Archive of Our Own ^beta

Throwing out an arm and firing somewhat blindly in the middle of the chaos, the blast from Peter's gun clips the bald man on the forehead, the key promptly being ripped out from his temple and falling to the ground next to his body.

Peter desperately needed to get to that key but there were too many people in the way. Groot was closer to it than he was, so after shooting another person away from him, he shouted. “Groot!” His voice was just loud enough for the tree to look over at him while shooting off his own guns, using multiple branches to do so.

“The key!” Peter shouted, nodding his head in the general direction where the key lay. Groot looked over and his face set in determination as he began charging through the people in his way to get to it.

Reaching out a branch, Groot scooped up the key, holding it tightly and looking back at Peter for guidance as to what the hell is next now that they have the key that saves Rocket’s life.

“Jump!” Peter ordered, but Groot only furrowed what would be his eyebrows in concern. Peter swung out an arm, elbowing another person in the face when they got too close to him. “I’ll be right behind you!” he insisted. Groot still looked uncertain of the idea, but when Peter began running toward the large window, Groot did the same.

But just as they both jumped, Peter felt a net wrapping around him, pulsing with electricity and making him fall to the ground just a foot too short of the drop-off. He saw the split second that Groot had jumped, his eyes widening once he realized that Peter wouldn’t make it and he would.

He saw Groot's last-ditch effort to shoot out branches to catch and pull himself back up onto the ship but it was already too late, Groot had jumped and was plummeting back to the planet while Peter stayed behind, jolting and twitching under the electric shocks coursing through his body.

It felt neverending, the electricity coursing through him long enough for the edges of his vision to grow darker and darker, unconsciousness creeping up on him the longer his body shook and teeth grit together in agony. Through the pulses of electricity, he forced his limbs to unstiffen and move, crawling as best as he could closer to the ledge when suddenly a boot stomped down on his wrist, making him cry out in pain as the bones ground together painfully.

The electricity came to an abrupt stop, leaving Peter panting and his body limp, twitching ever so often from aftershocks. Through hazy vision, he looked up to see that bastard looking down at him, face twisted in sick pleasure as he glowered down at Peter.

“Your friend may have gotten the key to saving 89P13’s life. But now I have the key to get to them.” The man grinned as he lowered himself into a crouch next to Peter’s head. “You.” 

Peter growled in frustration and with heavy limbs he lashed out against the net only to fall back, his back arching and teeth gritting against the pulses of electricity. High Evolutionary watched him for a second longer, pleasure clear on his face as he watched him suffer. He had a remote in his hand, controlling the electricity.

Peter shook for a minute longer before he was slumping, half-conscious, and panting to regain his breath. High Evolutionary stood, towering above him and Peter hated the way his eyes took in every part of him, evaluating him.

“Take him to the holding cells until I figure out what I want to do with him,” he ordered and a second later he was being dragged away from the ledge by the net wrapped around him. He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as the skyline grew further and further away. That was all he remembered before unconsciousness took over and he found himself drifting off against his will.

When Peter wakes up he’s laying on a cold metal floor. His body aches and he can’t remember why. His eyes are heavy as he tries to open them, shifting over as he does. As he opens his eyes he can blurrily see the room he’s in.

He shifts so that he is on his side, pushing himself up as best as possible with his uncoordinated limbs. He blinks to clear his blurry vision and as he does, it dawns on him that it isn’t a room that he’s in, but a cell.

That’s enough for everything to come rushing back to him, and enough for fear to shoot through him with the realization that he hadn’t made it off of the ship. But with that fear, there’s relief when he remembers that Groot got the key to saving Rocket. He feels relief, knowing that Groot had gotten off of this hell ship and he’s probably back safely with the team and Rocket should be recovering now.

He shifts until he’s on his knees. Only then does he notice his change of clothes. Instead of the red and blue suit he had been wearing, he was now wearing a white t-shirt and pants. The thought of being stripped and changed while he was unconscious is enough to send an unpleasant shiver through his body.

He jumped when he heard a door slam, falling back onto his butt once again and he wouldn’t admit it but he pushed himself back a bit, further from the bars of the cell as he heard footsteps approaching.

“It’s about time you woke up. You should be grateful I let you sleep as long as you did,” he heard that familiar voice that he’d grown to hate. The sound of it was equivalent to nails on a chalkboard.

“That’s hardly something I should be grateful for,” Peter grumbled, glaring up at the man from where he sat on the cell floor. He thinks he should stand up so he doesn't look so pathetic but he’s not sure he can rely on his weak legs to keep him standing.

