“I am Groot.”

When the bones are good, the rest don’t matter.

Rocket had picked this particular song to listen to during the sleep cycle because the music was soothing. Now that he was listening to the words, he realized that it may not have been a good idea to pick this particular song. It was too frickin’… insightful and brought everything he’d had to deal with in terms of the High Evolutionary to the forefront of his mind. Both what happened long ago and what had happened more recently. Granted, the song itself was talking about overcomin’ things together, but still…

Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter.

He looked over to his right to the co-pilot’s chair of the M-Ship he’d decided to take to Terra, wanting to just check on Song as she’d refused to sleep anywhere else on their trip. His ears flicked with surprise when his light brown eyes met her dark brown ones.

He huffed in exasperation, “Kiddo.”

She lifted her little head from where she was curled up under his jacket. “I am trying to sleep, Dada. I promise. It’s…” Her little nose scrunched up like it always did when she got stuck on her words and he bit back a chuckle when she snarled in frustration at herself. That had to have been the cutest sound he’d ever heard her make.

He leaned on the controls to turn towards her a little and waited patiently, trying to block out the song playing as it kept going on about bad things happening and not mattering. He really should just change it but he didn’t want to break Song’s focus. He’d learned that whenever she got stuck like this that it wasn’t because she couldn’t think. It was because her little brain was going over a hundred jump-points a second and she just needed a moment to rein it in. She was so extremely intelligent that she got in her own way sometimes.

Her little nose twitched again while her eyes scrunched up in distaste, like she’d finally decided what to say but still didn’t seem to think the words fit. She said them anyway, “My brain won’t shut up.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Yeah? What about?”

She looked at the stars in wonder, much like she’d had when they’d left Knowhere’s atmosphere. “I thought the market was big, Dada. But that, out there… Dada, it’s huge.”

“It is, isn’t it?” That wasn’t what was keeping her up, but Rocket indulged her anyway. They had a bit of a trip ahead of them. She’d get to what was botherin’ her eventually, unlike him she wasn’t one to hold things back for long. At least she’s not whining.

“It kind of makes you think big thoughts.”

He smiled softly as he eased back into the pilot’s chair. Big thoughts. He shook his head as he bit back another chuckle, “Yeah, like what?”

“Like…” she paused again and he watched quietly as her ears flicked. “Like, everything had to happen like it did.” She shook her little head like she still wasn’t quite sure those were the words she wanted to say.

Rocket’s brow creased in confusion, “Are you talkin’ about Him, kiddo?”

Song met his eyes and her ears turned towards him, “Yes. No…” She huffed impatiently and he realized she was mimicking him when he got irritated. “Sort of. Maybe not.”

Well, that was confusing as hell.

“It makes me think how small we are, Dada.”

He didn’t know quite how to respond to that. “Well, we are raccoons.”

She rolled her eyes so hard that her head rolled with the expression, exactly like he did whenever he’d get irritated with Drax. This time he didn’t bite back the chuckle.

Song rolled her eyes at him again, “That’s not what I meant, Dada.”

“Well, what did ya mean, kiddo?” This time, he turned completely in the pilot’s chair, leaning his side against the backrest as he watched her, arms folded across his chest.

“Everything had to happen. Everything good, everything bad. If it didn’t… We wouldn’t be here.” One of her ears flicked back uncertainly. “If one thing was different then maybe I wouldn’t have been born. Maybe Sister wouldn’t have been… Maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

Shit. Rocket had known she was intelligent, but he hadn’t realized she was this intelligent. He really was gonna have to start watching what he said in front of her, even more than he had been.

She tilted her head, “But I’m here. Sister was real. And you’re here, Dada. And Groot, and Uncle Drax, and Aunt Nebula, and everyone else.” Her ears flicked as she pulled the end of her little tail into her lap, “And I know there’s something very bad that happened before I was born and you won’t tell me, Dada.” She looked back at the stars, then back at him, “And that’s okay too, I guess. Because the way everyone back home talks, you fixed that bad thing. You made it go away.”

“It wasn’t just me, kiddo. I was… a very small part of all that.”

She tilted her head, looking thoughtful again. Rocket wondered what other ‘big thoughts’ were going through that little head of hers. “But you were still a part of it, Dada. I don’t know what a screw is, but I do remember that you told me a lot of machines won’t work without it being in the right place.”

You still have a purpose here. Lylla’s gentle face flashed before his eyes. His breath hitched a little and he coughed to cover it up as he turned his head to look out the viewport. Lylla would have loved Song. So would Floor and Teefs. And Song would have loved them. He turned forward again and leaned against the backrest, his tail flicking to the side.

“Dada? You okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered, voice gravelly. “Just thinkin’.”

Song was quiet for a moment. Then there was the whisper of fabric and Rocket turned his gaze back to his daughter as she slid out of the co-pilot’s seat and walked over to him, dragging his jacket behind her like some kids back on Knowhere would drag an old, well-loved blanket. She climbed up into the chair and snuggled into the space between him and the armrest, pulling at his jacket to straighten it out enough to cover her lap. She leaned into him and was quiet for long enough that he’d thought she’d finally fallen asleep.

“Dada?”

Apparently, she was still wide-awake and thinking ‘big thoughts’.

“Yeah?”

She scooted closer to him and nuzzled into his side. “What I’m meaning is… I’m glad you’re my Dada.”

Rocket smiled down at her and wrapped his arm around her to give her a quick squeeze before pulling his arm away to adjust the controls. “Me too, kiddo. Me too.”

She looked down at his jacket, fiddling with a sleeve and then bracing herself as he piloted them through a jump-point. Once they were through, she kept playing with the sleeve.

The Zune had cycled through a few songs during their little talk and now was softly playing The Dog Days Are Over.

“Dada?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m excited to see Uncle Pete.”

He looked down at her with a little confusion. She didn’t sound excited. “But?”

She pursed her lips a little, like Nebula did sometimes, “I want to see him. I want to go. But I don’t want to go too. I want to go home. I miss Groot. I miss everyone. I feel bad because I should be more excited to see Uncle Pete. It’s not fair to Uncle Pete that I’m not as excited as I should be.” She sounded worried, really worried. This must be what’s buggin’ her.

He chuckled and ruffled the fur on the top of her head, “Ain’t nothin’ wrong in missing everybody, kiddo. I miss those idiots too.” He then reached down to ruffle the fur under her ear, “The way you’re feelin’ right now just means you care about them the same way you care about your uncle. Trust me, he understands.”

“You’re sure about that, Dada?”

He gave her a toothy grin and winked exaggeratedly at her. “Abso-frickin’-lutely.”

She giggled and winked back at him, trying to copy him exactly which made him laugh.

“Any more big thoughts in that little head of yours, kiddo?”

Song leaned into Rocket's side and yawned as he steered them around a stray asteroid, “I don’t think so, Dada. Not now. Maybe later.” She yawned hugely. “I love you, Dada. Bunches and,” she yawned again, “bunches.”

“Love you too, baby girl. Go to sleep. I’ll wake ya up when we get there.”

Chapter Text

“So, what’s the occasion?” Banner asked with a raised brow.

Rocket had the camera of his communicator zeroed in on his own face, being sure that it didn’t capture Song’s image as she slept curled into his side. He didn’t have a problem with Big Green knowing about Song, but ever since they’d brought everyone back and SHIELD, or SPEAR, whatever the hell it was called as he couldn’t care less, was being rebuilt any links to Terran technology from the outside were being monitored. Fury had made that extremely clear to the Guardians before they’d left Terra after Stark’s memorial service. To Rocket it had seemed like it was more of a friendly reminder than the warning that Fury had tried to make it appear to be.

Rocket was inclined to think that maybe Fury was okay, maybe more than just a little intense, but he had seen some of the people the man worked with and reported to. Some of the old bastards had such a high opinion of themselves that he had literally smelled the entitlement on them, even the ones who’d been left behind by the Blip. The looks on several of the old bastards’ faces when they’d learned that the Guardians were outside of their control… Well needless to say Rocket had been a complete asshole the day they’d had to meet with them. Too many of them were like Him and Rocket really had tried to take a few of them down a couple of pegs. That had been before Rodgers had gone back in time with the Stones and the man himself had stepped forward and had firmly reminded the Board, or whatever they were called, that if it hadn’t been for Rocket’s part in their so-called Time Heist, that most of them wouldn’t be alive. Rodgers had then shot a disapproving look at Rocket, who, of course, had just winked at him.

