#gotgfanfic

[colormeyondublue]

Chapter 16: Movie Night

Chapter 15 Here

Your eyes open the next morning, and you find yourself in a daze. Once your vision clears, you sit up straight. You’re in your room. You look around, and you can see sunlight drifting through the blinds in the window. Everything looks normal, but where’s Yondu? Yondu. You begin to panic a little bit. You look down to see a tank top and a pair of your old athletic shorts. No. Is my mind trying to fuck with me? Those three years did happen. I lost everything, but I gained so much. Yondu, where the hell is Yondu. I did not make him up. I did not make up the Ravagers. I was taken. You begin to breathe a little bit heavier. Just then, your door creeps open. It’s your mom.

“Hey sweetie. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Can I get you anything? Where’s your friend? Uh – boyfriend?”

“You mean Yondu?”

“Yes, right. Yondu.”

“Oh thank God! For a moment I thought I had fallen into a coma and the past three years was some insane fever dream. I’m not sure where he went, I just woke up. Bathroom maybe? I’ll go look.”

You make your way down the hall to the bathroom, but don’t see a light on. You push the door open, and see no one. Then you decide that maybe he went downstairs to raid the fridge. You hurry down the stairs and head toward the kitchen when you see a blue figure standing on the back porch. You let out a breath you’ve been holding and smile. I knew I couldn’t have dreamt up someone like him. He’s still wearing the pajamas you gave him last night. A simple white t-shirt and flannel pants. You decide to grab your robe and join him outside.

“’Mornin’ sweetheart.” He says with a big smile. You softly kiss him and look out across the hills behind your house.

“How long have you been out here?” you ask.

“Mmmm… couple hours maybe? Weather sure feels nice, and I wanted to see what your house looked like in the day time. Seen some more critters too.”

“I would be worried if we lived in a neighborhood. Thank the stars we don’t.” You huff out a laugh. I’m gonna head inside and help mom with breakfast, you hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry. Never had terran food b’fore.”

“I promise you’ll like it. I’ve seen you eat some really questionable things on the Eclector – what we eat here shouldn’t be a problem for you.” You say with a hint of sarcasm.

“Sounds good ta me. Lead the way honey.”

You start a pot of coffee and your mom puts the kettle on in case anyone wants tea. You turn on the tv for Yondu, and show him which buttons are important on the remote before you leave him to his own devices. When breakfast is about ready, you return to the living room and are surprised to find Yondu in the armchair watching Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. His eyes are glued to the tv.

Chuckling to yourself, you tell Yondu that breakfast is ready.

“Hey, do you want to come pick some stuff out, or should I make you a plate?” You ask.

Without his eyes moving an inch, he asks you about the movie. Clearly dumbfounded.

“What is this? What am I looking at right now?”

“It’s a movie about Pirates…terran pirates. But it’s totally fictional. I mean, stuff like that did happen a couple hundred years ago, but there are no such things as curses or walking skeleton people.” You laugh.

“I like it. I like it a lot. It almost reminds me of some ‘a the boys back on the ship. This is what ya’ll watch for entertainment?”

“Some people do, yeah. There are all kinds of movies and TV shows. Some are made for entertainment and others are made for education. We can watch more later if you want? The possibilities are endless when it comes to this stuff. You keep watching your movie, Captain, and I’ll go get you a plate.” You nudge his shoulder with your hip when you turn away. Yondu breaks his gaze from the tv just long enough to give your ass a playful smack as you’re heading back to the kitchen, earning himself a squeal and plenty of giggling.

After breakfast, you give Yondu a proper tour of the house. You showed him all of the rooms and all of the places in the house that are special to you. Story upon story comes flowing out, and your brain jumps from memory to memory. He just watches you ramble and it dawn on him that terrans get so attached to things. Things that have both good and bad memories. He wonders if you have these kinds of attachments to the Eclector…or maybe to him? He does his best to ask a question or two, but he prefers to let you get lost in thought. He hasn’t quite seen you this open or vulnerable, but he really likes it. Your planet is beginning to open new windows into who you are.

The afternoon floats by peacefully. After a walk through the woods and a late lunch you decide to come back inside to relax the evening away. You hop in the shower and then show Yondu how it works when you're done. When you’re both comfortable you head back downstairs and let Yondu look at what movies your mom has. He can’t really read the titles, so he goes off what the cover looks like. You head to the kitchen to make some chocolate-peanut butter popcorn.

“What’s this?” Yondu asks as he picks up a couple pieces.

“It’s really good. We used to make it as kids. Give it a try.”

Your hand flies up to Yondu’s mouth just before he pops a few pieces into his mouth.

“What?” He eyes you suspiciously.

“This has peanuts in it. If you start to feel weird or puffy, TELL ME. Okay?”

“Are peanuts poison or somethin’?!” He exclaims.

“No, no, no…but some terrans are allergic to them. Just wanna play it safe is all.” You chuckle.

“Oh…well alright.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t know what a peanut is, but this stuff is damn good!”

“See?! Told ya.”

Yondu shows you what movie he chose for the night, and you couldn’t be happier with his decision.

You pop the movie into the DVD player and giggle excitedly as you snuggle up with him on the couch. Your mom has already gone to bed, and you have the living room to yourselves.

“Honestly, I cannot believe you picked Star Wars, but I could not be more thrilled with your choice. I hope you like it. You already know, humans don’t know much about life outside our solar system. As far as my people are concerned, no one else is out there. So, that being said, we sort of came up with some of our own ideas as to what could be out there. This is totally fictional, so don’t get upset if none of this is as accurate as you would like it to be. Because it won’t be.” You say with a smile.

As the movie begins, Yondu seems to be paying very close attention. He loves the music, and doesn’t mind the dialogue too much.

“The clothes ain’t bad…but I sure as hell wouldn’t wear that travelin’. Come ta think of it, I wouldn’t wear that at all!”

You giggle at each of his comments, and enjoy yourself through the movie more than you thought you would.

“So – lemme get this straight. Them ‘Jedi’ of sorts are supposed ta be able ta move things with their minds?” He asks.

“Yes, it’s called the force. There’s more to it than that, but yes. The Jedi live by a certain code, like Ravagers do. They are trained by other Jedi masters to use the force for good and their weapon of choice is the light saber. See? Luke has a blue one.”

“Hmm…I do like this Hans Solo guy. He’s got the right idea on how ta handle things.”

After a few more comments on Yoda looking weird, Chewy resembling somebody he beat up in a bar once, the Death Star being a stupid engineering idea, and how horrible those blasters are, the movie ends.

“Hey, it’s pretty late. I think I’m gonna head to bed. Want to come with?” You ask.

“Yeah, sure honey. I’m gonna step out and give Krags a call and I’ll meet ya upstairs.” He kisses your forehead and squeezes your butt as you head upstairs.

"Would you leave my ass alone?!" You laugh.

"Can't do it sugar, can't do it." Yondu flashes you a devilish smile as you disappear from sight.

He quietly steps out the back sliding door to make his call. Krags picks up almost instantly. “Yessir, howsit goin’ down on Terra?”

“Not too bad. Learnin’ a lot, her momma seems ta like me…I think. As far as I know we plan on staying a couple weeks as long as nothin’ changes on either end. How is everything goin’ with you?”

“Had a little disagreement among the men on some M-ship maintenance, but it wasn’t nothin’ I couldn’t get sorted. Keepin’ an eye on radar too. Wanna make sure them terrans don’t pick up nothin’ from us. The last thing we need is Nova Prime breathin’ down our necks.” Kraglin sighs.

“Yeah…yer right. Ain’t given them much thought lately. Thanks fer keepin’ everything together Krags.”

“No problem, sir. Let me know if there is anything else I can do fer ya.”

“Will do.”

With that, the comm cuts out.

#Yondu and The Secretary #Yondu Udonta #yondu x reader #marvel #gotg #gotgfanfic #ravager #Terra #Earth #movienight

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score  Ch.18 Repentance

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

It was a lie when they smiled, and said, you won't feel a thing

And as we ran from the cops, we laughed so hard it would sting

Yeah yeah, oh, if I'm so wrong, how can you listen all night long?

Now will it matter, after I'm gone? Because you never learn a goddamn thing

You're just a sad song with nothing to say, about a life long wait for a hospital stay

And if you think that I'm wrong,  this never meant nothing to ya

Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance

Blood pooled under Rocket’s tongue, his sharp teeth biting down trying to staunch the contents of his stomach from erupting out of his stomach.

“Where are we?”

Behind him Nebula followed with a staunch stride, in fact he was surprised she hadn’t shot him and fled the moment they touched down. He almost wished she had. They crept through the concrete landing zone, though all the ships that once pulled up to this planet were now dashed to smithereens. Pieces of crumpled metal lay like tombstones. Rocket tried to calm his breathing, he shuddered, eyes darting about. In all the years he’d been gone it appeared no one had come to this abandoned planet, not either the ravagers had attempted to scavenge the wrecked buildings.

“Halfworld,” he struggled to speak.