“Well, then be grateful that I haven’t killed you yet. And if you’d like to keep it that way, I’d suggest you watch your tongue, Terran .” High Evolutionary spat the word ‘Terran’ as if it had a bitter taste in his mouth.

Peter felt a snarky comeback on his lips but he bit his tongue to keep from saying it. He knew how crazy this guy was and if he was serious about killing him then he wouldn’t want to risk it. So he kept his lips sealed as he glared up at the man, hating the way his lips tugged up in satisfaction at his obedience.

“Got some kind of grudge with Terrans?” he said instead, raising a brow. High Evolutionary stepped closer to the bars, hands folded behind his back, a picture of superiority.

“No, not quite.” he started, eyes narrowed as he took Peter in, “As you know, I’m a perfectionist. And, well, humans are one of the universe's biggest mistakes, so many flaws, so much room for improvement.” He took another step closer, Peter could see as he stood under the light the way that his face stretched over his scalp.

“And while you are the key to get 89P13 back, I’ve never had a Terran subject before…” he said, tilting his head in consideration as his eyes raked over Peter's form, dissecting him with just his eyes. “I might just keep you.” he said, lips stretching into a sick grin. Peter felt his stomach turn as fear settled deep within his gut.

“They’ll find me.” Peter told him, jaw clenched and body tense.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Then I can have both you and subject 89P13 in my possession after I kill the rest.” he grinned and Peter found himself unable to come up with anything snarky or quick. He felt sick, but he wouldn’t show it. He would not let this psycho think he’s got the upper hand.

“I’ll make a perfect human of you yet.” was the last thing he said before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway, leaving Peter with a knot in his stomach and bile making its way up his throat.

This isn’t good.

When Rocket woke up, there had been many tears of relief and hugs. Gamora stood back as she watched the affection shared between friends. Drax, Nebula, Mantis, and Groot all crowded around the raccoon as they shared their tears and relief.

“Where’s Quill?” Rocket questioned once they pulled away, voice wet. Groot’s face twisted in anguish, a look that Rocket did not like one bit. Gamora stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression grim.

“Where is he?” Rocket repeated, looking at Groot who only wrung his hands nervously.

“High Evolutionary has him.” Gamora broke the silence, answering him bluntly, barely containing her anger. Rocket felt his heart drop into his stomach, an unpleasant feeling that he hadn’t felt since Lylla was killed in front of him. 

“What?!” he barked, eyes wide and panicked.

“I am Groot.” Groot finally said.

“He was captured?!” Rocket exclaimed and the heart monitor began to beep faster as he felt his heartbeat quicken. “We have to get him right fuckin’ now. You don’t understand, that guy is a psycho. ” Rocket expressed.

“We know,” Nebula said grimly. “We saw… what he did to you,” she told him. Any other time Rocket would’ve been embarrassed to know that they saw him like that. But it only fueled his panic even more.

“Right, so then you understand why exactly we need to get him back as soon as possible.” Rocket was already moving to get off of the table.

“We don’t know where he is,” Mantis interjected, her own expression twisted worriedly, worried that her brother may be suffering if he isn’t already dead.

“Send out a word then! Have any sightings of his ship reported to us immediately.” Rocket was already throwing around demands, not even giving himself a minute to recover from his near-death experience, too worried about Quill. Nebula nodded once before rushing over to the communicator and sending out the message.

“I am Groot!” Groot protested, the others following behind Rocket as he made his way to the cockpit.

“I’m fine, Groot. We can’t be wasting time here. If Quill is in that psycho’s hands then we only have a matter of time before it’s too late. He’ll tear Quill apart both physically and mentally until eventually he’ll grow tired of it and he’ll take Peter’s brain right from his body to run tests on it. I don’t have time to rest.” Rocket argued, not even turning to acknowledge his friend. He ignored the ache that coursed through his body, none of that was important right now.

“I’ll send word to my men too,” Gamora said before separating from the group to send her own message to the Ravagers. Rocket nodded and reached the cockpit, immediately taking his seat and setting a course.

“I assure you, we will find Peter. And I will kill the man who dared to hurt my friends the moment I get my hands on him.” Drax told him, face set in determination and anger as he took his own seat.

“Get in line, Buddy. I’ve ripped his face off once, I have no qualms with doing it again.” Rocket grunted, brows furrowed together and expression tight.

Peter couldn’t sleep, which was normal for anyone in his situation. It’s not exactly easy to let your guard down and rest after you’ve been told that you’re basically someone else's property to be experimented on whenever they please. He sat in the corner of the cell, his back pressed up against the wall and eyes glued on the hallway outside the bars.

