Thank Odin that Dey's wife was a botanist; Drax had done well in calming Rocket down from his initial shock, but Peter was pretty sure the aftermath of Groot's death might have been the end of Rocket's too.

"It had been his ship that saved us," she cooed carefully over the comms to Dey, who'd rushed out of Nova HQ to find the wreckage and Peter's new band of misfits. "Dinna and I watched the newsfeed once we reached the shelter. When I saw the massive ball of vines drop from the Kree ship I had a feeling I knew what it was. If that man-woman's…?"

"Man," Dey corrected, as he hired as fast as he was able to get to the ruins. Now that Dey knew Rocket had saved his family, that they were alive thanks to him; if his wife called him up about plants, it meant only one thing.

She'd seen Groot plummet to the ground, same as everyone in Nova off the holoscreens. And she knew how to save his life in return.

"His name is Rocket," Dey huffed, "The one who saved you, I mean."

"Rocket, then. He's the maintenance mammal for that Groot?" Dey's wife asked.

Dey wasn't going to correct his wife about the relationship between "vehicular theft" Rocket and "guilty by proxy" Groot, and grunted to continue.

"He's sobbing," she continued. "I'm guessing he's never learned how to replant a Groot before; those two must have left their planet when they were very young."

Replant?

Dey stopped in his tracks. He wasn't going to middleman this. "I'm just... wait ten minutes and I'll put you on the comms with him yourself, ok?"

None of the newly-dubbed Guardians had much time to wash up when they were shuttled off to a makeshift medical tent. The Nova corps did, however, provide three courtesies to them:

•Ilyian Dey herself was allowed through the barricade to plant Groot.

•They did not separate the four of them.

•They did not tell Rocket that his doctor was a veterinarian.

Thankfully for both the individual Guardians and Nova alike, this led to an oddly sedate medical examination. For what was the first time in his life, Rocket actually sat still during a medical examination, and only barely flinched at the ointments and bandages on his wounds. Ration blocks were hastily passed around (the veterinarian discreetly breaking a pet treat into smaller chunks so it wasn't recognizable as such), a proper meal promised later in the evening, as well as lodging. Ilyian brought in a small stick in a pot to Rocket, who immediately curled up around it, hugging it like a child hugs their dolls or stuffed animals. When all was said and done, Drax simply lifted both of them to the suite on the bay where they would be staying until they could secure a ship.

Trust. Rocket put up no fight as both he and Groot were curled into his arms.

No one had slept since prison back in the Kyln, and even that had been oddly fitful at best, but the promise of food- good food, as the area they were placed just outside the capitol on the bay had been left untouched by Ronan and his goons- was alluring enough that the four of them simply slumped to the floor of the plushy, carpeted living room, trailing debris and woodchips.

Parts of Groot, was on everyone's mind, but no one dared say aloud.

Even Gamora made no comment at the mess they all made, and slid off her boots, cracking her feet. Peter pulled his knees into his chest and stared at the floor, Drax sat cross-legged, and Rocket pulled Groot close, waiting for the promised 'ping' of written instructions from Ilyian.

"Look," Peter said, finally breaking the silence. "I'm sorry to be a bit of a selfish prick right now…"

"How is that different from normal?" Rocket replied, almost (almost!) jovially with no bite to his tone. Peter laughed a short chuckle.

"I don't know about you all, as I'm the only Terran here, but I'm pretty sure I've pulled a muscle. Or ten. I could really use a massage."

Rocket noticed that Peter wasn't just pulling his knees to his chest; he was trying to stretch. Drax stood up, cracked his back thunderously, and spun on his heel to kneel behind Peter. One arm was at Peter's throat and another around his midsection in an instant, and if they hadn't known Drax personally, weapons would have surely been drawn. Drax grunted a little, and began contorting Peter's body in a way that looked to be painful for Terrans- but Peter just sighed and slumped into it.

"Good lord, Drax, at this rate, I'm just going to fall asleep, right here," Peter said, almost serenely, despite Drax's elbow pressed deep into his shoulder with Peter's head squashed against the carpet.