He hefted his gun, one of many he’d brought with him. Nebula stepped beside him, glaring about with an ire he would normally appreciate. Now however, he just trembled. Entire body wracked with shaking, adrenaline, ready to fight anything that might come out of the shadows.

“So it's a lab, a zoo?”

The raccoonoid’s stomach curdled, Breathe...just focus...get to the building….3C just….just get inside, fix her and….g...get the fuck out.

“Stay close.”

Nebula grunted but continued on. Some part of him was glad for her presence. Shame and self-loathing twisted inside of him.

They’ll come straight here, they might be here already. No! You’re doing this for Gamora. You fucked up. This is how you fix it, and you can fix Nebula too even if you can never fix yourself. You fucked up. You lied, spied on her...you hit Groot. Tears threatened to streak his eyes.

“T...there it is,” he pointed to the large concrete building, a husky shell of a thing. Clearly unused. Rocket halted in his steps….. the doors…. the doors were still broken open. In the darkness he made out the torn rents of metal where he’d blasted through the bolts with an improvised bomb. Screeching, fire and blood, smoke, choking smoke, stinging in his lungs.

The raccoonoid sniffed, wiping a paw across his face and leveled his gun, stepping across the threshold into the bowels of the building.

“Stay close, if you hear anything shoot it.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the woman growled, she bent her arm and Rocket watched a series of clicks and mechanisms come together, turning her hand into a firearm. In any other situation he would’ve admired it but they came to a cross section at the end of a long hall and he stopped, looking around. Paneling from the ceiling had fallen down, hanging by a chord. Dried crusted blood smattered the wall, filling his nose with a scent of rotting flesh and stale chemicals.

Needles punctured into flesh, straps too tight, pinching. The stiff metal table. Their masks, their laughter, their tools. His body opened, the feel of the fetid air brushing against organs and tissues that were never meant to know a breeze.

One paw went to his stomach on instinct. His ears swiveling to pick up any sound. Only Nebula’s heavy foot falls. He gathered himself, stomach still roiling.

“Fox!”

His head snapped up, blinking hard, he ran one paw over his face.

“W...what?”

“Which way?”

Rocket swallowed the lump in his throat, the metallic taste of blood still on this tongue. He shook his head, which way….I came from...down there...shot that one, his eyes rested on the dusty remains of a body, now nothing but bone.

“G...gimme a sec.”

Before she could object he stumbled off down the hall, leaned against the wall and vomited. Here he was again, just a sick animal surrounded by other sick, dying, drooling, decaying animals. Or so they were, before he had escaped in a bloody spectacle of gun fire and rage.

She can see you, his pride warned. But the raccoonoid hardly registered, pinching his eyes shut against the involuntary force of his gut, synching and surging painfully. He wretched again, trying to breathe between spouts of puking.

Pull yourself together! How the flark are you gonna get anything done if you can’t walk down a d’ast hallway?! They ain’t here no more. No one’s here, you made sure of that. How else are you gonna make it up to Gamora? Or Groot….? The image of the scared little flora, reeling from the blow Rocket dealt him  branded in his mind. He swallowed another round of vomit, acid burning at his throat.

“What’s the matter fox? Eat too much garbage?”

Rocket wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw.

“This way,” he steadied his grip on his gun, holding it with two hands and shuffled forward, around the bodies. Down the dark corridor, doors evenly spaced on either side. He knew better than to look up into the shattered windows of the various laboratories. They crept along, through the double doors and down a flight of stairs, deeper underground through the vast labyrinth of rooms filled with cages, testing chambers, operating theaters, chemical testing labs. Rocket’s hair stood on end, remembering the menagerie of agonies.

Just keep going, you got out of here with thousands of guards you’ll be in and out quick as a rocket with no one to stop you. Ha, rocket. He allowed himself a bemused smile, that was the reason for his name after all.

“Agh!”

Rocket spun, bristling, gun aimed, chest pounding, his breath caught.

“I stepped in something,” Nebula yelped, lifting her foot out of whatever it was.

Still shaking with adrenaline the raccoonoid hurried forward, and halted.

The broken skeleton of some small creature lay dispersed and crumbling in the dusty hall. The empty sockets of its eyes staring at them both. Its skeleton had only been partially enhanced as detailed by the odd bending of vertebrae and rusted metal. Rocket crouched, sniffing, whiskers twitching and squinted at the metal panel still fused into the base of the skull. Shining a light on it, he drew a quick breath, realizing.

“You recognize him?”

“Her,” the raccoonoid corrected.

She was in the cage below mine.

Nebula made no retort, but he could feel her eyes on him. He forced himself back up, clearing his throat and sniffing.

Breathe….in...out...you’re doing this for Gamora. You’re not gonna fuck up again. You can’t...you owe Gamora that much.

“We’re almost there,” he wheezed through the fight to keep his breath steady. Nebula shook her head curtly, motioning for him to move forward. Rocket slid his back against the wall before the next corner, holding his gun close to his chest, holding his breath, knowing what he was about to face.

The double doors of the room had long since broken, lying like two more bodies on the hard floor. Beyond the threshold the procedural room yawned like a black hole. He could make out the single ominous table, the five large oversize lights hovering above like demons ready to spirit someone away. Those bright piercing lights illuminating a subject’s insides, penetrating light into everything, exposing things meant to be left in the dark. The fur on Rocket’s arms rose, the cybernetics in his shoulders and spine clenched with tension. He picked at his fur with tension.

“Ah,” he bit his tongue once more, forcing down the high pitched whine that nearly escaped him. The raccoonoid forced himself closer, each step heavy as led. His tail twitched, legs tensed ready to bolt. Though the mind may forget, may block out certain memories, the body remembers everything.

You do this, she won’t hurt Gamora no more. She’ll stop. That was the deal. Gamora won’t have to run...won’t have to be so scared. Tears pricked his eyes as he picked over the broken double doors, and crossed into that dank, room. The last time he was in this lab, he’d escaped. Killing the scientists and orderlies and bursting out the door. Groot was with him. He longed for the flora now, not the little thing who had emerged from a pot but his old best friend. Groot had been the reason for a majority of the rotting skeletons he and Nebula had passed. He wanted the large tree with him, that towering presence. If anything happened, if the Halfworlders who were out there looking for him did come, Groot would be there to protect him. But no...Groot was dead.

At least Groot didn’t die in here, Rocket thought bitterly. A stabbing pain in his gut. Tears ran down his furred cheeks. He sucked a painful breath, the sterol scent of chemicals still lingered in the air, burning him with memories. He longed for those tight wooden arms now, that gentle soothing place he had risked his life to get to just down the hall where their cages sat next to one another. He’d learned to bypass the security and slip passed the bars into the flora’s holding cell, spending the sleepless nights therein.

“So this is where you’re going to fix me?” Nebula asked, looking around the dark room. She surveyed the monitors and equipment, still hanging from wires, there were medical tools scattered about. Computers, carts of liquid vials, an array of needles, restraints, scalpels, a saw. Everything just where they left it. He thought with a shuddered breath.

“Y...yeah, I think I got everything I need..r..right...h..here.” Rocket gestured lamely around the room. Nebula looked up at the large overhead lights, two of which were out, bulbs shattered. Rocket turned the remaining light on, wincing at the white flash of memories slapped across his mind.

He wiped his eyes hastily before turning around and looking at her as she hoisted herself up with ease onto the fated cold table. Rocket sighed, rummaging around for the clear, anesthesia liquid that the scientist kept locked away. He found it easily enough following the sharp scent of it, familiar and immediately bringing him back to the day’s he’d been the one on that table.

Focus, focus. Breathe….you’re the one with the scalpel now. Not them. They're dead.  A small smirk escaped him.

“What’s that?” Nebula glared at the needle poised in the raccoonoid’s paw.

“It’s an anesthetic,” Rocket explained, slowly looking at it as though it were about to come to life and prick him. “I told yah I could undo what Thanos did to yah, and I can but it ain’t gonna be pretty. You want to be knocked out for this, trust me.”

The cyborg woman eyed him, her own gaze much like his. Solid black eyes, with no iris or pupil. Foreign and unnerving. A chill ran down his spine, and not from the hollow breeze blowing through hallowed halls.

“I’m trusting you to not use it,” she countered, though she spoke uncommonly soft. Rocket opened his mouth to press her but stopped. If Gamora’s past was any inclination, there was no doubt Thanos had not offered the younger sister the luxury of anesthetic. The raccoonoid knew well what happened to those who had felt the scalpel one too many times. The body, animal or humanoid did what it did best: adapted. After enough procedures freakish panic turned to heightened panic, heightened panic to fighting, fighting to exhaustion, exhaustion….expectation and finally, grim resolve. If Nebula’s procedures were any like his own then she had grown to expect anguish. Never desensitized, but accustomed to the dance of fight or flight, survival and eventually resolve. At this point she had probably grown more used to that than the uncertainty of falling into a chemically induced sleep not knowing who or what she’d be when she awoke. He looked her over, then set the large needle down.

“Your body, your choice.”

He heard her whisper a ‘thank you’ while he back was turned but did not acknowledge it.

“Alright lay down.”