He knows that he has to get out of here before the others come for him. He doesn’t doubt that his friends can hold their own but he doesn’t want to risk the chance of them falling into a trap and dying just because he couldn’t save himself.

It felt like hours that he sat on that cold cell floor, putting together 12% of an escape plan in his head. He doesn’t know the layout of the ship which means that even if he does get out of this stupid cell, he has no idea where the escape pods would be located.

He would find his suit because his communicator is with it but that’s exactly what he doesn’t want to do. He can’t lead the others right into a trap.

So he thought, and thought, and thought. But he couldn’t think past what he would do once he got out of the cell. The only thing he could do is get himself a weapon and run through the hallways, hoping to hell he finds the pods at some point. And while he knew that this plan would most likely get him killed, he would rather that than be some lab rat for a psychopath to do with as he pleases. He saw Rocket's file, he does not want to be subjected to torture such as that.

As he continued to brainstorm an escape plan, he was jolted from his thoughts when he heard the loud slam of the door down the hall. His body stiffened and he quickly pushed himself up to his feet, walking into the middle of the cell, fists clenched and prepared to fight.

He could hear multiple footsteps and a second later he saw four men round the corner, a smaller human-looking man wearing a lab coat carried keys that jangled in his hands while three larger guards followed behind him. The smaller man stopped in front of his cell door and inserted the key, twisting and unlocking it. The lock fell into the man's hand and he opened the door for the three larger men to step inside.

Peter tensed up, preparing for a fight.

The moment a rough hand landed on his shoulder, he was swinging, connecting his fist with the jaw of the scale-faced man. The two other men pounced on him but he fought against their hold, elbowing one in the stomach and curling his fingers into another’s hair, dragging his face down to meet his knee.

He was holding up pretty well until his entire body erupted in convulsions, the familiar harsh feeling of electricity shooting through him making him shake and collapse to the floor. He wondered how the hell he was being electrocuted, nobody was touching him and there was no net wrapped around him.

But as he shook, he could narrow the source of the electricity down to something in his neck. Some kind of implant digging into his skin that he hadn’t noticed until now.

He continued to shake for a moment longer before the electricity came to a stop, leaving him limp and weak. He continued to try and fight against the men's hands as they grabbed at him and pinned him to the ground.

He watched as the smaller man stepped into the cell, in his fingers was a syringe containing a clear liquid that he didn’t trust one bit. He yelled and struggled harder against the hands holding him down as the man approached him, kneeling next to his head and plunging the needle into his neck, injecting its contents into his bloodstream. 

The effects were instant, it was a sedation of some sort. He could feel the fight leaving his body but his consciousness was still intact. His limbs grew heavy and they dropped onto the floor, his eyes rolling as he was hit with a wave of dizziness, his head growing cloudy and heavy like his body.

Now, completely defenseless, he was lifted off of the ground. His arms were hooked with two others and he was dragged between two of the men out of the cell, his knees dragging against the dirty metal flooring and his head hanging low.

He couldn’t tell where he was being taken, the ground being the only thing that he could see. But he could tell whenever they turned a corner. Other than that, he was only aware that he was brought into a different room the moment he was being lifted and placed on a table.

He felt as if he were screaming in his head, unable to do so verbally, his tongue far too big and heavy in his mouth. He felt as his arms and legs were strapped down and it scared him even more that he could feel everything.

A bright light was shining down on him, making his eyes squint and water against the assault. Once his wrists, chest, forehead, legs, and hips were secured with straps, the hands left him and he felt completely vulnerable.

“Subject 98P75, blink once if you can hear me.” came that gut-churning voice.

Peter’s stomach did something horrible at being called subject, as if he weren’t a human being. Peter couldn’t help but blink, the bright light making it almost impossible to not blink. But High Evolutionary took that as a response from him anyway.

“Perfect. Now, let’s see if you feel this,” was all he heard before a sharp pain was shooting through his arm. He would’ve jolted and winced if he had any control over his body, but instead, all he could do was squint his eyes in response to the pain.

“Perfect…” There was a grin in his words. It was clear that he wanted Peter to feel the pain. “Now, this session won’t have anything to do with perfecting you as I need to know what I’m working with first. Today, we will be testing your pain receptors, healing factor, and nervous system.” High Evolutionary explained and Peter felt his fingers gripping his chin, turning his head this way and that way as much as he could with the strap holding his head in place. If he could, he would’ve pulled his chin out of his hands.