“Rocket?”

“Sorry, Big Green, just thinking about Stark.” That wasn’t entirely true though, and Banner knew it. Before the Guardians had left with Thor, Rocket had worked with Banner on setting up secure forms of communication, just in case. His immediate distrust of most people wouldn’t let him leave Terra without having some kind of precaution in place, even though that precaution would probably never be put into effect. That one line he’d said really meant that something was possibly going down, and the bigwigs didn’t need to hear it. At least until they knew more about whatever the hell it was…

“Sorry, lost the signal. If you can hear me, I’m going to try to reset the link.” Another lie. Banner was turning on the security program that Rocket had enlisted Nebula’s help with installing in the communicators of all the remaining Avengers. Even Barton had one of the specialized communicators, even though the man had made it clear that he never intended to use it. Rocket had a sneaking suspicion the man only took it to make him happy. Sure Barton had seemed a little unnerved by Rocket’s appearance at first, but the man had still made it a point to return the Milano to him. Even though he’d just watched Romanoff, his best friend, die.

“All set up, Rocket. What’s going on?”

“I’m about to enter airspace over Missouri, and I wanted to give ya a heads-up so you could tell SPEAR-“

“SHIELD.”

“Whatever. I don’t want to deal with ‘em right now. I got enough problems on my hands right now and I don’t need to deal with their uppity attitudes at the moment.”

“Missouri? Where Quill’s from?” Banner looked a little confused. Then his expression became worried, “You’re going to pick up Quill, aren’t you? This link was meant for use in case of possible threats, to keep SHIELD from freaking out before we had enough intel… We’re not about to deal with one of those type of threats, are we?”

Rocket rolled his eyes, “Nah, nothin’ like that. Just takin’ the kid to spend time with her ‘Uncle Pete’.” Banner didn’t need to know about the High Evolutionary. And neither did SHIELD. It’s not like He’s gonna show up and cause trouble on Terra anyway. He don’t have that kind of firepower and He’s too much of a frickin’ coward to try somethin’ that stupid.

I hope.

“Kid? You have a kid? Since when?”

“Countin’ Groot?” Rocket tilted his head, “Several years. Song’s only been around, in Terran time, about a month and a half or so.” He paused. When he said it like that… he hadn’t actually realized that his little girl had only been in his life for such a short amount of time.

That realization shocked him.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve got a newborn with you!?” Banner looked completely dumbfounded. “Uh, congrats?”

Rocket’s ears flicked, and he gave Banner a look of complete disbelief. After what felt like several moments he finally snorted, rolling his eyes, “Don’t be stupid. You got, like, seven PhDs and you’re not frickin’ using a single one of ‘em. What the hell would I be doin’ with a newborn? Who would frickin’ trust me like that?”

Song chose that exact moment to wake up. “That’s a bad word, Dada,” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing at her eyes. He looked down at her as she yawned hugely. She then looked up at him with a copy of one of his own irritated looks, “We’re not supposed to say words like that. You said so.”

Rocket rolled his eyes again, “No, I told you that you’re not supposed to say stuff like that.”

“I don’t see how that makes any sense, Dada. If a word is bad for one person to say, wouldn’t it be bad for everyone to say? Including you?”

Rocket adjusted the communicator, widening the range of the camera as he rolled his eyes yet again.

Banner’s eyes widened as his gaze fell on Song, who’d realized immediately that the big green stranger’s face that Rocket had been talking to could now see her. She, predictably, shrank back and flattened herself against Rocket’s side in an attempt to hide. He patted her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

It didn’t work.

Banner smiled kindly at her, “Hi there. You must be Song.”

Song nodded slowly, the side of her face smushed up against Rocket’s ribs.

“She’s a cute kid, Rocket. And she looks a lot like you.” Banner was one of the very few Avengers who’d eventually learned that Rocket had been an experiment and that he was the only one of his kind.

Until now, of course.

Rocket’s expression turned a little pained, “She…” he grimaced, “came from the same place.”

Banner didn’t look too happy about that, but didn’t say anything further about it. “You’re certain we’re not about to deal with another Thanos level threat? Or any kind of threat?”

Rocket shook his head, “Nah. Just don’t want SPAR-“

“SHIELD.”

“Again, whatever, I don’t care. I just don’t want ‘em to get all hyped up that I’m here and I don’t want them knowin’ anything about Song. She’s not a fighter, Big Green.”

“And you think they’re going to listen to me?”

“They’re more inclined to listen to Fury a little bit more than they’d listen to you, but I don’t know the guy well enough to reach out to him like this. Or to tell him anythin’ about my kid. Besides, I had a few questions for you.”

Banner looked confused, “Like what?”

“Song’s a bit of a reader and she don’t have a translator yet, so she can only read Terran sh- uhh… stuff. I’m probably gonna ask Quill to find her some Terran books, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy read.”

Song shifted beside Rocket, causing him to look down at her. Her little ears were pricked fully forward towards Banner and her dark brown eyes were wide. Judging by her expression, she was taking in every word. He smiled softly, shaking his head before he turned his face back toward Banner’s image. Shoulda known talking about books and readin’ would make her forget that she’s supposed to be pretendin’ to be shy.

Banner rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve never really been around little kids all that much, Rocket. I doubt I’d even know about any books at her reading level. You’d be better off asking Pepper. I might be able to find a few if you give me some time.”

“Her readin’ level ain’t the problem, Big Green. Kid reads anythin’ she can get her little hands on. Thor already caught on that she was readin’ Lovecraft. I know that sh- stuff’s horror fiction… now.” Song shifted uneasily beside Rocket. He wrapped his arm around her, “Over and done with, kiddo.” He addressed Banner again, “We don’t have any of her books with us, so… what I need to know now is if there’s anythin’ in Lord of the Rings that I should be concerned about.” That had been his daughter’s favorite book and, even though they weren’t going to Terra for books, Rocket wanted to try to find it again if he could. Song had sobbed when they’d found the burned spine of her favorite book.

“It’s The Lord of the Rings, Dada. There’s a ‘The’ at the beginning of the book’s name.” Song shook her head irritably at him. Her voice turned sad, “And it was The Fellowship of the Ring that we lost, Dada. The first book you gave me.”

They’d parked the M-Ship in a forest a little under two miles away from Quill’s grandparents’ house, under the cover of darkness. Using the Aero-Rig had been out of the question as they didn’t need to draw attention to themselves. Rocket had offered to carry Song, but she’d looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m not little anymore, Dada,” she’d insisted matter-of-factly, much to his amusement. So, of course, less than halfway through the first mile, Rocket had ended up carrying her piggyback as she kept complaining that her feet hurt.

“Kiddo, I don’t know how your feet can still be hurting after only walking for just a few minutes.”

“But they do hurt, Dada.”

“Maybe wearing boots ain’t such a bad idea, huh?”

“Hmph.”

It was worth a shot. Rocket chuckled softly to himself as they came up on the back fence for the Quill property. “Hold on, kiddo.”

“Do we have to jump over the fence, Dada? Can’t we just walk up to the front door? Didn’t you say we were raccoons and that raccoons are from Earth?”

Rocket threw the rucksack over the fence as he chuckled again. “Humies ain’t used to seeing raccoons like us. The raccoons on Terra are just like the other raccoons on Knowhere. Ain’t no one like us, ‘cept us.”

Song was quiet as he climbed to the top of the fence.

“Except for Sister. And the other thirteen between you and Sister and me.”

Rocket froze at the top of the fence, ears pinned back. The other thirteen? He’d suspected as much, but to hear his little girl actually confirm it…

He sighed as he dropped down to the ground inside the fence, landing beside the rucksack. Song slid from his back. “Dada?”

Thirteen. All those little kids they hadn’t been able to save… He shook himself. Worryin’ about that ain’t gonna fix a damn thing. He sighed again and met her eyes, “Nothin’, kiddo.” He nodded to the back door. A glass door. What kinda frickin’ security is that? “Why don’t you go knock on the door, kiddo. Let your uncle know we’re here.”