She obeyed, reclining on the metal slab, face tight. She fidgeted into the most comfortable or at least neutral position possible. With shaking paws he reached for the restraints.

“I won’t move,’ she snapped, voice cracking. He let go of the cuffs. Waiting.

“I won’t move,” she repeated. “Trust me.”

Rocket looked her over, she was more metal than flesh. He finally nodded, climbing up on the table beside her, crouching over her arm. He held his breath, holding the scalpel tight and got to work.

---

In some ways it was easier, in other ways it was harder. Rocket refused to look at her face. If he did, he’d stop and if he stopped the deal would be done and she’d go after Gamora. He worked diligently, it's just another gun, another bomb, another machine. No. It’s not, she’s a person. An evil person but a person. Don’t be like them. They’re the really evil ones.  Steady, stop shaking, don’t vomit. Not one’s here, no one’s coming.

He pulled the taunt faux flesh over from her elbow down to the wrist. It didn’t take long to find the storage, to dye it and measure and cut. He never bothered ransacking the supplies of the place and he knew where to find whatever he needed. Even reduced to abandoned disarray the labs of Halfworld itself were always happy to provide tools of ingenuity and suffering. Art, the scientists had called it. Never saying what their ambitions truly were, butchery. Torture.

Nebula let out a hiss of pain here, a bite of her lip there, but she kept her word and kept still. Only arching her back off the table twice and quickly righting herself. Expertly clenching her muscles and sucking in the pain.

Like sister like...sister. Rocket thought bleakly.

“Almost done,” he tried to assure her, fixing the fake flesh to her wrist. The hand was already done, each finger neatly covered with the skin like material and dyed to match her natural tone. She requested he keep some modifications in place, like the ability to turn said hand into a gun. He did this by leaving her palm alone, the small gun therein could come out if she willed it, covered by what would look like a black fingerless glove.

“T...there,” he finished, examining the arm in its entirety. She flexed it experimentally and eased herself up, dizzy at first. “Easy...it's gonna take a few hours to heal, even with the laser seal.”

Nebula nodded but bent the arm back and forth watching the flexible flesh move with her. Rocket spied the smallest inclination of her lips.

“Told ya I’d make it better.”

She looked up, glaring at him.

“You said you’d fix all of it,” her voice fell to a snarl.

“I will, I will,” he assured, sniffing and rubbing his eyes. Fatigue ached his eyes, suppressing the frenzied urge to run stole any strength of concentration from him,  and the arm was the easy part.

Nebula lay back down, adjusting herself slightly and took a deep breath.

“You don’t wanna….a...break for a sec? You were just lying down for like….eight terran hours.”

Rocket looked around, chest heaving in preparation as he peered down the dark hall the way they had come, nothing.

“Well? What are you waiting for Fox?”

The raccoonoid tried to breathe, looking over the metal plating in her face and skull. His stomach summersaulted, the room going darker, head spinning.

Just...concentrate…

The raccoonoid hopped down from the table, on to the floor and dragged over a nearby stool, up to her head and hovered directly over her face.

“If you try anything,” she seethed, “I’ll kill you.”

Even in his delirium Rocket recognized an empty threat when he heard one.

“Just….hol….hold still.”

Maybe this was his repentance, sort of. If he were worthy of it. Rocket gingerly lifted the main panel from her head that curved over the dome of her head to just over her right eye.

“Stars,” he breathed, eyes widening. “What’d he do to you.”

“Everything he didn’t want to do to Gamora.”

The venom in her voice was plain. For once Rocket did not form a rebuttal. Staring into the inner workings of Nebula’s cybernetically enhanced mechanized brain was staring into the one part of himself he could not see during the procedures. Is this...what I look like...on the inside?  His insides curled in on themselves, the chronic pain in his cybernetics ached and pinched.

Use the pain, channel it.

He did, the noxious nervous energy wracking him to the point of near mania. Mania he forced into working on Nebula’s cerebral enhancements. Wire by wire, snipping things there, modifying things here.

“A’right,” he sighed, setting down the tongs he’d been working with. “Almost done. Now come the memories. What you want me to get rid of?”

He waited for a moment, taking the time to run his paws through his fur, shaking his head. Once again he forced himself to look up, down the empty hallway. Expecting the Halfworlders to come charging in, or one of the corpses on the floor to leap to life.

“Leave it all,” she whispered hoarse. He frowned, staring down at her.

“Yah...sure?”

Nebula’s eyes shifted, her hands knotting together.

“Yes.”

“You really are a masochist,” he grumbled.

“I never knew my true parents. I was an urchin on Wresreenia before Thanos found me. I have nothing else. If I don’t have the rage of those memories...I have nothing.”

“Yeah,” Rocket agreed.  He would have laughed with the ironic similarity between them. The scientists effectively erased all memory of anything before Halfworld. What he was before he was made he did not know. All he knew was that he wasn’t always like he was now.

“Alright, last part. Hold still I’m gonna put the plating back and cover it with that same fleshy covering. The laser seal will leave a small scar but it’ll heal.”

Almost done...you’re almost done...just close her up and you’ll be outta here.

Rocket measured and set the fleshy covering that would go over the panel, already dyed to match her skin and stretched it, shifting about her shoulders and reaching as far as he could to pull it down, hold it in place and close it up.

“Okay, the eyes the last bit,” the raccoon flexed his fingers, aching from the tools and precision. His back wracked with kinks from trying to get the tools at the right angel wherever he needed them. The metal in his skeleton grind against his bones.

The cybernetics around her eye were tiny, nearly imperceptible with enhanced optical cables for enhanced night vision. The raccoonoid hunched over her face, carefully extracting the machinery that made her eyes into scopes, immediately able to identify a target’s weaknesses and anticipating their next move. He left the night vision per her request.

“Is that it?” He could hear the begging in her voice, thin and hopeful.

“All we gotta do is jumpstart your system again,” he answered. A black pit forming in his insides, he eyed the busted generator typically used to start up cybernetic systems. Wires and cables all fell around it and spilled out like guts, several pieces missing.

“How are we going to do that?”

Rocket searched around for any inkling of an idea, spare parts, batteries, something, anything.

“Uhh….”

“You don’t know?!” Nebula cried, clearly fury almost hiding her fright.

“I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin….” the raccoonoid paused.

It worked with Gamora’s arm...I could use my own cybernetics as the jumpstart….but with Gams it was just a simple set in her arm. I’d have to boost Nebula’s entire system….

He glanced behind her at the port in the base of her head. Unlike her sister’s meticulously placed cybernetics, each fixed with precise care, Nebula’s were shunted in every which way, haphazard.

Even if my wiring were enough to do it….I’d have to maximize electrical output to her...it’d be risky. I could fry my whole system…. he didn’t know what would happen. Still, he jumped down, scavenging through the drawers and store closets for any spare cables. A restraint staff with electrical prongs lay on the floor in the hall a few feet away.

“I thought...we were a family...Groot taught me that. That’s what his sacrifice meant to me. I thought....I was sure it would mean something to you too. I thought if anyone could get through to you it would’ve been him.” Gamora’s voice howled in his mind as he grabbed a bunch of wires, sizing them up.

“What are you doing fox?”

“Shhh, lemme think!” He hissed, pulling one of the blue wires from the bundle, this would do. He took his gun from his holster and crept slowly into the hall, resisting the urge to pull at his fur.

Gamora was right. You sold your teammate for money...Groot would be ashamed of you. His sacrifice taught Gamora something. What will it teach you?

“Gamora is worth it,” he whispered through his tears of fear. He seized the electrical staff, scurried back to Nebula and stood beside her on the table.

Groot thought we were worth dyn’ for…Gamora’s worth this. Even if it goes wrong. I always knew I’d die in this shit hole anyway.  

So what if he did kick the can in here? What would that make him? No better than any of the other sorry subjects who met their end against the tests or under the chemicals.

He yanked his jumpsuit down and shoved plugged the cable into the back of his head, twisting it in until he heard the click.

“What?” Nebula demanded, she sat on the edge of the table now, ready to leap off.

“Nothing. I’m gonna jumpstart your system with my own.”

Gamora is worth it, you little monster.

“This is gonna hurt for both of us, but once your cybernetics get back online you’ll know. When they’re back and you can move, unplug this from my back okay?”

The cyborg woman nodded curtly, dark eyes flashing.

“You remember your parta the deal?”

“Yes.”

“A'ight then smurfette.”

Rocket hooked the other end of the cable into her, then glanced down at his own implants and picked up the electro restraining staff.  He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his paw, tears now staining the fur of his face. He grit his teeth, switched the electrical staff on and pushed it against the bolts in his clavicle.

White hot bolts of static stabbed through his chest, expanding out his entire body, through his limbs and to his writing tail. The body remembers. He curled inward on himself, dropping the staff to the ground and gripping the edge of the metal, scraping his claws against it. Someone was screaming. Rocket’s body vibrated with the energy of electricity, his pain receptors firing off all at once. He tensed, nearly levitating off the cold slab. The thing inside his skull vibrated.

S….sorr...Gams...b...breathe...just...b..brea…

“AAARRRGGGHHHH!”