“I want to make sure you feel everything. ” the man grinned sadistically and as much as Peter hated it, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs.

For the next nearly four hours, Peter was completely helpless as he was poked, stabbed, burnt, and cut. First, he would feel the cold metal tool touch his skin, the pressure barely there before it was being dug into his skin, either puncturing his skin and being pushed deep into his body or just barely breaking skin. 

They would puncture him in three separate places of each part of his body, his arms, thighs, calves, stomach, chest, neck, and ankles. And every single place hurt just as bad, and if it didn’t get the reaction out of him that High Evolutionary wanted, he would grab the tool from the scientists and do it himself, digging it into his skin until tears would build up in Peter’s eyes against his will.

He would press the tip of a hot metal rod to his skin, covering his body in burn marks along with the puncture marks. A scalpel would be used to make small incisions all along his arms and legs.

The entire time, Peter was completely helpless against the pain. Tears were streaming down his cheeks silently and his body was surely covered in blood. The worst part was nearing the end of the session when the sedative began to wear off and the pain was all the more excruciating, much to High Evolutionary’s pleasure.

It got to the point where Peter was able to whine low in his throat. The first time he made the sound, he saw the look of absolute sadistic pleasure on the man's face. So he made an effort to keep silent, even through the worst of the pain.

It felt like forever before he was unstrapped from the table, dressed in his white clothes again which were ruined almost immediately by the blood caking his body. He was dragged back to his cell, his body thrumming in dull pain as the sedative took its time to wear off completely.

He grunted as he was thrown into his cell, landing on the metal ground roughly. He heard the door slam shut behind him and lock, and he just layed there.

He doesn’t know how long he stayed like that; cheek resting against the cool metal and body thrumming as the sedation left his body, making the pain all the more excruciating. 

By the time the sedation wore off completely, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He simply curled into a ball on his side, willing the pain to go away, to no luck.

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t give High Evolutionary the satisfaction. So he glared at the floor, jaw clenched, and body tense.

He didn’t sleep, he wouldn’t allow himself to, even with his body aching with the need to rest, to regain energy. He was too high-strung to allow himself to let his guard down. So he stayed awake.

It was nearly an hour later that he could finally move his limbs, the pain bearable enough for him to drag himself over to the door of the cell. He was hyper-aware that he had multiple open wounds on his body and the chance of infection was high if he continued to lay on the dirty floor.

So, he pulled himself up to his knees once he reached the cell door. With shaky fingers and a heavy arm, he reached through the bars and grabbed the lock pad, trying to figure out if there was any way that he could pick it. After being raised by Ravagers, he learned handy little things like lock picking, now would be a good time for it to come into use.

He inspected the lock as best as he could from this angle. There was a keyhole in the bottom of it so he looked around the room to see if there was anything he could use that would be thin and long enough to fit in.

But the cell was empty except for him so he huffed and dropped back onto his butt, wincing at the pain that shot through his body from the harsh movement.

He was tired now that his adrenaline was crashing, and he was almost certain it had been at least a day since he was captured, and he hadn’t slept for a while. From blood loss and shock, his body desperately needed the rest but his brain was screaming at him to stay awake and alert at all times.

Sighing, Peter crawled back over to the corner of the cell. He curled into a ball, head resting against the wall and eyes slipping shut easily. Despite what his brain was telling him, he needed the rest. If he got it now then he would be more prepared for an escape later.

“Rocket,” a voice called and the raccoon jumped, snapped out of his focus as he tinkered with another bomb in the making. He looked over his shoulder to see new Gamora standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she looked down at him.

“Hm,” he acknowledged.

“You’ve been staring at the same piece for nearly fifteen minutes now. You will be of no help if you are not well rested.” she pointed out, her voice accusing but not in a harsh manner, just enough for him to open his eyes and see that he was tired, he needed time to recover from his own near-death experience.

“Even if I did try to rest, my body won’t let me. Not while Quill is with him,” he shook his head, returning to putting together the pieces. Gamora’s sigh was quiet as she walked into the room, sitting down next to him on the floor.

“We’re all worried,”

“Don’t give me that bull, you don’t give a rats ass about Peter.” Rocket scoffed, keeping his eyes glued to the task in his hands.

“That isn’t true.” Gamora argued before sighing, “It was, but… I’ve seen a side of him that I hadn’t before. He was a mess when you were dying. They all were, and I didn’t get it at first because honestly, I thought you all hated each other, but now I see. And what I see is that you all care for each other deeply. You’re a family, and you’d go above and beyond to save one another. Which means that if you truly care about doing this right, you will make sure you’re in the right mind and condition to be doing a rescue mission.” Gamora told him.

