Rest - Guardians of the Galaxy 3 fanfiction - Peter Quill x Rocket Raccoon

Reminiscence

Rockets fingers diligently worked on rewiring a previously used circuit board to what was going to end up being a plasma-charged gun of his own design. Inventing a concept, gathering equipment, building whatever he was imagining... it was calming, easy and logical. He never had to worry about his creations not working and could barely understand why others weren't able to recreate his apparent talent.

To him, it was simply muscle memory and and calmly thinking about what he wanted to achieve, the desired result just always seemed to take shape after a short while of being handled in his paws.

Working was straightforward and awarded him with a brief period of clarity to contemplate things that had transpired and if he was honest with himself, his entire life had been turned upside down by one lucky shot to his chest by Goldilocks. Rocket rubbed at the still mostly bare skin absentmindedly. If he had just been more attentive, Adam wouldn't have shot him which would have resulted in them besting him much earlier.

He wouldn't have fallen into a coma and his origin would still be a well kept secret. Sure, they never truly bested the young Sovereign and rather just took him in after he had been caught in Quills self-destructing craft but that was beside the point.

Rocket still didn't know much about what had happened while he was unconscious which he was both happy about but also loathed at the same time. On one hand, it would have been embarrassing as flark if he had been awake and aware. He hated it when others saw him in such a vulnerable state. He was anything but weak and could very well take care of himself, thank you very much!

On the other hand, having been in some sort of coma during that whole ordeal did indeed also look unbelievably appealing, looking back. It saved him from feeling the pain, probably a huge amount of panic attacks from just being the subject in any kind of medical setting no matter who was looking down at him while he was lying on that metal table paralyzed and helpless and lastly the coma made it possible for him to see his first family again. Sure, many of those memories were horrific and painful but they were still memories, starring his three earliest friends and loved ones.

89A95 (his name was Teefs), 89L06 (her name was Floor) and 89Q12 (his beloved Lyla). Lyla... some days he still overthinks his brush with death and if he had truly made the right choice. She had given him the opportunity to go back to his current companions, if he wanted to (he did). One day when his time has come, they'd reunite and fly into the forever and beautiful sky, Rocket thought.

Did he make the right choice by staying? Probably. Maybe. If he had chosen to die, he would have only ended up being a pit of uselessly spent medical equipment which was highly inconvenient. It wasn't like Med Packs cost an arm and a leg but the price tag certainly wasn't cheap and they had wasted used two on him.

The others kept refusing to talk about the subject. Not that Rocket ever brought it up but any time when even the slightest mention of the time he was stuck in the med bay was brought up, they either found a convenient way to change the subject of discussion or to leave the briefing room entirely. He definitely had noticed their glances towards him though.

Whenever he wasn't looking, Rocket could swear that he felt their glances burning a hole into his back. Well, if they refused to talk to him like he was normal, then he would refuse to speak with them as well outside of meetings and the like.

Their behavior was like night and day when compared to before the most recent events or just after he woke up, gasping for air. Rocket chalked it up to adrenaline. Pete Quill had been the first face he saw when he had shot up from the metal he had been placed on. The human had immediately pulled the last of the wires out of his chest, making him wince, while another Med Pack was still following it's purpose as it had knit back together flesh and skin underneath where it was placed.

Rocket remembered desperately trying to open his mouth to suck in more air while he was probably hyperventilating as his mind was panicking any reason away. Quill had been right by his side, pulling away whatever had been keeping his snout shut, enabling him to finally take a deep breath right as someone had pulled away the Med Pack.

The half celestial had immediately pulled Rocket into his arms and clung to him tightly as he felt tears falling onto his shoulders. Groot (where had the kid come from anyway all of the sudden and who allowed him to watch him in this state?) soon joined them and pulled them both close tight.

Other than that, Nebula showing emotion and Mantis' delusional speech about anyone being capable of loving him, no further information was ever given to him. But whatever. If they weren't going to fill him in, he wouldn't care about their views.

Rocket yawned deeply but quickly held his lips shut. He hadn't really slept since the Arête exploded into bits in front of Knowhere. Ok, he rarely every managed to get in 5 hours before that without being woken up by a nightmare or five. To be honest with himself, Rocket was exhausted and could barely keep going on lingering adrenaline and the huge amount of caffeine he kept chugging with his drinks to keep the dosage on a level that would not only do something for him but also keep him awake.

While Med Packs had been and still are revolutionary in their intended field, they did carry some side effects that could simply not be eradicated. Their way of working for example, was not quite what one would expect. They were able to knit back together any kind of organic tissue by activating stem cells and urging them to repair missing and injured cells so long until they were back to a healthy state.

Depending on the severity of the injury, this could take more or less energy from the patient they were used on. Due to that fact though, fabricators included a holo in each package that not only included the how-to-use instructions but also several warnings that spoke of the severe fatigue that followed each usage.

Rocket knew that this fine print advised patients to rest diligently and do the bare minimum of exercise of any kind to combat this side effect as quickly as possible. To him, this was but a mere suggestion. He would be fine. He had always been after a fight.

Rocket remembered that one time he had managed to replace his own cybernetic spinal control and support unit all by himself without assistance. He was just fine after a few days following that procedure as well with no painkillers or anesthesia. Who was to tell him that he couldn't power through this right here as well.

Though it probably wouldn't hurt to rest ones mind for a short moment. Just long enough for the back of his brain to stop burning, Rocket decided while trying to keep his eyes from falling closed. It was a losing battle and soon enough, Rocket slowly succumbed to the inevitable.

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