He couldn’t tell who was wailing, him or Nebula.

Roving eyes fell on the cyborg woman. He clawed to get to her, though she herself was haunched, biting her lip so hard it bled. The wire between them sparked and fizzed with electric activity.

“Mora…” he gasped, reaching out through the pins and needles in his limbs and grasped for Nebula’s shirt. He crouched on her chest, balling his fist around her collar so tight it tore.

“Gime. Your. Word.”  He seethed, choking through the pink of foam and blood and filled his mouth.

Nebula forced her eyes open, her mouth in a tightly pressed line. Like him the electricity beneath her new skin glowed with purple light.

“I….w...won’t...k...kill her. I...i'll g...give h...her...a...c..chance."

Maybe Nebula never wanted to kill Gamora in the first place, maybe she just wanted someone to listen. Rocket felt his insides shaking harder, the machine in his chest he wished was a heart jumped and started. His muscles seized, tightening, paws shaking. He tried to breathe, lungs spasming with shards of glass. Everything swam, the lights above became dull, his mind clouded, unable to think, to reason. There was no thought, only feeling and non feeling . He couldn’t feel the cyborg lady’s shirt anymore, or her chest on which he crouched. He could feel jets of agonized burning pulses tore through him, heating every piece of metal inside of him.

His mind gone, his body adapted, trying desperately to protect itself by straining to curl into a ball. If only his motor function would cooperate.

“Subject 89P13 is nearly complete…..

“I’m kinda disappointed, I thought it’d be better, this one’s kinda weak.”

Stabbing, clenching.

“You were awake...when they did this to you.”

Gamora

“Thank you.”

Her hand, warm and friendly, holding his.

“Nebula!”

Something somewhere shouted, muffled, like hearing someone speak underwater.

“Let him go! Our feud does not concern him!”

Rocket tried to move his head towards the noise, but it was so heavy, his body would not obey. He curled, tightening, vision turning to black. Pressure builded against his back, at the base of his skull and down through his spine. Pressing and restricting and then….everything stopped.

#the body keeps the score fic #gotg #rocket raccoon #gamora #nebula #peter quill #star lord #drax the destroyer #gotgfanfic #Guardians of the Galaxy #my writing

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Ch. 21

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain. This chapter contains torture, medical/surgical torture/shooting/guns being shot. I want to be super sensitive to folks who might be triggered by these subjects. Please take care while reading*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me

I'll shake this world off my shoulders

Come on..., this laugh's on me

You can't start a fire

You can't start a fire without a spark

This gun's for hire

Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

Dancing in the Dark - Bruce Springsteen

“Peter. Get Drax and Groot...get them back to the ship. Now.” Gamora breathed through clenched teeth. Rocket barely heard her, eyes fixed on Groot who whined and scurried back to Quill. The mechanical thing in his heart hammered away, making his chest cinch with pain. His muscles tensed, claws tight against the trigger of Quill’s blaster.

“Gamora,” Quill pleaded, “I’m not leaving you here with these….these,” he turned to the Halfworlder’s, “what exactly are you? Because I picture you like mad scientists but you’re also clearly aliens so….mad scientist aliens?”

“Peter!” Gamora’s eyes stared unbroken at the two figures in the doorway. “Get them back to the ship, NOW!”

Rocket glanced down at Drax, still clutching his side and moaning on the floor.

“Do you trust me?” She hissed, the human man swallowed.

“I could kiss you right now.”

“Not now Peter! GO!”

The man nodded, moving over to Drax and helping the man off his feet. Groot hauled himself up on Quill’s jacket, looking over his shoulder at Rocket. The raccoonoid held his breath, watching the little flora’s eyes wide with confusion.

“Rocket…” Quill turned to him, mouth open trying to find the right words.

“Get out of here!” The raccoonoid sighed, reaching for the gun, and tossed  it to him with a heavy hand.

The man caught it. “Go!”

“What about you?!”

“Yah heard Gams, get outta here! Take Groot and go!”

For once in his life, StarDork listened to him.

“I’ll see you later.”

He watched Quill take one last look at Gamora and moved quickly past the Halfworlder’s, daring them to make any move in protest.

“We aren’t here for them,” the female reprimanded her colleague, the male, who leered towards Quill as he snuck past. “You heard her orders. We are to get Subject 89P13 only.”

Something wet and warm trickled down the raccoonoid’s leg. If he’d been anywhere else, he’d be ashamed. But this place….it stripped all shame all confidence of you. Revealing only your deepest fears and insecurities to the point where you no longer cared about your dignity. Only your survival. The two, Rocket had learned long ago...were easily severed.

The female alien grinned, turning back to him, Gamora and Nebula.

“You really thought you escaped, didn’t you?” They rushed forward, revealing those all too familiar electric prongs.

Rocket panicked, scrambling for anything in sight.

“Quick try this!”

The ringtail swiped the device that the Halfworlder’s gave Gamora from her belt.

“Rocket no! Don’t!”

He charged ahead, pressing the center button on the device, aiming at their chests.

He dropped the device instantly. His back arching, scalding pain alit his small nervous system, sending off pain receptors everywhere, snapping and popping. He swallowed the animalistic whimper building in his throat, curling himself in a ball. His hair stood on end, white electricity snapping and crackling. Every hard stood on end even as he fell to the ground, body twitching.

Gamora ran forward, sword out, beating them back as best she could.

“Nebula get him….aaarrrghhhh!!!!”

The raccoonoid blinked slowly. Through his blurry vision he could barely make out  the male alien, sticking one of the pokers in Gamora’s side, taking advantage of her momentary distraction. She crumpled beside him, her own cybernetics in her face glowing and sparking. If he hadn’t been in so much pain...and so furious...he may have felt a twinge of sympathy. Maybe.

“H...how...l..long have y...you b...ben holding on to ...t..th...that?” He panted through the burning in his belly.

Gamora twisted her neck around, glaring daggers at him from under a messy tangle of her hair.

“About as long as you were spying on me.”

Rocket snarled, teeth bared a nasty reply formed but never delivered. Rough hands grabbed him by the scruff, jerking him up with an agonizing pinch in the back of his neck.

“What are you going to do with them?” Nebula’s rough voice cut through the sound static sparking through the bolts in his back.

Rocket tried to swipe back at them, legs and tail thrashing madly, every move met with flaring stinging agony.

“That is no concern of yours.”

Nebula’s gaze found him, Rocket struggled to keep his eyes open.

“It’s a pity,” the alien woman holding him continued. “Thanos never sold us any of his projects. Even a defective one.” She ran her oily eyes over Nebula with a dehumanizing appraisal Rocket knew all too well. Nebula winced. The alien woman turned back to him, tightening her grip on his fur. “But alas, vermin were free and expendable, so vermin is what we worked with. Luckily Terra had vermin to spare.”

Someone grunted, Rocket clenched his teeth, twisting to see Gamora drag herself up once more, clutching her side. The cybernetics in her face glowing with electricity. She tensed, adjusting her grip on her sword and moving forward. Nebula grabbed her shoulders, steadying her, whispering something he could not hear.

“Come, she will be waiting for him.”

This time, he could not stifle the whimper coming from his throat.

---

“P….please,” he tried, vision swimming.

Where the flark are we?

His mind was sluggish, limbs and tail heavy. He’d been stripped down. Someone was inserting tubes into his back, his ears twitched at the click as it locked into place. Arms hung suspended, head low.

This isn’t a lab...a ship? No. We’re not on a ship. Where’s my fucking gun? Where’s...Gamora? Groot? GROOT?

Rocket tried to struggle, only to stumble and sag with the weight of the tubes fixated to his back and into the front of the bolts of the cybernetics in his clavicle. Thick fluid syrupy and cold made its way from the machine and into his body. He could feel it moving through him, doing who knew what. For all his genius and awareness, for all his sentience, they’d made sure he knew very little about his own making. Rocket, who knew every type of gun on every planet, who could replicate a resecian bomb and could pilot even the most ancient of Esselian crafts….knew nothing of his own biology.

“Please,” he whispered the shadow of the alien Halfworld woman falling over him. She crouched down to him, slit pupiled eyes staring into him. 

“Please...d...don’t take me apart again. I...d..don’t want to be put back together.” The very thought of enduring that again made his body tremble, tubes and wires rattling with his movement. They pulled on him, tearing his skin.

“Oh you won’t be,” she smirked, revealing yellow fangs. “Not this time.”  The raccoonoid’s belly sunk with icy dread.

No….stop it… claw her eyes out! Too tired….can’t move freely...what are they putting inside me? Whymy….dizzy?

“Your creator has no interest in her failed experiment.”

Failed.  

Failed Gamora

Failed Groot

Failed the new version of Groot

Hurt Gamora

Betrayed Gamora

Hurt Groot

Failed

He couldn’t make the words right, thoughts came slow and jumbled and when they did come to him...he couldn’t...couldn’t make his mouth move to form the words.

“F...faile...faild?”

Through blurry vision, he could see the Halfworlder nod.