“Okay!” she squeaked happily and dashed towards the door.

Rocket turned his gaze away, just enough to pick up the rucksack and sling it back over his shoulder. His personal file and the Recorder’s headgear were secured in another, smaller bag slung across his chest. It was the lightest bag they’d brought, but it felt so damn heavy.

There was an angry hissing sound and Song shrieked.

“Dada!”

Rocket’s head whipped up as Song scurried back to him on all fours, gripping his pants leg tightly once she reached him. One of his pistols was already in his hand, at the ready. Song scooted behind him, still gripping his pants leg, and Rocket’s ears slid sideways as he rolled his eyes.

He then snarled with bared teeth at the large, orange-striped cat that had chased his little girl halfway through the yard. A cat. The cat yowled back, arching its spine and bristling its tail. A frickin’ brave cat. But it was still a frickin’ cat. It was bigger than any of the cats they’d rescued from the Areta, but its head barely came to his hip.

Ronan, Taserface, Ego, Thanos… even Him. And here Rocket was, having a standoff with a cat.

Mildly irritated, he snarled again. Song whimpered behind him, one little hand reaching up to grab a hold of his beltloop and hold on for dear life.

“Buttons! Get out of here! Go!” The cat streaked off at the sound of Pete’s voice, leaping over the fence with a lot more grace than Rocket had.

Buttons?

“Uncle Pete!” Song shrieked happily, completely forgetting how terrified she’d just been. She dashed past some old playground equipment toward the half-Terran, who kneeled to scoop her up. “Hi, Uncle Pete!”

“Hey sweetie! Look at you, you’re getting so big!”

“What the frick am I, chopped orloni?” Rocket snarked, walking up to them with a smirk on his face as he holstered his pistol.

Pete rolled his eyes, reaching out to clap Rocket on his shoulder. “Missed you too, bud. Sorry about Buttons.”

“Buttons? What kind of frickin’ name is that?”

Pete stood with Song perched on his shoulder, just like Groot had done when he’d been little, “I know, right? He’s the neighbor’s cat. Grams has been feeding him scraps lately, but that’s probably gonna stop now.” Pete reached out to take the rucksack, then looked pointedly at the smaller bag, “Those the files?”

“Yeah.”

Pete motioned with his free hand, “Give.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Give.”

Rocket clutched the strap for the bag slung across his chest. “Quill,” he started to warn, but he stopped when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Song had tilted her head, little ears flicking back as she watched him uncertainly.

He huffed and gave up, pulling the strap over his head so that he could hand the bag over.

Pete had the decency to look at least a little apologetic as he took the bag, “Sorry, man. Nebula made me swear.”

“Swearing is bad, Uncle Pete,” Song said sternly, wagging her little finger at her uncle from her perch on his shoulder. "And you and Aunt Nebula shouldn't swear."

Pete laughed, shaking his head as he walked into the house, “Not that kind of swearing, sweetie. It was a promise.”

She tilted her little head curiously, both ears pricked, “A swear can be both a bad word and a promise?”

“More like one or the other. Typically not both at the same time,” Rocket clarified, following Pete inside.

She hummed thoughtfully, “But a swear as a promise is not just any promise. It’s a very important promise, by the way you were talking, Uncle Pete. Right?”

“God, she’s quick,” Pete observed as he closed the glass door behind them and set their bags on the kitchen counter.

Rocket leaned against the counter and looked up to give Song a proud smile, “You have no idea. Just the little bit you heard from her during all those calls… just the tip of the iceberg, man.”

“Tip of the iceberg? What does that mean, Dada?”

Chapter Text

Rocket and Pete had talked for several hours in the Quills’ living room. Song spoke up here and there to fill her uncle in on things she thought were very important that her uncle had missed out on in the past several weeks.

The later it got the quieter Song became until she finally slid from Pete’s lap and off the couch. Pete chuckled quietly as she stumbled to Rocket, stopped in front of his chair, and simply lifted her little arms.

Rocket leaned forward and picked her up, cradling her close, “Tired, kiddo?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled. She yawned and rubbed her little eyes.

Rocket started stroking one of her white eye markings again as he and Pete kept talking. That had seemed to, surprisingly, work on her a few days ago. He smirked as she yawned again and her eyes drifted shut. She mumbled and nuzzled into him as her breathing evened out.

Pete had started laughing quietly again and Rocket gave him an irritated look. “What?”

Pete smirked back, “Nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

“Just, I mean, you did mostly care for Groot when he was little, but that has got to be one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Rocket rolled his eyes, “Glad you’re amused, Star Munch.”

Pete rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, it’s nice to see Song in person when she’s not terrified of everyone around her. You’re really good with her.”

“Eh,” Rocket tilted his head, adjusting a now sleeping Song so her neck and tail wouldn’t hurt when she woke up. “It still feels like I don’t know what the frick I’m doin' half the frickin’ time.”

Pete gave him an incredulous look, then shook his head, “Coulda fooled me, man.”

Rocket just looked at him with eyebrows raised. “Speaking of parentin’, where are your grandparents?”

“Bed. You guys did get here after ten and it’s,” Pete paused to pick up a cell phone that had been laying on the coffee table beside the couch. “Holy shit! It’s frickin’ two-thirty in the morning!”

At Pete’s outburst, Rocket clamped his hand on one of Song’s ears, making sure that the other was firmly pressed to his chest. “Dude,” he hissed. Song fidgeted but stayed asleep, thankfully.

Pete gave him an apologetic look, “Sorry.”

“Yeah? If you wake her up and she’s crabby, you’re gonna be the one takin’ care of her.”

Pete chuckled and Rocket glowered. Pete shook his head, smirking again, “I doubt Song will let that happen, what with I’ve seen so far. You have got her spoiled, man.”

Rocket rolled his eyes, “She ain’t spoiled, Pete. She ain't much older than a baby.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Pete admonished with a chuckle. “Kraglin said she hates it.”

Rocket rolled his eyes, but chuckled too.

”So… Uncle Pete. That’s new.” Pete chuckled again, “Not that I’m complaining, but she wasn’t exactly calling you Dada before either.”

Rocket smiled softly, thinking back to the first time Song had called him that, “Yeah, she started the whole ‘Dada’ thing during the first mission with the new team and it just… stuck.” Rocket found himself start to choke up a little. He cleared his throat, “That whole aunt and uncle thing started after those… things were finally done for.”

Pete’s expression turned serious. “Something’s been bothering me since you and Nebula called after the attack. You told me coming here was to keep Song safe while you tried to figure out how to shut off her kill switch.”

Rocket tensed and Pete immediately noticed.

“See, what I thought is this. It only took me, Groot, and Gamora, like maybe five minutes to find the code for yours once we had the Recorder’s headpiece. And the three of us ain’t exactly known for being tech savvy.”

“Pete,” Rocket warned.

“So, even if the High Douchebag used a different code for Song than he did for you, it’s not gonna take long to find it in the Recorder’s headgear. Definitely not long enough for you to go into hiding like this. The new team’s looking for him, aren’t they?”

Rocket bristled but forced himself to calm down. “Almost figured it out, moron.”

Pete rolled his eyes, “Fine, Nebula and Drax are looking for him.”

“Drax is raisin’ the kids. Nebula is lookin’ for clues.” Rocket had told Song the truth when he’d said that her aunt and uncle were staying on Knowhere… at least until it was time to go after Him. “Nebs is supposed to call me when she thinks she’s pinpointed His bolthole. The team’s just supposed to be drawin’ his attention away from Knowhere in the meantime.”

“’Cause you think that he’ll think that you’ll be wherever Groot is.”

“Yeah.”

“And Song’s not safe with the team or on Knowhere until the High Douchebag’s locked up again.” Pete looked irritated, “Why the hell didn’t you think to tell me, man? I thought we talked about this. You gotta start keeping me in the loop.”

“I was gonna tell ya, Pete.”

“Before or after you guys found him?”

