Chapter Text
A serpentine motion, slithering up his back. He feels it, that rough texture. Not quite like skin, dense on the inside, soft on the outside, scratchy. It's Groot's vines, has to be.
They slither over his implants, he feels the metal pressed into his body ever so slightly harder. He feels the vines moving over the bare, scarred skin, and he internally shudders. Something is wrong.
He can smell something. What is that?
The vines slither along the side of his neck, and he shudders from the touch, it makes him nervous. Groot knows that, why would he do that.
He feels them moving over his chest, pressing the fur down, making an X Shape.
They wrap over themselves, again and again, the pressure increasing each time. What is going on?
He can hear something, too…
Voices, calling for him, shouting his name.
Who are they, why are they shouting…
He feels Groot's vine slither around his waist, hunting for the bone, to secure him properly. He feels it snake around him, and he realizes what this is.
A harness.
He's too weak to open his eyes. He's trying so hard, but his lungs feel shallow. His heart feels like it isn't working.
They're shouting for him as they die.
Hundreds of voices all screaming for him to save them. The power stone… The Nova…
He can't—what does he do??
The others were gone. They weren't responding. The plan failed, Ronan wasn't dead. He had to do SOMETHING.
He feels the vines snake along his spine, then apply pressure, forcibly lifting him up.
He starts to hyperventilate, smoke filling his nostrils. He feels himself crashing the Milano into Ronan, feels it breaking around him.
He remembers feeling all the radio waves in the air snuffing out, one by one. The signals, the screams.
He remembers they all died. Because the plan failed, because he didn't do enough.
The vines snake under his arms, hooking through the pits, then coiling around his biceps. They kept going, he could feel them snaking down his arms, around his wrists, and then firmly held them straight.
He feels panic fill his body. Ronan lived.
He tried to fix the enforcer, the others were there, weren't they?
He feels shockwaves blasting him, sending him careening into the ground.
Stone scrapes open old wounds.
He feels vines snake their ways around his thighs, and then around the mid joints, before arriving to his ankles.
Those, too, are held out straight, against his will.
He feels his body being ripped apart by the raw, primal, destructive force of the universe itself. Feels it fight against his will.
He feels a vine start to snake around his neck, squeezing softly. His breath hitches.
He gasps out a breath, and in, and out. It hurts, it burns.
He finally starts to open his eyes.
He sees golden light flooding his vision. He sees the light of the nova fading, fizzling away in a wave of purple, leaving little golden orbs in it's wake.
He feels new vines snake their way around his ankles, wrists, biceps, thighs…
They come in from an exterior grip.
He tries to focus, sees smoke, sees embers.
He sees Groot's gentle smile, and feels a vine against his cheek, snaking it's way up to his eye.
It wipes away one of the millions of tears streaming down his face.
He tries to speak, and a vine quickly coils around his snout, harshly shutting it, hard enough his teeth painfully clack together.
He whimpers, and Groot's smile doesn't falter.
He feels the vines start to tighten. His lungs being crushed, his hip starting to crack. His windpipe getting harder to use.
He feels thorns start to grow through him, feels the newer vines starting to pull, while the old ones hold.
He looks into Groot's eyes, and sees pure heartbreak.
Groot starts to smolder, decay.
Rocket realizes what he's smelling.
Burning wood.
Rocket wakes up, standing on all fours quickly. Surprised he even can.
He throws up. The taste of burning wood, ash, and soot doesn't leave him.
He feels the vines still.
He cries in pure agony.
He shouts out, no real words, just sounds.
He can't get it out.
He can hear him dying.
Millions of vines splintering and cracking as the ship crashed into the world below. Wood creaking and groaning as it tries to hold together, before giving in.
He can smell him.
The lingering smell of burnt wood right after the crash, and then the body parts he had managed to find all ablaze. His own burning flesh unimportant as he tries to save Groot.
He can taste him.
Smoke so thick it stained it's way into his nostrils, onto his tongue. Violating, horrible. Vile. It made him want to rip his face off.
He can feel him.
He can still feel those d'ast VINES, wrapping around him, SAVING him. Spread thin as Groot tries to save ALL OF THEM. Everyone but himself. They still snake around him. He will never forget the feeling.
He can still see him.
Every time he opens his eyes, Groot's smile haunts his memory. It was as if it was burned into his retinas. That gentle smile that only said one thing.
Goodbye.
Rocket left him. He left him.
He went and got cleaned up, and Groot was still OUT THERE. It couldn't have all burned there had to be SOMETHING ELSE.
He tries to stand up, and slips on his own blood. He didn't even realize he had ripped his wounds open again.
He barely registers the pain from his head hitting the floor. Simply standing back up, and limping out of the bathroom.
He walks out, past the sleeping grey lump.
He sees the city outside the window, nighttime veiling most of it. He walks onto the balcony.
He looks below, at the area where there aren't any lights. Just fires being put out.
Groot was down there.
Rocket wanted to go to him.
He lets himself fall forward, hardly even aware he had climbed onto the railing.
And then he feels a forcefield. Yellow light filling his vision.
They had a forcefield around the balconies. Of course.
Rocket somberly curses the Nova Corps.
He looks below, down to Groot.
He lets his blood pool on himself. He doesn't care. The only thing he cared about was dead. He had killed it.
He closes his eyes again.