“You are a cruel and tempestuous wretch. Your existence to an affront to all who breathe. You were given life by the hands of your creator because she wanted to make something beautiful.” The alien continued, words reaching his ears in slow motion. Rocket swayed, closing his eyes. The chemicals coming through those tubes...they were putting things into his blood, but somehow….sucking him dry of any awareness. His mind tried to go through the rolodex of toxins, poisons but couldn’t name any.

A monster….

A monster who betrays their friends

A monster who hit Groot

He tried to flex his paws but the movement was clumsy.

“We will be getting on our way soon enough. By the time we get back your cerebral deprograming will be complete and hopefully she will be able to harvest what’s left.”

What’s left?

GET A GUN YOU IDIOT! FIGHT, CLAW THIS BITCH TO PIECES! TEAR THESE FUCKING TUBES! RUN! RUN! RUN!

Rocket tried to move, to swipe weakly at the woman before him. She only smirked, standing. Eyes looking over his vulnerable twitching form for a moment, making him want to claw her insides out. But his chest only sunk with an invisible weight. She sniffed, and departed. His eyes closed to black before she left the room.

Gamora...she was  asleep during her enhancements...no. Not asleep. Gone. Gone during her enhancements and brought back after. Where did she go? Where was he going? His brain liquidating in his skull, his body pumped with unknown substances. 

How did Gamora do it? 

How did she stand it? What did she cling to when she was falling away?

Failed.

A failed subject. A failed friend.

Rocket hung suspended from the wires and tubes that created and would now destroy him. The worst thing was….he didn’t mind. The ringtail smiled to himself, letting his eyes close again. Chemicals rushing through him in a tumult of nausea and spinning. The dark behind his eyes was different from that of sleep...somehow even that blackness was unnatural.

It’s better...like this. ...G...Gamora will...what are they doing to me? Gamora will...get the others back to the….to the...the thing that will let them get away. RUN! CLAW! TEAR! TEAR OUT THESE THINGS AND GO! She’ll get em to safety...Why’d you come here? Didn’t I escape Halfworld? No. Never left. Groot...Groot where’s Groot? Did I….GET OUT!

Rocket’s mind drifted from one fractured thought to another

Earthen smells…other smells. Gamora….repairing her arm.

Her words.

What did she say?

GET OUT OF HERE! KICK, CLAW, SCREAM! SHOOT! SHOOT THE GUN!

He was drowning….drowning from the inside out. The buzzing and clicking around the room now sounded funny. His tongue tasted salty in his mouth,

Flecks of wood chips from the blast on Xandar.

Groot. Dead.

His own claws tearing through wood...scratching the new Baby Groot.

“Cerebral deprogramming 55% complete.” Voices...far away...like they were muffled underwater.

Rocket clenched his fists, trying to concentrate on the reality of his surroundings. Claws digging into the sensitive pads of his paws. He sniffed, trying to recall what was around him. Chemicals, metal, blood.

GET A G….

What was that word?

The thing that fired bullets that stopped people in their tracks.

The woman with the green skin. The woman he hurt. The tree creature, small and crying for him. Him. What was him? A cruel tempestuous creature.

He tried to move, but only flung his head backward in a coordinated effort. Sending more shocks of anguish through his own skeleton.

I’m sorry…..

I’m sorry….

I never shoulda….

IThing went too far…

I’m sorry…

I’m….

I’m…

I…..I...I...

You, you, you…

You ...the tree thing….you, the green woman

The green woman who hurt as much as he did.

G...m...Gmora

S...ry...Gaamo..r...a

Friend.

Rocket’s mind lost words….vision long since having gone black. He was slipping. Falling… dimly aware of the throbbing in his neck and throughout his cybernetics. He went stiff, straining against whatever the aliens had injected into him. But that battle was lost the moment they’d hooked him to the tubes. Still the raccoonoid went rigid against it. Until he couldn’t. All that bravado and zeal for nothing.

“Deprograming is at 63%.”

“Good. Come, we’ll prepare the ship to leave. By the time we get back it’ll be done.”

“Hang on, these outputs are outrageous! It actually bonded with Subject FC616! Oh look it’s crying! You gotta see these images! 89P13 certainly tried to make a life for itself.”

“Good. She’ll want to see it all upon our return.”

“Regret...sorrow...grief...joy...music…? It makes no sense.”

“It was responding to stimulus from the outside environment. It’s programming filled in the gaps for what it believed it should “feel.” It was designed to do that.”

“Huh. Alright, let’s go.”

The doors slid closed, Rocket’s consciousness ebbed. Sinking away. So heavy.

Gmra...Grot…

---

“Rocket!”

“Rocket!”

Something warm and rough cupped around him...around his...shoulders?

The ringtail fought back the darkness as soon as he became aware of it. Being dragged up from wherever he’d been. An endless void of  black nothing.

A voice.

He blinked, slowly, colors of green and pink?

“Rocket look at me,” the thing before him spoke fast. “I know you're scared, I know you’re in pain. I know how that feels. You know I do.”

Focus….

Can’t….tired...

FOCUS!

“I know this is the most horrifying place in the galaxy for you.” Rocket swayed from side to side, trying to rock himself awake. But the dark void place he’d been beckoned. Pulled at him. So nice, so blank...so devoid of everything.

“I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. That’s why we need to get out of here but I need your gun. Where is it? Can you point?”

Rocket gestured vaguely. The woman...he could tell it was a woman now. But who? She looked in the direction he indicated. Only to return her gaze to him, her eyes. Her eyes were somehow soft and hard at the same time.

….Gmmmm….m...or...ra?

Ga..mora?

Gamora?!

“Rocket….I need you to tell me where they put your gun.”

“...G...mora?”

His chest tingled, his limbs and tail still lead weight. He could barely move. Trying to clear his head of the dense fog inside his skull.

She shook him, his cybernetics fizzing painfully. The fire in his nerves jolted at him.

“Ga...Gamora?!”

“Yes! Good! Now, where is your gun?!”

Something behind her crashed. Screamed.

The ringtail roved his eyes over the room, to the right, then the left. Counters, buttons, monitors.

“Rocket!” She hissed urgently. “Look at me! Do you trust me?”

Rocket blinked in momentary recognition, then nodded.

Gamora leapt upward, grunting as she collided with the figure who’d barged into the room. He watched them wrestle, each grappling for the other. The green woman’s sword came down, again and again, trying to strike, stumbling back, striking again. She twisted, running the butt of her sword into the other woman’s head. The Halfworlder grunted, curling into a ball. Gamora ran forward, yanking the wires and tubes from him. They released with an agonizing twist, the liquid chemicals leaking out clear and congealing. Rocket’s legs flooded, tail trying to find balance but failed.

“Where’s your gun?!”

“G...gun?”

A second figure tore into the room, this one larger. The rushed for Gamora who lifted her sword just in time to fend him off. They sprung apart and she grabbed a handful of tubing in her fists, swinging it towards him. He cursed, stumbling back,wiping the liquid from his face.

Rocket let out an involuntary squeak, the alien woman regained her footing now aimed at him, clawed hands ready to seize him. He tried to spring out of the way, but his body wouldn’t follow direction and he flopped to the ground, only to be caught up in her iron grip. He kicked, clawing.

“Rocket!”

He turned, Gamora backed away from the alien man, eyes searching for anything she could use as a weapon.

“Th...there!” Rocket managed to nod towards where he spotted his jumpsuit any other items, tucked away by one of the monitors. Gamora crouched just before the Halfoworlder punched. She slid on the ground running to the counter, madly rifling through his belongings.

“How does this work?” She screamed, letting out a cry of anger and lifting her blade over her head with her spare arm, she brought it down on the male Halfworlder. He screeched, stumbling back clutching his arm.

“Sh...shoot...e..em w...with the...not handle part!”

“I know that much!”

The alien who held him tightened her grip, Rocket’s vision spun. His mind and body had not fully returned to him.

“You insufferable animal!”

Claws dug into his back, around the tender skin grafted around his cybernetic paneling. Digging into his flesh and yanking at him. The wiring beneath the skin pulled at the veins and tissue

“Rocket hold still!”

Gamora shouted, holding the gun with ready arms, she peered through the scope, trying to get the accurate aim.

“Gamora!”

The male alien lunged for her, knife out and ready to tear the gun from her hands. She turned, instantly and shot.

Rocket watched with wide eyed shock as the alien’s head jerked back and his body collapsed, twitching and went still.

The sharp tear in his skin, raw and stinging brought him back to the face of the Halfworld alien. She sneered, tugging at the panel in his back. The ringtail panicked, this time his body obeyed, more or less. He lashed out with his claws, ears pinned to his skull, mouth foamed with blood and saliva. He buckled and wriggled, ignoring the fiery shock ravaging through his body.

“Hold still!”

“C...can’t!”

Rocket strained to shout, throat rasping.

The alien pulled again, this time eliciting the ringtail to vomit in pain. He pinched his eyes shut against the wrenching in his spine as she tugged at the panel again.

No...no...no...no!

BAM!

Rocket dropped to the floor with a hard thunk, his insides quivering with the impact. His tail twitched, electricity around the panel in his back fritzed out. He reached one arm up slowly, trying to message the area around the damaged panel.