Rocket’s ears flicked back. “Pete, you’ve got a life here, man. I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t hesitate-“

“Of course I wouldn’t hesitate, Rocket. You’re my best friend. Song’s my niece. Just because I left to reconnect with my grandpa doesn’t mean you guys stopped being my family. I’m not replacing you guys.”

Rocket’s ears, still turned back, flattened against his head. “I know that,” he answered quietly. “It’s just… you guys coulda died facing him. I couldn’t stop the team, Groot, Nebula, or Drax this time, but I was hopin’-“

“That by keeping me and Mantis in the dark that at least the two of us would be out of the way.”

“That you guys would stay safe.”

“Rocket-“

“I lost my first family to Him, Pete. I got lucky I didn’t lose you guys too. I don’t want to risk-“

“Not your decision to make, buddy. As long as he’s still out there, Song’s not safe. Neither are you. And, as your family, I gotta do something. It’s my job to look out for the both of you.” Pete looked away from him, mumbling under his breath, but Rocket’s sensitive ears picked up what his best friend said, “It’s my frickin’ fault for not killing the bastard in the first place.”

“Pete-“

Pete looked back at him, his expression determined now, “We’re family. We look out for each other. End of story.”

Rocket opened his mouth to respond, but realized he couldn’t find the words. He shook his head and glared at Pete, “Moron.”

Sunshine woke Song up. She looked around, seeing a room she’d never seen before. Compared to her Dada’s room and the rest of the rooms in the Guardians’ headquarters on Knowhere, the room was pristine and white. No metal plated walls or metal grate floors. Flowery designs were on the soft curtains hanging in front of the window. The blanket she was curled up on was a soft creamy beige color.

Even the air smelled… flowery. And it smelled a little like Uncle Pete too, more than the living room had. But she didn’t see him.

Dada was on his side, curled around her and snoring. Song bit back a giggle, she didn’t want to wake up Dada. He’d looked tired last night when they’d arrived at Uncle Pete’s house, which was the reason she’d asked about using the front door instead of climbing the fence.

Thankfully Dada’s arm wasn’t wrapped around her like it usually was so Song scooted towards the edge of the bed and looked down. It wasn’t very far to the floor since the top of the bed was just a little higher than Aunt Nebula’s bed back home. Song sat up and slipped off the bed, landing feet first with a soft little thump on the carpet. She paused with one ear turned back and waited.

Dada kept snoring.

Song nodded to herself and then looked around the room a little more. There was another bed with a beige blanket that was tousled messily on top of it. She walked over to it and took a big sniff and, sure enough, it smelled just like Uncle Pete. But where is Uncle Pete now?

Sounds of voices came through into the room and Song’s ears twitched forward towards the doorway. Instead of a hatch that slid shut, this doorway had an… old-fashioned? Yeah, old-fashioned… old-fashioned door that swung back and forth. The doorknob was in the middle of one side, well out of Song’s reach, but that didn’t matter as it was cracked open. Uncle Pete must have left the door open.

The space was just big enough that Song could walk through without even touching the door. Dada would have had to pull it open.

Once she was through the door, Song turned her head to look back.  She could now see Dada where he was still curled up on the bed, still fast asleep.

Song paused, indecisive and maybe just a little scared. Obviously they were at Uncle Pete’s grandparents’ house still and were safe otherwise Dada wouldn’t be sleeping this soundly. Uncle Pete was still somewhere in the house and Song was safe with him too. And, logically, she would be safe with his grandparents if they were to find her wandering through their house.

But she didn’t like being away from her Dada. She didn’t like it one bit.

A really good smell wafted in the air around her and her stomach rumbled loudly. She froze and Dada didn’t even stir.

She didn’t like being away from Dada, but she was starving. She looked around her and saw a plush carpeted hallway with two more doors one way. Down the other way was what looked like a staircase. From where she stood it looked like there was some kind of framed pictures hanging on the wall and they reminded Song a little bit of the drawings she and Groot had made over the past several weeks. Song stopped and looked at the pictures, feeling sad that Dada didn’t have the drawings anymore. I’ll have to see if Uncle Pete has crayons and paper I can borrow so I can make Dada more.

I’ll have to make sure to take some paper and crayons home to Groot too.

Song shook her head. That was a problem for later. Right now she needed to find food for her and Dada. He would be hungry too when he woke up.

No, I need to find Uncle Pete first. Then I can find food for me and Dada. She knew she was safe, but being this far away from Dada or Uncle Pete made her more nervous than she’d thought it would.

She turned her ears fully forward and was able to pick up the sound of the voices, two of which she didn’t recognize. The third… Uncle Pete!

She ran towards the stairs and skidded to a stop just a hairsbreadth away from the edge. Stairs, she thought irritably as she wrinkled her little nose in distaste. At least she was a little taller than she had been the first time she’d had to deal with them after she’d met Dada. Dada had offered a hand to help her, chuckling to himself the whole time. Song had still been too nervous back then to ask Dada what he thought was so funny.

Nevermind that now, I’ve got to find Uncle Pete.

Slowly, she climbed down each stair by getting on her hands and knees and scooting down them backwards. It took quite a bit longer than she would have liked to get to the bottom, but it couldn’t be helped. She sighed and shook her head.

The really good smell was stronger down here. It smelled a lot like Uncle Drax’s doughnuts but not as sweet.

The voices were stronger too and Song could finally make out what they were saying now.

“You sure they’ll like pancakes? They are from space,” said the woman’s voice. She sounded older than Aunt Nebula and Aunt Mantis. Maybe as old as Grandma Cana?

“Ginny, sweetheart, Pete told us they’re both raccoons. I’m very certain they’ll like pancakes. Given how many times their relatives have been in our trash can.”

“Jason.”

“What, Ginny? It’s the truth, sweetheart.” That was the old man’s voice.

“Yeah, but Rocket is a little… sensitive about the dumpster diving thing Gramps.” That was Uncle Pete. “I mean, he did just find out that he’s a raccoon.”

Song nodded her head, even though they couldn’t see her. Dada had taken Raccoon as his last name, but Song remembered seeing him grimace a little when they had seen one of the normal raccoons, once it was big enough, dive headfirst into one of the dumpsters. Song had giggled as the raccoon’s tubby little butt had gotten stuck on the dumpster’s side, tail and short back legs wriggling before the little guy had finally managed to get himself unstuck. Dada had chuckled too, but Song believed it was more because she hadn’t been able to stop giggling for a long time. He’d still been grimacing as they’d walked past.

Song sniffed again, then walked slowly through the living room to the door of the kitchen. Once she reached the doorway, she plastered herself to one side of the doorframe until she could see what was going on. Uncle Pete was standing at the counter beside some kind of heating element. An older darker skinned woman was standing in front of the element, cooking whatever it was that was making the good smell. The old man was sitting at the table, reading a large piece of paper that was covered in Terran writing. Song forgot about Uncle Pete and food for a moment as she wrung her hands. She wanted to get closer, to read what the old man was reading. Ever since they’d found what was left of her books… She was so intent on the writing covered paper the old man had that she didn’t notice her uncle turn his head to her.

“Well, G’mornin’ sweetie!” Uncle Pete exclaimed, smiling hugely. “Sleep okay?”

Song, unable to talk now that the old man and old woman were looking at her too, nodded slowly.

“It’s okay, Song. This is my Grams.” He patted the old woman gently on the shoulder, then nodded to the old man, “And that’s my Grandpa. They’re pretty awesome and really nice.”

The woman beamed at Song, “Good morning, Song. It’s very nice to finally meet you. Your Uncle Pete has been telling us what a very smart little girl you are. I'm very sorry Buttons chased you last night.”

Song just stared at her.

Uncle Pete chuckled, looking a little amused as he walked to Song and knelt in front of her. He offered his hand and she went to him, allowing him to place her on his shoulder like he’d done the night before.

He stood slowly so she wouldn’t lose her balance. “There. Better now that you’re a lot taller?” he asked in a conspiratorial... yes, conspiratorial is the word... whisper, giving her a little wink.

“Uh huh,” she whispered back. Her stomach rumbled.

He chuckled again, “Hungry?”

“Yes, Uncle Pete.”