"Then I will make sure to bring you back some food from the banquet hall," Drax grunted, as he grabbed one of Peter's arms and pulled it straight into the air with an odd 'pop!'.

Gamora looked over Drax's methods once, and breathed a long breath. "If it is not too much trouble, Drax… would you be able to assit me as well?" she asked, almost meekly for her reputation.

Drax turned to face her. "A warrior's body must be maintained as well as their tools. I would be happy to assist as well."

Within fifteen minutes, Peter was snoring, drooling straight into the carpet, his limbs tangled in a weird fashion. Drax carefully straightened him out, while Rocket (smirking all the while), finally uncurled from Groot's pot to go find Peter a pillow and a blanket. Rocket returned, throwing the quilt over a dusty and drooling Peter, and shoving the pillow under his head, careful not to scratch Peter's face to add to the bandaged burns and injuries he'd already sustained. Drax already had Gamora in a strange contortion, relaxing into his arms for what may have been the first time in her life.

Trust. Drax could have easily snapped her spine for being a daughter of Thanos, willing or otherwise.

Despite Rocket's mental bet with himself, Gamora was down faster than Peter. She didn't get to sleep in the Kiln like he and Peter had- with the knifing and all- so he supposed it made sense. Drax sat back down next to Rocket, rocking back on his heels and looking down at the small white pot.

"We're going to have to get a few more sizes," he commented, quietly. "Groot will need to be moved into larger vessels as he grows for his root system to regain size."

Trust. That's why Rocket handed the small twig to Drax.

"He looks very good for now, though. Just don't over water him or else he might become infected or moldy." Drax and Rocket sat for a while; Rocket's tail slowly swishing. He had Groot's pot back, and could really, really use Groot's arms wrapped around him, nervously side-eyeing Drax trying to word how to ask for another scratch behind the ears without sounding like a whiny pet.

"…mph. Mom…" Peter began to moan. "Iiiiibe gotcha, kaaaaay?"

Rocket's fur stood on edge. Nightmares. Or night terrors? He wasn't sure.

"Father…" cried Gamora, softly.

Drax eyed them both carefully. "So that is what the Stone showed them."

"Showed 'em?" Rocket asked

"The moment Gamora grabbed ahold of Peter, I saw neither of them any more. In their place were Hovat and Kamaria. I knew it were not them standing there, but the Stone itself telling me I needed to join them. I assume Peter saw Gamora as his mother, and Gamora was shown her father in Peter's stead." Drax paused, and tentatively held a hand over Rocket's head. A nod and a squeak took the form of consent, and Drax absentmindedly pet Rocket's ears and forehead.

"Did you see Groot in me?" Drax asked, listening quietly to Gamora and Peter as their moans became less pronounced, drifting into a proper rest. " You grabbed my hand, after all."

"No…" Rocket replied, clutching Groot's pot tighter. "Either his death didn't sink in yet, or the Stone knew… knew he weren't dead at all…"

"Who did you see?"

Rocket's face turned downwards, and Drax's hand snagged on the hard collar of Rocket's dirty jumpsuit.

"Nothing changed," he mumbled. "I just saw all of you standin' there, barely holdin' on. I guess I didn't need any other reason."

"You do realize what that means, do you not?"

"That I'm selfish for bein' the last one willing to risk my life?"

"That you don't need to cling to the past to have a reason to fight, Rocket. The Stone didn't need to show you a vision. You didn't want to save someone long dead. You wanted to save us."

Rocket bore a set of very sharp canines. "Damn straight, twinkle toes."

"My feet do not… metaphor, yes?" Drax scooped Rocket and Groot up into his lap. Rocket pretended to protest, but appreciated the warmth emanating from Drax, his temporary personal heater. "I may not grasp the intricacies of veiled language as everyone else present in the room, but I am no imbecile. I will be happy to ease your tension if you need. I will have food brought to our room when everyone has reawaken instead of presenting myself at their party. I m in no shape to socialize, anyway."

Trust. That's why Rocket let him take Groot's pot to the windowsill and slowly work out the knots forming in Rocket's shoulders.