Gamora stormed ahead, past him, to where the alien woman crouched, one hand to her shoulder. Black blood bubbled up from the surface of her wound.

“L….Lady...G...Gamora, pl..please. W...we can compensate you for it. How much...d..do you want? Units? Esken gold?”

Rocket tried to heave himself up, swallowing the blood  in his mouth. His whole body ached. Vision still blurred around the edges. He faded in and out of awareness, recurring shocks of stinging pain waved over him every few seconds, bringing him back to consciousness.

Gamora bared her teeth, looming over the Halfworlder, gun at her head.

“Ga….Gams,” he tried.

“N…..n….name your price….D...daughter of T...Thanos.”

“Shut up!” She hefted the gun, squeezing the trigger.

“Go on…” the Halfworlder grinned. “I’m hardly the first person you’ve killed….y...you enj...enjoy it...don’t y...you? He...he raised you well.”

Rocket stood on shaking legs,

“G...Gamora!”

The woman ignored him, leering at the injured alien woman. Her whole body shaking.

“W...what's it worth to you? We’ll double it. N...name your price.”

She turned over her shoulder, looking at him. Rocket froze, staring at her. Gamora adjusted her grip on the gun but did not look away, her eyes boring into him. The ringtail steadied himself under the crushing weight of her gaze.

She wouldn’t….she said she wouldn’t before...even when she was angry…

“I’m not like you.”

“Go on...d..daughter of Thanos...what will you trade for it? We’ll give you anything you want.”

Gamora looked at him, eyes narrow with contempt. He watched her bite the inside of her cheek. His own stomach turning.

“....well?”

She took a breath, held it. Still staring at him unblinking. He watched her turn her stance, pointing the barrel of the gun squarely between his eyes.

Rocket’s guts squirmed, tail sticking up, hairs prickling.

...Gamora….

She glared at him from above the gun, barely breathing.

“G...gams...I…”

Her brows narrowed,

Do. You. Trust. Me?

Yes.

Her wrist flicked, he flinched, going on all fours instantly. Then blinked, her fingers no longer held the trigger, but rotated the weapon around handing it to him.

It dawned on him too late.

The Halfoworld alien screeched in rage, making her move, leaping upward. Gamora spun, gun still in hand,

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The alien dropped instantly going still, blood pooling under her.

“We have to go,” Gamora ordered, monotone.

The ringtail opened his mouth but the words were still slow.

“Put this on,” she ordered, throwing his jumpsuit at him. “Can you walk?”

“Tsch...of course I …”

She didn’t wait for him. Dropping the gun, turning on her heel, and out of the lab room a limp in her step.

“Gams! W...wait!”

He tripped up, not expecting her to stop. She looked down at him, skeptical.

Flark me,

Rocket reached out, shaking paws grabbing at her boot. He hoisted himself up, crawling his way up her back and purchasing on her shoulder. She shifted her shoulders, glancing at him, waiting for him to secure himself.

He only nodded and held on as she took off, down the dark halls, up the stairs, through the halls. Surprisingly light on her feet, sword in hand, body tense and ready to fight at anything that might leap from the shadows. From his hand on her head, Rocket could feel the nerve tremors beneath her skin, hot to the touch. Her own cybernetics were damaged, the lines of facial enhancements in her cheek no longer seamless but broken and cut between flesh and metal.

Gamora rounded the corner, through another set of doors and out into the open.

Wh...where’s the...Benatar?

“HALT! By order of the Nova Corps, Subject 89P13, Gamora Daughter of Thanos you are under arrest for murdering an officer, lying under oath, and gross endangerment of your crew.”

Gamora let out a cough, chest heaving. She sheathed her sword. She reached up to him, Rocket expected her to throw him off, but she only pulled her hair back from her face.

“Gamora!”

Quill ran down the ramp of the Benatar,

“You got him! C’mon we gotta…..Nova’s here we have to…!”

Rocket couldn’t help but smirk, a pain twinging in his side as he laughed.

“Th...thank you..c...captain obvious.”

“Wow really?! The ONE time you acknowledge I’M  the captain you…”

“B...bigger problems here Quill!”

From his place on Gamora’s shoulder, he thought he heard her huff in satisfied agreement.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

#the body keeps the score fic #my writing #gotg #gotgfanfic #groot #baby groot #gamora #rocket raccoon #peter quill #starlord #drax #drax the destroyer #halfworld #rocket origins

[trashpandaorigins]

Chapters: 20/? Fandom: gotg, Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Starmora - Relationship, grocket, Gamora & Rocket Raccoon, Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Baby Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Gamora/Peter Quill, Gamora/Starlord, Drax the Destroyer & Gamora & Groot & Peter Quill & Rocket Raccoon, Gamora & Nebula Characters: Peter Quill, Starlord, Gamora, Drax, Drax the Destroyer, Groot, Baby Groot - Character, Rocket Raccoon, Nebula Additional Tags: Friendship, Team as Family, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Hugs, Angst, Adventure, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Abuse, Trauma, Healing, Gamora has a lot of shit to deal with, so does Rocket, Enemies to Friends, Pain, Cybernetics, Experimentation, Thanos is a dick, Torture, Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Platonic Love, platonic cuddles, Emotional Abuse, Love, Emotional Baggage, Suspense, Conflict of Interests, POV Gamora (Marvel), Protective Gamora (Marvel), Hurt Gamora (Marvel), Rocket Raccoon POV, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Medical Procedures, Gamora is a good mom to groot, Emotional Roller Coaster, co-parenting baby trees in space, Major character death - Freeform, whats your trauma, Emotionally Repressed, Repressed Memories, raccoons with anxiety, gamora is hurting, So Is Rocket, Fighting, Forgiveness, Best Friends, friendship fic, nebula - Freeform, lying, Making Sacrifices, Character Sacrifice, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Medical Trauma, rocket raccoon origins, gamora origins, Starmora Summary: "You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

#my writing #the body keeps the score fic #nebula #gamora #peter quill #drax the destroyer #rocket raccoon #baby groot #gotg #gotgfanfic #gamora &rocket raccoon

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Interlude: Groot

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

All creatures in the known galaxy perceive their surroundings through a variety of senses. Touch, sight, taste, sound and smell. Most creatures use all of these interchangeably but some are more dominant in certain creatures. Humans from terra typically use sight and hearing. Flora Colossus are unique in that their dominant sense is touch and a very heightened sense of touch at that. Through the complex network of millions and millions of roots the flora are able to sense the vibrations of things around them. Presently Groot could feel the tension in Drax’s body, muscles tight like a spring ready to go off.

“No one’s here,” the man who liked music looked around as they stepped off the ship. Away from comfort and safety. Toward this place of horror and tears. This place Groot had never been to and yet, he could feel it. Like the water that soaked into his pot, pulling him with the gravity of...of something.

“They’re probably hiding in one of the buildings,” the green lady answered, tight lipped.

Groot looked between them from his place in Drax’s bulky arms. This place wasn’t safe, it was dark and scary and...he could feel it’s hallowed ground. Smell iron and chemicals and the remanence of fires that were long since extinguished.

“I am Groot!”  

The green lady, Gamora glanced over at him and offered a sympathetic smile. Thus far, only she had been able to understand him. Her and the other one...what was its name? The furry one. Rocket.

“I know it’s scary Groot, but we have to get Rocket and we can’t leave you alone on the ship, it’s not safe.”

The little flora cocked his head, perplexed. The ship is safe, safer than this place.

The man...Peter? Peter patted his head playfully, Groot smacked it away.

“I AM Groot!”

They descended the ramp slowly, weapons out, peeking around cautiously. Ships were crumpled and in pieces, laying asunder across the vast docking area. Not one remained intact.

No breeze. Air heavy. No water, all dried up. No sunlight. Just haze.

Drax walked behind Gamora and beside Peter. Groot climbed up his arm and onto his shoulder. The man’s ears made good handles to hang on to.

“How long has this place been abandoned?” The tattooed man demanded.

It had been abandoned a long time, as far as Groot could tell. There was no smell of life. Only of death, of hurt. Lingering suffering.

“I am Groot!”

“Hush dumber Groot!” Drax shushed him forcefully. Groot twisted the man’s ear, giggling as he yelped. The tattooed alien attempted to swat him away but the little flora ignored it. He could not hush. There was something about this place...something that made his roots curl in restlessness and trepidation.

“I’m not detecting any survivors,” the human man glanced at his device warily.

“Let’s try the buildings,” Gamora reasoned. “They must be here somewhere.”

Drax lumbered forward, knives clutched in each hand. Groot looked around, letting out a small whimper as they crossed the threshold of the nearest squat stone building, into the dark halls stinking with rot. There were no living things in place anywhere. No warmth. The last thing that had been here had been in insurmountable pain. Quill held his remaining blaster out, his back against a peeling wall. If the flora had lungs, he would’ve held his breath. Instead he tried to stifle the sap coming to his eyes. This place was scary, it was unknown. No...not entirely unknown. Something somewhere deep inside his branches told him this place was familiar.

“I am Groot?!”