“Grams has got some pancakes ready. Let’s make you a plate,” Uncle Pete responded, turning back to… I guess I’m supposed to call her Grams?

The old woman… Grams, at least to me her name is Grams, Dada might have to call her something different… already had a plate ready and she used a spatula to slide one of the so-called pancakes onto it from a larger plate stacked full of pancakes.

Song’s eyes got huge. The pancake was almost as big as she was!

“Uncle Pete, that’s enough for me and Dada to share,” she chirped at full volume. “It’s huge!”

Uncle Pete and his grandparents laughed. The sound surprised Song and she plastered herself against the side of her uncle’s face.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay. Where’s your dad, is he still asleep?”

She nodded against the side of his face.

“Well, why don’t we go wake him up then?”

“Uncle Pete we can’t right now, Dada’s tired," Song whispered. "He was up all night the night before last because he had to fly us here. And he didn’t sleep much the two or three nights before that because he was trying to make sure everyone was okay and safe. We've got to let him sleep.”

“Too late for that,” Rocket’s irritated voice grumbled from the doorway behind them.

Song turned on Uncle Pete’s shoulder to see Dada behind them, fur plastered weirdly on one side of his face. He was panting like he’d run down the stairs and his face looked panicked.

“Dada? What’s wrong?”

Her uncle didn’t say anything as he crouched to hand Song over to her Dada. Dada hugged her tightly, his breathing slowing down to normal.

“Dada? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Woke up and you were gone, kiddo. Do your dad a favor and wake me up next time, ‘kay? Nearly gave me a frickin’ heart attack.”

Chapter Text

One week later…

Rocket walked into Pete’s room with a sleeping Song in his arms. He stopped in the middle of the room, ears back as he debated with himself. He could lay her down on the low guest bed they’d been sleeping in the past week and go back downstairs with Pete and his grandparents or he could just curl up here with his daughter until her nap was over. The second option was very tempting and the only thing getting in the way was that Pete would immediately think something was up if Rocket didn’t show back up after a few minutes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Pete’s grandparents, as far as humies went they weren’t too bad from what he’d seen over the past week. It was just that Rocket wasn’t used to this level of… niceness and it was bugging him. Mr. Quill’s… Jason, as the old man kept insisting… type of sarcasm was just… too nice. Back on Knowhere, even before Pete had left, there had always been a fair amount of stinging smartassery in every interaction between the old Guardians. The lack of burning sarcastical remarks in the Quill household put him on edge for no frickin’ reason. Sure the Quills had their own type of sarcasm, but it was all layered with a hint of… sweetness that was throwing Rocket off balance. Pete himself seemed to be measuring his words at least a little more carefully when he spoke, especially around Mrs. Quill… or Ginny as Rocket was apparently supposed to call her.

Rocket yawned, too tired to think about it much more. One week of absolutely no frickin’ news on where the High Evolutionary could be. Add to that, Pete kept refusing to offer up any ideas of other places that Rocket and Song could hide. All the stress was getting to him and he kept finding himself waking up several times every night, frantic and panting from nightmares that were getting worse every time.

Rocket yawned again, then shook his head. To hell with Pete and his overprotectiveness, he needed to sleep. Adjusting Song so he could hold her with one arm, he climbed up onto the bed, laid her down, and curled around her. He closed his eyes and did his best to relax but sleep didn’t come. He groaned in irritation. Song shifted beside him and he froze. She mumbled something inaudible and stretched but stayed asleep.

He huffed. I might as well call Nebula, see if she’s found anything. He was out of bed and rummaging in his rucksack for his communicator before he finally realized what time it was on Knowhere. Nebula would more than likely be asleep. And, given that he’d only spoken to her just a few hours earlier… she wouldn’t know anything more now than when he’d talked to her.

He shook his head again and that’s when he spotted it, tucked away under Pete’s bed. He wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for the strap sticking out from under the bedskirt. Pete had always been rotten at hiding things anyway.

Rocket pulled his communicator out of the rucksack, along with a few wires he’d stored in a side pocket. Then, before he had time to talk himself out of it, he walked the few steps to Pete’s side of the room and grabbed the strap, pulling the smaller bag out from under the bed. He hesitated, ears flicking back and forth.

Aw, what the hell. He’d deal with Nebula later. He was used to her moods anyway, and, besides, he was getting pretty tired of her, and of Pete, trying to… coddle him. He knew what was in those files. He’d lived through it, everything in those files was done to him. He could handle it. And he didn’t need anyone else to see anymore than they’d already had.

Besides, they’d waited too long to find the code for Song’s kill switch, albeit not intentionally. The second night after they’d arrived, Rocket had insisted they find the code as soon as possible. Pete had refused, reminding Rocket of what Song had said that morning when Rocket had walked up behind them in the kitchen after nearly losing his mind with freakin’ worry. Rocket hadn’t slept enough and exhaustion caused mistakes to happen.

Technically, Pete had been right. Rocket had been way too tired that first day to do more than sit quietly as Song, who’d found her bravery once Rocket was where she could see him, had chattered non-stop with all three of the Quills. She’d ended the morning after breakfast by standing on old man Quill’s knee and surprising the hell out of the old man and his wife by effortlessly providing every single, correct, answer to the crossword puzzle questions that didn’t involve some celebrity in what Pete had called ‘the newspaper’. Rocket had tried to hide his snickers at their astonishment but, given how hard Song had rolled her eyes at him, he had not succeeded. Every morning since then, the crossword puzzle had become Song’s, and her newfound Grandpa’s, routine while Rocket had harassed the man about improving the security of the frickin’ glass door.

At night, Rocket still checked his daughter’s jumpsuit pockets before bed, just in case. He still hadn’t forgotten what Kraglin had said on the Bowie, about the reason why Song had kept stealing those first few weeks.

She woke up several times a night from nightmares too.

Rocket shook himself, irritated that he was letting himself get distracted. He looked to Pete’s memorabilia-cluttered desk in the corner, made for humies and much too big for him. With a sigh, he settled cross-legged on the floor by his and Song’s bed, leaning against the side. He laid his file, the Recorder’s headgear, his communicator, and the wires out in front of him and with quick and decisive movements he pieced all four components together.

Once finished, he checked his work even though he knew he was just stalling for time. Yeah, he knew he could handle anything he saw in those files, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to.

Song’s safety is more important than my comfort. I’ve gotta find the code and I need to find it now.

He switched on the projector for the communicator and swiped at the screen that appeared, then decided to scroll through the Recorder’s headgear first. The program was something he’d improved during the short amount of time he’d spent with Stark. Interactive holograms, basically, even though the man had called them something else that he’d thought was clever. Rocket had laughed and had called the man a primitive idiot.

Anyway, Pete had told Rocket that his code had been in the headgear, not the file, so the headgear’s informationalistic memory banks were the logical choice.

He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of where to start. Maybe anything do with Batch 89? He made the selection for what he thought was the right file.

He was not prepared for what popped up in the air in front of his face.

Lylla… Teefs… Floor…

He couldn’t breathe.

Projected in the air in front of him were holographic renderings of Batch 89, including himself when he’d been not much older than Song. Before He had murdered his family and Rocket had left his mark on Him. The images were surrounded by notes of how they hadn’t been… good enough. The notes were all about what improvements might have worked better as Batch 89 hadn’t been perfect.

Cobbled together by fat-fingered children.

His ears, which had been having a mind of their own lately, flattened to his skull and his tail bristled.

He shook and forced himself to take in a lungful of air into his aching chest. Another breath. And then another several deep breaths for good measure until he could breathe again without having to think about it.

Without Nebula’s ability to integrate into computer memory systems, this was gonna take longer than he’d thought.

He reached out with a trembling hand to Lylla’s image, imagining holding her again. Tears streaked down his face. Fingers still trembling, he reached out to Teef’s and Floor’s images as well. He closed his eyes. Another image of Lylla appeared behind his eyelids, this one a memory of her comforting him in that afterlife with Teefs and Floor waving at him from behind her. He held onto that image, tucked it into his heart, then opened his eyes and swiped at the hologram again.

Species 89P13. Species, not Subject.