“No we’re not leaving, we have to find Rocket,” Peter admonished. He rounded the corner and aimed his blaster but let it drop.

Beside Drax, Groot could feel Gamora’s slight animosity towards their missing companion. Not hatred, but...profound disapproval and disappointment.

They turned the corner, nothing but a hallway of...corpses. Several people lying in contorted positions, their limbs all out of place. One woman lay on her back, a dried blood splatter staining the wall above her. Groot shivered, leaning in closer to Drax.

“They’re claw marks,” Peter crouched by the wall grazing his fingers over the three straight lines digging into the stone.

“I think I stepped in someone’s innards,” Drax commented, lifting his boot. Groot didn’t dare look, but scurried down his leg and over to Peter.

“Hey there bud, it’s alright. Stick close to me.” The man scooped him up with his free hand and Groot climbed on top of his head, growing little branches around his hair to get a better purchase.

Gamora stopped suddenly.

“Shhh...do you hear that?”

Groot glanced over at her, squirming with worry. Tears fully pressed against his eyes, leaking out and streaming down his face.

“I hear nothing,” Drax shouted. The woman shot him a glare. Peter’s eyes scanned the deserted hall, towards another set of stairs. They moved forward, this time quicker, Drax adjusted his grip on his blades, Gamora too took her sword out.

“I am Groot!”

“SHHHH!!!!”

They took to the dingy steps slowly, pausing to survey their surroundings with every stair. Groot could feel the terror now even more so than before. Finally, Peter stepped into the hallway, now underground, a pipe dripped liquid from somewhere they couldn’t see. Wires dangled from above. Groot glanced around, wincing at what he saw. To the right, windows. But no view of the outside world, rather they were windows into….cages. Rows and rows of cages each uniform and tiny. All of them are still occupied. By ghosts and bodies. Four of the animals were still upright, their little skeleton claws still clinging to the bars of the cage straining to get out. He let out a small sob. Peter’s hand rose up to cover his face and Groot sniffled. Wishing it did any good. It didn’t. The anguish, the pestilence as corrosive as the smell of chemicals.

“I heard it again,” Gamora halted as they came to the end of the hall. Looking right and left. Peter flipped on his scanner once more.

Beep, beep, beep.

“Life forms.”

Gamora strode forward, confidant as ever, not even bothering to pause before another turn in the hall. Down two more flights of stairs and endless twists and turns. They were getting deeper, Groot could feel it. Farther away from the ship, farther away from where it was safe. Deeper into this miserable hole.

“Rocket!”

Groot’s attention snapped back to the present, he blinked back tears. Down the hall, through a set of broken doors was Rocket...but he was...not himself. Anguish radiated from him and the other figure beside him. The team ran forward, he could feel Peter’s heart beating fast, his chest huffing with anxiety.

“Nebula!” Gamora thundered, “let him go! Our feud does not concern him!”

Groot let out a wail, struggling to let go but Peter easily held him back, trying as he might.

Wires extended from both the woman and the raccoonoid. Each of them trembling, sparks of white electricity leaping and sizzling off of flesh and fur.

Rocket looked up at them, red eyes burning and feverish. He blinked slowly, teetered, and crumpled.

“I am GROOOOT!!!”

The flora screeched and thwarted Peter’s hand away, he leapt down to the hard ground and charged forward.

He’d been here before. Or at least, another version of him had...and Groot was determined to get them out.

Get them all out.

Groot hauled himself up onto the metal table, collapsing against Rocket’s side.

Nothing….he felt nothing.

“I am Groot?”

Sparks singed his small hands and he jerked away with surprise.

“I am Groot? I am Groot?!” He tried again urgently, voice straining.

“Don’t….t….touch...h...him!”

The woman named Nebula tried to shove him but stopped, screaming and went rigid as another spout of electricity wracked her. Groot only tried to wake Rocket again. Yanking on his ears.

“I AM GROOT!”

Still nothing….the raccoonoid was still.

“Groot!” Someone cried.

There was nothing, no feeling, no breathing.

They were too late.

#the body keeps the score fic #my writing #groot #baby groot #drax #drax the destroyer #gamora #star lord #peter quill #gotg #Guardians of the Galaxy #gotgfanfic

[trashpandaorigins]

Chapters: 18/? Fandom: gotg, Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Starmora - Relationship, grocket, Gamora & Rocket Raccoon, Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Baby Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Gamora/Peter Quill, Gamora/Starlord, Drax the Destroyer & Gamora & Groot & Peter Quill & Rocket Raccoon, Gamora & Nebula Characters: Peter Quill, Starlord, Gamora, Drax, Drax the Destroyer, Groot, Baby Groot - Character, Rocket Raccoon, Nebula Additional Tags: Friendship, Team as Family, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Hugs, Angst, Adventure, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Abuse, Trauma, Healing, Gamora has a lot of shit to deal with, so does Rocket, Enemies to Friends, Pain, Cybernetics, Experimentation, Thanos is a dick, Torture, Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Platonic Love, platonic cuddles, Emotional Abuse, Love, Emotional Baggage, Suspense, Conflict of Interests, POV Gamora (Marvel), Protective Gamora (Marvel), Hurt Gamora (Marvel), Rocket Raccoon POV, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Medical Procedures, Gamora is a good mom to groot, Emotional Roller Coaster, co-parenting baby trees in space, Major character death - Freeform, whats your trauma, Emotionally Repressed, Repressed Memories, raccoons with anxiety, gamora is hurting, So Is Rocket, Fighting, Forgiveness, Best Friends, friendship fic, nebula - Freeform, lying, Making Sacrifices, Character Sacrifice, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Medical Trauma Summary: "You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

#the body keeps the score fic #my writing #nebula #rocket raccoon #gamora #gotg #guardians of the galaxy #gotgfanfic #peter quill #starlord #starmora #groot #baby groot #drax the destroyer #halfworld #rocket raccoon origins #gamora origins

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Ch. 18 Subjective Truths

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

Now let me see, it's you and me, forgive a good God

How do you suppose that we've survived?

Come on, that's right, left, right

Make light of all the heavier

'Cause you and I will be like a couple of cosmonauts

Except with way more gravity than when we started off

Oh, you and I will be like a couple of cosmonauts

Except with way more gravity than when we started off

Cosmonauts - Fiona Apple

“Nebula!” Gamora roared, voice charged with anger, “let him go! Our feud does not concern him!” Groot was already at the raccoonoid’s side, having taken advantage of the situation and darted past them.

“I am Groot! I am Groot!”

Peter lunged forward, face as determined as ever, barreling towards the little flora and scooping him up despite his wailing protests. Gamora charged forward, sword out reaching her sister in a moment.

“Gamora don’t…” she slammed the butt of her blade into Nebula’s forehead. She turned to Rocket and seized the large tube coming from the port in his back, twisting madly, grimacing through the electric hot charge of the circular port.

What did she do?!

Gamora worked the metal rim of the socket hard, trying to twist it out. The raccoonoid’s tail twitched.

“Don’t ….t..touch him, you’ll kill him,” Nebula growled behind her.

“What do you mean, agent of Thanos?” Drax thundered, he held a knife to her neck. Gamora glanced over her shoulder to her sibling, who rubbed her head with…. an arm.  A regular flesh and blood arm? The woman held her hands up, eyes sharp.

“More than you!”

Without waiting for permission Nebula reached behind her, grimacing as she rent loose the wire that was connecting her to the raccoonoid. It came loose with a click and a pop. Gamora watched her fingers twitch, she twisted her neck, eyes pinching shut for a moment. The cyborg woman looked at Drax with contempt, leaning forward towards Rocket and easily disconnected the tubing. Gamora flinched with jealousy she knew was petty.

“That’s enough,” the Destroyer growled, grabbing the woman by  the neck and pulling her backward. Nebula gasped and let out an enraged cry as he threw her backwards, off the metal table and crashing into a cart of medical instruments. Gamora spared a glance at Rocket, who still remained motionless. Peter was already on it, crouching over their smaller teammate with Groot.

“Rocket, Rocket man, wake up...haha get it? Rocket Man? That song by Elton John?”

“Peter…”

“Right. Sorry. Rocket! Damn it, wake up!”

Gamora strode over to Nebula who slowly picked herself up off the ground, stiff limbs moving one by one. She sucked in a breath between her teeth with each movement. Drax raised his arm to bring his knife down.

Gamora grabbed his wrist hard. Meeting his cold eyes. The destroyer pulled his lips into a fine line, then finally nodded.

“I was only momentarily dispatching her for you.”

He nodded curtly casting one last look at Nebula and went off to aid Peter.

“Always attacking,” Nebula whispered vehemently, leaning against the cart for support. “You never learn.”

She might be right...no. She’s trying to distract you so she can attack when you’re off guard.

Gamora lunged, swinging. Nebula dropped to the ground, rolled and kicked out towards her shins. The deadliest woman in the galaxy dodged, avoiding her sister and another cart full of …. bloodied instruments...Rockets...no...Nebula’s. Nebula’s blood is black. She’d seen it enough times to know. 

But wh…?