Becoming increasingly heartbroken, Rocket swiped through image after image of very young cybernetically enhanced raccoons, all seemingly modified in ways similar to his own ‘enhancements’. Every image had notes all around them of these subjects’, these poor little kids’, inadequacies. Also, there were notes that indicated the High Evolutionary had used more and more gene… therapy than He did cybernetics with each kid. There’s thirteen here. Which means number fourteen has gotta be Sister.

The next image, even though he thought he might see it, he still wasn’t prepared for. It was Song, yes, but it also included another little raccoon the same size, but white. Sister wasn’t at all what Rocket had expected, she was the same exact color as Floor. Her nose was pink, as he'd imagined Floor's must have been. Even her eyes were the same shades of pink and red.

How is that possible? Floor was a rabbit, not a raccoon.

There were all kinds of notes for this image, more than there had been for the other thirteen. Notes of the multiple surgeries to restructure both Song and her Sister and the so-called gene therapy that had been used to make the changes permanent, to increase the durability of their bodies, and to increase their intelligence. Rocket was shocked to realize that the only cybernetics Song had was the kill switch itself.

Shocked and relieved. He’d been so worried for so long that Song would need more surgeries in the future as she outgrew her cybernetics, but now that he knew that wasn’t necessary…

He leaned his head back, letting it smack into the side of the mattress in his relief.

Only to jump upright when the door opening nearly scared the shit out of him.

Pete looked around the room briefly before his eyes locked onto the sight of Rocket sitting on the floor with the files. He gave Rocket an irritated glare, “Seriously? C’mon man.”

Rocket glared back, “What did ya frickin’ expect, Star Munch? When have I ever done what you guys wanted me to?”

Pete rolled his eyes, “I s’pose you have a point. Scoot.”

“Huh?”

“Scoot over,” Pete reiterated as he walked into the room.

Rocket kept glaring but did as the half-Terran asked.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean for us to wait this long to do this,” Pete apologized as he settled beside Rocket, pausing when he caught a closer look at Rocket’s face. Too late, Rocket realized he hadn’t wiped the tears away. Pete, bless him, just patted Rocket on the shoulder before he looked behind them to where Song still slept on top of the bed.

“She still asleep?” Rocket croaked.

“Completely out of it. Man, Groot took naps but he didn’t sleep this much.”

“Groot still doesn’t sleep much now. I’m assuming it’s a mammalistical thing.”

Pete looked forward, taking the time now to study the image in front of them. “Huh. I never woulda guessed that Song’s sister was an albino.”

“Albino?”

“It’s a genetic mutation on Terra,” Pete explained. “Causes the skin to be pink or white, hair to be white, and the eyes to be red,” he listed off in a matter-of-fact way that was completely unlike him. Almost like he was quoting some kind of textbook. “It is kinda weird seeing a raccoon without a mask.”

“You’re normally not this smart,” Rocket deadpanned.

Pete looked offended, “Hey, I know things.”

“Not many.”

“You done bein’ an asshole?”

“Eh,” Rocket shrugged, feeling a little better than he had only a moment before. He’d thought that he didn’t want anyone else seeing these files but, oddly enough, he’d felt better the moment his best friend had stepped into the room.

Not that he was gonna tell Pete that. The man was already insufferable enough.

Pete was ignoring him now, reading His notes, his face getting angrier the further and further he got. Rocket could see why. He wasn’t liking what he was reading either.

“Why, that sick bastard… You seeing this, Rocket?”

“Yeah,” Rocket responded quietly. The notes talked about 89P13-15’s, Song’s, beyond astronomicalistic comprehensive abilities and about how 89P13-14, Sister, was just as intelligent as 89P13, Rocket, was. How Song’s abilities weren’t worth His time, but that He believed that Sister showed the same promise as Rocket had. The notes outlined His plans for possible further experimentation on Sister and also described, in heartbreaking detail, the things He had done to them both, particularly to Song, to give Sister motivation… it made his blood boil. Rocket saw red when he looked at the paragraph that described the fact that Song’s only purpose in existing was to motivate her littermate.

Pete cleared his throat after a moment, sounding just as pissed off as Rocket felt, “We’ll deal with him. Later, I promise. Right now we gotta find the code.”

Still seeing red, Rocket nodded even though all he wanted to do in that moment was wake Song up and hold her as tightly as he could and never let her go. Not quite able to completely stop himself and having to at least see Song, Rocket stood and turned to look at his daughter as she slept. Once he was certain she was okay and still sleeping peacefully, he turned and nodded again at Pete as he sat back down. His tail flicked irritably to the side.

This time Pete reached forward and swiped at the screen. “The menu’s gotta be around here somewhere…” he muttered to himself. A few more swipes and the half-Terran man seemed to have found what he was looking for.

He swiped again and there it was, clearly labeled and so easy to find that Rocket’s eyes widened. Everything in him screamed it was too easy. “Pete, what if-“

Pete met his eyes with a comforting look, obviously having thought the same thing, “Look buddy, I know what you’re thinking. But think about this. He didn’t think we’d beat him. He thought he was gonna take you from us. He didn’t think he was gonna lose, so why would he booby-trap his files? What would be the point if he thought he was gonna win anyway?”

Rocket looked at the wall, “I… I still don’t like this, Pete.”

“You’ve said it yourself, man. Song’s gotta have a life but she can’t with a fucking ticking time bomb in her goddamn chest.”

“Those are very bad, bad words, Uncle Pete,” Song spoke up, her little voice sounding groggy with sleep. “It’s not nice to say them.”

Rocket turned at the waist and reached up for her and she slid off the bed and onto his lap. He wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly as he looked back and forth between Pete and the several lines of code that shimmered in front of them, only a small part of the million-word key that could potentially shut off Song’s kill switch.

Or activate it.

He didn’t miss Song’s eyes scanning the projection in front of her, much more quickly than he and Pete would ever have been capable of. She looked up at him, her little dark brown eyes wide, “Dada, is that-?”

Pete nodded, “Yep. We were just about to use it, sweetie.”

“That’s good, right?”

Pete nodded.

Song looked up and met Rocket’s gaze, “Dada? If this is good, then why are you holding me like you did on Knowhere when I woke up in the Bowie’s cockpit and your fur was white?”

Rocket didn’t want to scare her, but it wasn’t right to keep something like this from her. He cleared his throat, “Because it could also be a trap, baby girl.”

“Sire never put traps in his files, Dada. I should know, I read a lot of his files a lot of the times that he was busy working with Sister. It got me into trouble sometimes when Sire finally noticed,” she trailed off sadly. He could only imagine what she meant by trouble. Then she turned in his arms to stretch up and bump her nose against his. “It’s okay, Dada,” she stated firmly.

And then, before he could register what she was doing, she wriggled forward in his arms and swiped at a section of the screen. The section of screen that commenced the download of the code that might shut off her kill switch.

Or, in Rocket’s mind, might set it off.

“Song! What-!? Baby girl-“

Song just nestled against his chest and watched the lines of code filter through the air in front of them. After only a moment, what felt like an eternity to Rocket, the download was done.

Rocket, frozen in place, held his breath and watched his daughter in his arms. She yawned and rubbed her little eyes as she nuzzled into his chest.

Pete started laughing. If you could call relieved, half-choked cackling laughter.

Rocket, for the first time ever in his life, felt like he was gonna faint. Pete’s arm wrapped around his shoulders but he didn’t even register it. He just held his daughter closer, “Don’t you ever do somethin’ like that again, Song Raccoon. I mean it.” He’d meant to sound firm, but his voice was almost breathless with panic.

“But Dada, it worked. My fail safe is de… deactivated. Just like you promised.” She pointed to the screen still shimmering in the air in front of them, “See?” She gave him the sweetest little smile, “Everything’s going to be okay, Dada.”

This wasn’t the end of their problems, not by a long shot, but Rocket made himself calm down. He nuzzled his face against hers. She’s gonna be okay. She’s actually gonna be frickin’ okay.

Chapter Text

A few days later…

Rocket was at a complete loss as to what he should do. He didn’t know if he should talk to Quill’s grandparents directly, which he wasn’t sure he could do without being an asshole, or if he should mention something to Pete and see if the half-Terran could handle it.