Something heavy collided with her stomach, air swung out of her with an agonized gasp. She stumbled back, against a counter, knocking vials and metal pinchers onto the floor.

“Gamora!”

The woman shook her head through the ring of her ears, trying to suck air back into her lungs. Nebula bounded forward, fists ready. Gamora spun away just in time, eyes darting about the room.

“Peter!” She called, trying to run at Nebula again, the blade hit true, hitting against her sister’s arm with a shunk. “How’s it going?”

“It’s..um…” Gamora grunted as Nebula shoved the blade away, gritting her teeth. Pushed with such a force, the weapon clattered against the floor.

“It’s okay...I mean...this place gives me the creeps…..”

“I meant Rocket!”

“Oh...he’s still comatose.”

“Stop fighting me!”

Nebula shouted, kicking outward. Gamora pivoted just in time, grasping for anything. Her fingers curled around a scalpel, grabbing it and stabbing furiously. Her sister curled strong fingers around her fists, trying to keep the instrument at arm's length. Gamora tensed, with a groan she shoved her against the wall,

“What’d you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Fury alighted Nebula’s dark eyes, her arms shaking with the effort. Gamora did not relent.

Subdue her. Beat her. This is just another fight. No it’s not. Thanos is not here. This is not a match. Fight her, stay alive. Fight her.

The voice in her head demanded. Thanos laughed at her from the dark pools of Nebula’s eyes. She leaned in closer, forcing the scalpel into her sister’s shoulder.

“I to...told yah...to disconnect the cables…..q..quickly.”

Rocket…..?

A hard knock hit against her temple. Gamora’s vision swam, she sliced her sword upward in the vague direction of Nebula’s steps.

“You never stop do you?!” She cried, Gamora watched Nebula’s knee come flying up in her direction, she tried to twist our of the way but her body was clumsy, cybernetics in her sides spasmed and crunched. The impact hit instantly, sending her reeling.

“Gamora!”

Peter?

“Will you stop for once? Just once?!” Nebula stood over her, seething. Gamora watched her reach up to her shoulder and gently slide the scalpel out of her shoulder. She threw it to the floor.

Get her! Now! You can hit her legs, knock them out from under her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Drax lumbered forward, his whole body tight like a spring ready to bolt. Peter clasped his shoulders, propelling him backward, urgently whispering something that was lost to Gamora.

“I didn’t come here to kill you,” Nebula rasped, almost patronizing.

“Then why did you? What did you do to Rocket?”

Gamora pressed a hand to her aching side. She could tell by the throbbing Nebula had damaged her internal paneling.

“...he was helping me.”

Rage crashed over her once more. This time there was no twinge of sadness or betrayal. The fiery fury sent her jumping upright. Something inside her wiring snapped and she gasped, tumbling down, undignified. It was her turn to catch herself on all fours. Through the veil of her hair she found the raccoonoid’s red eyes.

“You….” she breathed, “H...helped...her?!”

Her sister’s black boot stepped in front of her. Gamora grit her teeth against the anguish surging through her. She fingered at her belt for one of her smaller daggers.

Breathe...b...breathe...in...out...take down Nebula. Protect yourself. Get them out of here. Deal with Rocket.

“We made a deal,” Nebula grumbled.

Gamora shoved herself to her feet.

“G...Gams, I know this looks b...bad,” Rocket tried. She only looked at Nebula, furiously clutching her dagger.

This ends today. I’m not running anymore

She ran forward without the usual calculations. Arms going around her sisters waist as they both crashed to the floor.

“This….this is about what Thanos...d..did to you?” Gamora heaved for breath between grappling. She posed her dagger at Nebula’s neck, pinning her down.

“Everything Thanos did to me he did because of you!”

Nebula screeched, struggling under Gamora’s hold.

“Y….you could’ve let me win! Just once!”

“Gamora, let me silence this foul creature for you!”

“D...Drax don’t,” Rocket hissed.

“You shut your muzzle, rodent!”

Gamora ignored all of them, she leaned down wrapping her hands around Nebula’s throat.

“You kne...knew what he was doing to me...me and you did nothing!”

“Nebula, I…”

Her sister rolled, kicked and punched all in one swift move. Gamora let out a cry of surprise, throwing leaping up to grasp one of the blinding overhead lights. She hung and swung herself out kicking Nebula head on with the full force of her boots. Crashed to the ground but caught herself on one of the old surgery machines.

“You could’ve let me win….just once.”

She’s lying….no she’s not. You know she’s not. The only one who ever lied was Thanos...and Rocket. Her attention slid momentarily back to the raccoonoid who now stood upright but haunched, his red eyes narrow. He swatted Groot’s little hands away.

Gamora’s heart punched against her chest, the machinery in her side sparked and twinged with every step she took closer to her sword. She swiped it up and rushed at Nebula again.

“He wanted to drive us apart Nebula!”

She aimed to slice at her sister’s hip but she parried and pushed another cart full of vials between them, spilling out everywhere.

“He stoked hatred between us so we’d never go against him! We’re stronger than him!”

Nebula swung a punch, her knuckles colliding with Gamora’s blade.

“S...stop making this about him!”

The younger sister howled, trying again. Again Gamora intercepted, this time grabbing her wrist with her free hand and twisting it. Nebula cried out, kicking. Gamora winced but tightened her grip.

“You beat me constantly! You…” she coughed, “you let him torture me!”

Gamora’s stomach turned in knots,

You know she’s right. You knew. You always knew.

She lowered her blade, huffing for breath.

“He tortured me too Nebula. It never mattered which one of us won. He was cruel to all of us!”

Nebula glowered, staring loathsomely but looked away.

“It mattered to me!”

“Nebula...w….we were both abused! ….I I’m telling the truth!” Gamora thundered.

“So am I!”

“I was hurt too!”

“And yet I’m the one who risked coming to this hell hole and let some woodland beast do experimental surgery on my cybernetics.”

Gamora stepped closer, body shaking. She forced herself to sheathe her sword. Above them the white lights flickered.

“I did everything….everything I could to win his favor,” Nebula whispered. All the fight zapped from her, replaced with exhaustion.

I’m tired too...I’ve been tired...tired of running...tired of living in fear...tired of convincing myself I did the right thing.

“I thought, if I could win his favor...he’d stop hurting me.”

Gamora stood before her, arms out, ready to strike if needed. Her chest pinched when she breathed, sweat percolated against her skin even in the cold room.

“That’s why you told on us,” she realized. “Proxima and I...that’s why we were caught trying to escape.”

Nebula bit her lip, eyes searching the ground, blue and yellow liquid from the vials melding together in odd patterns.

Gamora waited for furious wrath to come and take her over. Anger at Nebula for ruining their escape plan ages ago. Anger at Thanos for everything else. But it didn’t come, only the weariness of her wounds continued to pang.

“What...did you do to Rocket?”

She asked, exasperated but maintained her stance. Nebula glared, baring her teeth.

“I didn’t do anything.”

She nearly killed him.

“Stop lying Nebula!”

Gamora charged her, punching. Lashed out, grabbed her shoulders, throwing her into the metal table. Drax, Groot, Peter and Rocket scrambled out of the way.

“Gams let me explain!”

“Another word out of you, and I’ll shove that tube back in your spine.”

For once in his life, as far as Gamora had known him, Rocket shut up. Nebula coughed, turning, her back to Gamora. Shoulders quaking as she tried to recover.

“I...t...told you, we...we had a d...deal.”

Gamora whipped her dagger out again, turning Nebula over roughly and pushing her against the cold slab. She reached for one of the metal restraints, wrapping it around her sister’s wrist.

“What deal?”

“Gamora,” Peter’s tentative voice cut through her anger. “Maybe we should….take her back to the ship.”

“I am Groot!”

“What. Deal. Nebula?”

The woman’s black eyes skirted towards Rocket. Gamora tightened her grip on the dager, pressing it into Nebula’s neck.

Her face... the cybernetics around her head...her eye...they’re...changed…? It’s just...flesh..faux flesh…. Gamora glanced at Nebula’s pinned arm. Only just realizing it was...normal. No metal or wiring in it at all. Just a ….regular blue hand...wrapped in a black glove.

She looked back at Rocket.

He did it. He changed her. In exchange for what? Units. Protection from the Nova Corps? Her aid in bringing me down. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her of that.

“I promised him I woul….”

“I am GROOO!”

BAM!

A flash.

“Groot!”

“Drax!”

Gamora whipped around, Drax lay on the metal floor, clutching his stomach.

“I...am G...groot!”

Groot prodded the burly man, tears leaking from his eyes. Gamora froze. Two figures illuminated in the flickering light of the unhinged double doors.

“Thank you Lady Gamora,”

That voice.

“We didn’t expect you to drop it off right here! Thank you for your generosity.”

Panic rose, climbing up from inside of her. Her cybernetics agitating her side and now extending through her nerves to her spine.

“Welcome home 89P13.”

#my writing #the body keeps the score fic #groot #gamora #rocket raccoon #nebula #drax the destroyer #baby groot #gotg #peter quill #star lord #rocket raccoon & gamora #gotgfanfic