Either way, he was getting pretty tired of Pete’s grandmother giving Song cookies right after she’d heard him tell Song she had to wait until after dinner. Song was starting to expect the treats and was getting to the point to where half the time she wouldn’t touch her actual food without one of those frickin’ sugar cookies.

Ginny had tried to give her a chocolate chip one the very first time she’d undermined him, but Rocket had been so… flabbergasted that she’d even done that that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from snapping at her that chocolate would make Song sick. Heck, it made Rocket sick to his stomach. After that, Rocket thought that wouldn’t happen again, but no… Here Ginny was, handing Song another one of the blasted sugar cookies. It had only gotten worse after Pete’s grandparents had learned about the failsafe. From Song, of course.

He reminded himself whose house he was in, bit his tongue, and walked out of the kitchen, tail swishing and ears nearly pinned back.

“You alright there, Son?”

Rocket’s ear flicked when Jason spoke, but he didn’t answer.

“Rocket?”

“Hm?” Rocket jerked to a stop and looked at the old man. Part of him registered the fact that Pete’s grandpa had called him Son. That was something the old man called Pete, not Rocket. “Sorry, I thought you were talkin’ to Pete.” A little too late, he realized that his best friend wasn’t even in the room. With a sigh, he climbed onto the couch opposite Jason and plopped down with an irritated look on his face.

“You know, you can tell Ginny to stop.”

He tilted his head, ears still turned back, “Excuse me?”

“I know you’ve kept yourself from saying something, aside from the whole chocolate thing, and I understand why. But just because this is our house, and we invited you and your little girl to stay here, doesn’t mean you can’t speak up.”

“If that was the case, why haven’t you said somethin’?

Jason chuckled a little, eyes darting to the kitchen doorway briefly. If anything, Rocket coulda sworn the old man was nervous. “I’ve been meaning to, but this is the first time Ginny’s been distracted enough for me to do it.”

“Huh?” That did not make any sense. None at all.

“Ginny will respect what you say, you are Song’s father. She won’t be happy about it, but she’ll respect it.”

“And she won’t respect you?” Rocket stated, carefully.

Jason rolled his eyes, “Nothing like that. Just the whole ‘Happy Wife, Happy Life’, thing.”

Rocket stared at him. The more time he spent around the old man, the more he could see where Pete’s crazy came from. Especially in situations like right now.

Jason shook his head with an amused smirk, “You’ll find out, someday, when you meet that special someone.”

Rocket snorted. “Uh huh, like any girl in her right mind is gonna go for this,” he stated blandly, gesturing to himself.

Jason shrugged, “Pete fell in love with a green space girl, had a one-night stand with a pink one before that.” He scrunched his nose, “Then, before that, there was something about a girl who had… tentacles.”

Rocket couldn’t help himself, he lost it, laughing so hard he had to wipe a tear or two away, “He told you about that? Man, I knew Pete had no shame, but… frick.”

“What does that even mean, frick? Not something horrible, I hope.”

“Nah, when Groot, my oldest, was little, he picked up a lot of words he shouldn’t. Mainly from Pete, sometimes from the people we took jobs from. I started sayin’ that more than I used to hopin’ he would copy me instead. Didn’t frickin’ work,” Rocket chuckled, “kinda backfired on me. I’m the only one who says it now, aside from Pete sometimes.”

Jason smiled sadly, “Funny how that often works out, huh? I had a similar issue with Meredith when she was little.”

Rocket’s face fell, “I didn’t mean to dredge things up-“

Jason held up a hand, closing the book he’d been holding in his lap with the other and setting it on the side table, “No need to apologize. Having Pete back makes those memories less painful. More… bittersweet, I suppose?” The old man looked thoughtful, “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

Rocket straightened, ears swiveling and tail swishing in surprise, “Me?”

“Pete’s one-night stands weren’t the only things he told me about. He told me what happened on Xandar, with Ego, and what you did during the Blip.” The old man didn’t mention Him, thank goodness. At least Pete could be trusted to be discrete about that.

Rocket, now completely uncomfortable, shrank back into the cushion behind him and looked away from Jason’s earnest expression, “I only did what I had to do.”

“But you didn’t have to do any of that. You chose to. I’m glad Pete found you and people like you out there. Makes me feel less… guilty.”

“Guilty? Why would you… Pete was stolen from you.”

“I shouldn’t have taken him out of that room. When his mother died, I shouldn’t have taken him out of her hospital room. And I shouldn’t have left him all alone in that hallway…”

Rocket was extremely uncomfortable now, and there was no way he could get out of there without being a jerk. He sighed, rubbing his brow with one hand, “Jason, you lost your daughter. I can only imagine what that would feel like. Actually… I know exactly what that feels like. I thought Song had died when Knowhere was attacked and I just…” he shook his head, unable to finish. “Anyway, there wasn’t nothin’ you coulda done to keep Pete from being kidnapped. Ego was gonna get his hands on him, one way or another. You probably would have just ended up gettin’ yourself killed.”

“I know, Pete’s said much the same thing quite a few times. Still doesn’t make me feel better.” Jason sighed, “Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t be.”

Rocket shook his head, “It’s not like it was completely one-sided. If it hadn’t been for Pete and Groot’s dad, and the others, I probably woulda died a long time ago.”

“Well, I’m glad that didn’t happen, Son.”

Song stomped her foot, “It’s not fair.”

“I don’t care about bein’ fair, kiddo. You’re not eatin' a cookie before your dinner,” Dada responded as he folded his arms and fixed her with a warning look.

Grams opened her mouth to say something, but Grandpa spoke up from the table. “Listen to your father, Song,” he admonished blandly, not even looking up from the book in his hand.

Grams shot Grandpa a glare and Uncle Pete looked completely discombobulated, but Song barely paid them any mind. She wanted that cookie and for the first time since the chocolate incident, Dada was telling her No and was sticking to it!

“You’re mean!”

Now she’d done it, Dada did not look happy. Not at all. “You know what, Song Raccoon, keep talkin’ to me like that and you definitely won’t be gettin’ a cookie at all tonight.”

Song’s little eyes widened. No cookie at all? “But Dada-“

“No buts. Start behavin’ like you have some sense.”

Song didn’t understand it. Dinner was still half an hour away and she was hungry now. “But Dada, I’m starving,” she pleaded.

Dada bit his lip, almost like he was trying not to laugh. Uncle Pete chuckled from the other side of the kitchen and Dada glared at him, then turned his gaze back to Song, “Then you should have no problem eatin’ your dinner.”

“Damn it.”

Uncle Pete lost it, laughing so hard that it looked like he’d forgotten to breathe. Grams and Grandpa both tried to shush him but were completely unsuccessful.

“Excuse me?” Dada’s ears flattened to his skull, “Okay.” He looked away, working his jaw as his fingers clenched on his arms. He sighed irritably, mumbling, “Ronan and Taserface were easier than this.”

Song pinned her ears back as her tail tucked itself between her legs. She didn’t understand what Dada was saying but she did understand that he was mad.

Her voice turned scared and small as she wrung her little hands in front of her, “You promised you wouldn’t get mad at me.”

Dada sighed, looking briefly at their audience. He rubbed his face with one hand, the other still clenched across his chest as his own tail bristled, “I’m not mad, I’m irritated. You know better than to talk like that.”

She looked down at the floor. Having Dada irritated with her was almost as bad as having him mad at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, I’m sorry,” Grams spoke up from in front of the heating element, stove as she’d told Song. She sighed, “I didn’t realize giving her treats would cause such a big issue.” That did not sound like an apology to Song.

“Ginny,” Grandpa said with a warning note in his voice.

Dada rolled his eyes, “I don’t mind you givin’ my kid treats, Ginny. I’d just prefer that you wait until after meals instead of before. I understand that this is your house, but that doesn’t change the fact that Song is my daughter.”

“Fine. I don’t like it,” Grams said stiffly. “But fine.”

“Look I don’t want to say this but if this is gonna cause an issue then Song and I can just stay at the M-ship until it’s safe to go back home.”

“No!” Song squeaked, giving her Dada a horrified look. She rushed to him and reached up to tug on his belt loop as she begged, “No! Please Dada, no.”

Dada placed a hand on top of her head without looking at her, fixing Grams with a variation of the look that he usually used on Song.

Grandpa smirked, then quickly picked up his book to hide his expression behind it.

“Look everyone, just calm down. It’s not the end of the world, it’s just a cookie.”

Both Dada and Grams glared at Uncle Pete. His eyes widened and he held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, “Yeesh.”

Both of them turned their gazes back to each other, ignoring Uncle Pete. Dada was the first to give, shaking his head, “Look, I’m not tellin’ you that you can’t spoil her. I’m just askin’ that you respect me when I set boundaries for her. Okay? I’ve been nothin’ but respectful of you since I set foot in this house. I’m only askin’ for the same in return.”

Grams sighed again, her expression softening, “Alright, fine.”

“Yay, everyone’s happy,” Uncle Pete said in a very nervous voice, waving his hands awkwardly in front of him. The rest of the adults, Dada included, just gave him withering looks.

Dada rolled his eyes as he scooped Song up and went to sit with her at the table. Grams and Uncle Pete started quietly plating dinner.

Grandpa, as soon as Grams’ back was turned, put down his book and gave Dada a smirk and a thumbs up gesture.

Song was very confused.

It was late night and Song wanted that cookie. After she’d said that bad word, which she’d thought she’d never do, Dada had made it very clear that she wouldn’t get one. We’ll try again tomorrow, kiddo, he’d said.

I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.

Dada turned over in his sleep with his back now to her and Song slid of out bed, tiptoed past Uncle Pete’s bed, and came to a stop in front of the closed bedroom door. She folded her arms irritably and huffed, then winced when she realized how loud that was. She spun around and watched with pinned ears but Dada and Uncle Pete didn’t so much as flinch. She sighed quietly in relief, then turned her attention to the problem that was the closed bedroom door.

If she pushed Uncle Pete’s desk chair over from across the room, she could climb it to get high enough to reach the doorknob. But that would make too much noise and wake up both Dada and Uncle Pete.

She looked down at the floor, thinking, and that’s when she finally noticed the soft light shining into the room from under the door. Grams always turned the hallway night-light on before going to bed, just in case one of them woke up in the middle of the night. It had been a long time since Song had needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night, but Grams still insisted.

Song looked thoughtfully at the space between the door and the carpet. Maybe… She lowered herself to all fours and crawled forward, sticking her snout under the door experimentally. Slowly, she moved forward. I don’t want to get stuck. Little by little, she squirmed under the door and once her head and shoulders were through, the rest was easy. She stood and straightened her pajamas as she looked over her shoulder at the door, now behind her, with a satisfied snort.

She tiptoed down the hallway towards the awful stairs and then backed down each one just as she had the first morning after they’d arrived at the Quill’s house.

Once down the stairs she gave the hateful things a mean little growl, then proceeded through the living room and into the kitchen.

Rocket woke with a jerk to what sounded like a dish being moved across a counter. He yawned, then looked at Pete. The man was still out, his humie ears not strong enough to pick up whatever that noise had been. He yawned again, laid his head down and reached for Song to pull her closer.

His eyes shot open when his hand hit empty bed.

“Song?”

Pete snored, turning over in his sleep.

Half-panicked, Rocket’s eyes roamed wildly around the room. She was nowhere in sight. Sliding out of bed, Rocket lifted the bedskirt and checked under his bed, then rushed to Pete’s bed to do the same thing. Nothing.

He sniffed. Song’s scent was still in the room, but not strong enough to indicate that she was still physically there. He sniffed again, walking to the door where here scent was the strongest. The door was definitely closed, but her scent seemed to lead past it.

How did she…? He shook his head and opened the door. As soon as he was through, he heard the sound again and much clearer than before. It sounded like one of Ginny’s cookie jar lids. Great.

Rolling his eyes, he headed down the stairs and marched through the living room and into the kitchen. He had to stop and compose himself when he finally laid eyes on Song. Well, on Song’s little tail and flowered-pajama-covered butt and legs, which were hanging over the edge of the jar for the sugar cookies.

He cleared his throat loudly and had to fight back a laugh when she fell the rest of the way into the cookie jar. Slowly, her little ears poked over the top, followed by her little hands and then her little head. He bit his tongue and tried to school his features into a glare. He felt like he was only halfway successful, but he must have done better than he’d thought ‘cause Song’s little eyes were wide.

“Busted, kiddo. How long have you been down here?”

Her ears flattened and she looked away from him. Longer than I’d like, then. “Get out of the cookie jar, Song,” he said flatly.

She didn’t answer but there was the sound of the little claws on her feet scraping against the inside of the jar. She huffed, not catching any momentum. “Dada,” she squeaked, panicking, “I can’t get out! I’m stuck!”

He snorted, fighting back laughter. Then he took a step back to jump and land on the counter on all fours. He straightened, then reached inside the jar to grasp Song under her arms and lift her out, setting her down in front of him.

He folded his arms in front of him and gave her the look as he tapped his foot. She pinned her ears back and clenched her arms across her stomach, much in the same way she’d had that first night she’d fallen out of the air duct, scared and starving.

“My tummy hurts.”

“That tends to happen when you eat too many sweets, kiddo.”

She sniffled and he sighed, sitting on the edge of the counter and letting his legs swing. “C’mere,” he motioned to the spot beside him. “If your stomach hurts, why did you keep eating?”

“Because they’re yummy.”

He rubbed his eyes as he groaned, “You’re lucky you didn’t make yourself sick, kiddo.”

She didn’t answer, just whimpered beside him.

“Baby girl, I’m not mad.”

“My tummy hurts worse,” she answered, sounding on the verge of tears.

He went to answer, then paused to look at her. Really look at her. She looked miserable, almost like she was in pain.

Sugar cookies shouldn’t have affected her that much. It wasn’t the first time she’d eaten too many sweets like those. Then he looked over her head to the jar he’d just pulled her out of, confused when he saw that it was indeed the one for the sugar cookies… Song whimpered again and that’s when he saw it. The lid to the chocolate chip cookie jar beside it was also lying on the counter.

Song puked.

“PETE!” Rocket bellowed, horrified. No, terrified.

Oh my frickin' god, how many did she eat?! “PETE, MEDPACK! NOW!”

Song puked several more times in the way too long moments that it took the half-Terran to stomp down the stairs. Rocket’s pant leg was covered but he couldn’t think about that, he just held her close to his side as she struggled to breathe. She couldn’t stop puking long enough to get any air and Rocket felt himself on the verge of losing himself to panic. That’s when Pete, hair all in disarray, med-pack in one hand, blaster in the other, finally skidded into the kitchen, paused, then tossed the med-pack to Rocket who almost missed it in his panic. His shaking hands struggled to open the thing and Pete snatched it back, ripping the bag open and then wrapping the medpack completely around Song’s little body, getting chocolate colored vomit all over his hands as she retched again.

The medpack activated and Song whimpered again as Rocket held his breath.

“What happened?” Pete asked, sounding as breathless as Rocket felt.

“She ate too much chocolate,” Rocket answered, wincing at the stunned panic in his wobbling voice. Song puked once more, but it was mostly bile colored with one last bit of chocolate mixed in.

Both Pete and Rocket held still as they watched her carefully.

“Seriously?” Pete croaked after several minutes.

Song whimpered beside Rocket and he pulled her onto his lap, smearing vomit everywhere and not giving a damn.

“I’m n-never eating an-another c-cookie ever a-again,” Song whimpered in his hold, still wrapped in the medpack.

Rocket gave a hysterical, panicked chuckle, “At least not any with chocolate in ‘em.”

“Not to ruin the moment,” Pete spoke up with a shaky voice, “but you guys really need a bath.”

"What's going on? Is she okay?" came Ginny's voice from the doorway. Both her and Jason were standing there in their nightclothes, worry on their faces.

Rocket sighed shakily, "She's fine. We're fine."

"I don't think I like cookies anymore, Grams," Song chirped, finally sounding like she'd got her breath back.

Chapter Text

Next chapter will be up by the first Sunday in April.
Until then:
Happy Saint Patrick's Day 🍀 and Happy Easter 🐇🐣!
And thank you all for being such wonderful readers!