“I do care, maybe not to the extent that you guys do but… I care because you care,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. This Gamora was all rough edges and violence, while their Gamora still had those rough edges but inside she was a lover, not a fighter. So it was strange to hear something that sounds so much like their Gamora, coming from this Gamora. He could almost pretend that she was their Gamora.

“What if someone reports a sighting,” Rocket argued weakly.

“You’ll be the first to know.” Gamora assured him. Rocket seemed to have an internal debate about whether or not he was going to give in to the exhaustion weighing his body down, or keep working until he collapses.

With a sigh, he set the bomb down and pushed himself to his feet, turning to level Gamora with a hard look.

“You swear on your life you’ll tell me if anything new comes up,” he said, stating more than asking. Gamora nodded.

“I swear,” she said. Rocket nodded once before walking past her and in the direction of his bunk. He tried not to feel guilty thinking about sleeping while Peter was probably suffering the same torture he’d endured. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the unpleasant thought. Gamora was right, he could risk fucking it all up if he isn’t 100% prepared and rested.

So, he walked into his bunk and climbed onto the bed, curling up and staring at the ceiling for a solid ten minutes before sleep began to drag him under, his eyelids heavy and body sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress until he fell into the abyss of unconsciousness.

Peter was jolted awake by the sound of his cell door creaking while it opened. The sound was enough to send him into a panic, his heart racing in his chest as his body tensed up, watching as the same three men came into the cell and approached him.

He was grabbed roughly, pulled to his feet, and dragged to the door. Peter struggled, he did not want to endure more torture. So he kicked and dragged his feet all while yelling and cursing. But the guards didn’t seem too affected by his struggles, his body having grown weaker after the stress it had been put under.

Peter tried digging his heels into the ground, slowing the travel from the cell back into that damn lab room. He coughed when a knee was suddenly slamming into his stomach, knocking the wind from him.

“Keep moving.” one of the guards grumbled as he continued to drag Peter down the hallway. 

Peter’s struggles proved to be useless as he was dragged the rest of the way down the hallway. They turned a corner and took the first room on the right. In the middle was the same table he’d been on what, hours, a day ago? His perception of time had completely left him, he had no idea if it had been a day, or only an hour since he was last in this room.

By the way his body ached less, he would assume that it had been closer to a day. He continued to kick and struggle as he was wrestled onto the table, his arms and legs pinned down first as the straps were secured around them.

He bent his knees as he bucked his hips and pulled at his wrists, trying to slip them through the straps. He was held down by strong hands while the others finished strapping him down.

He didn’t cease his struggling even after being strapped down, twisting and pulling at his wrists as much as possible, to no avail. The only thing he felt was the way the straps dug into his wrists, burning them from the friction.

“I hope you are aware that your struggling only entertains me further, 98P75.” High Evolutionary hummed as he walked over, his hands clasped behind his back. Peter, now that he could without a sedation running through his blood, glared at the man.

“You’re a sick bastard,” he spat. High Evolutionary only ignored him as he approached, his eyes raking his bloodied clothes.

“Lucky for you, this session is only a check-up. To see where your healing factor has taken you in the past day.” he hummed, mostly to himself as he trailed his finger across the bindings around Peter’s right wrist. He grit his teeth and tensed against the restraints when the man's fingers slid under his sleeve before pulling it up to expose the healing wounds from yesterday.

“Hm, Terrans have a petty healing factor, that much I already knew but I guess I expected different from you considering you’re half celestial being.” The man noted. He noticed the way Peter’s brows pinched together at the mention of his other half.

“Ah yes, I know of your heritage, P75. Hard not to when you hear of a seemingly ordinary human man holding the power of an infinity stone in his hand and surviving its power.” He told him, “Although it still doesn’t answer my question as to how that half of you doesn’t improve your healing factor,” he frowned. Peter stared at him.

“If you expect me to tell you jack shit then you have another thing coming, buddy.” Peter raised a brow. He was not about to jump into the explanation of how he lost his celestial side of him when they killed his father.

“The snark will only get yourself into more trouble, P75.” High Evolutionary tsked before he moved his hands down to his pant legs, lifting them as best as possible under the straps to inspect the wounds there as well.

Peter bit his tongue and refrained from lashing out against the restraints as he felt himself being poked and prodded.

He bit back a cry when a tool was being dug into one of his healing wounds, prodding around and inspecting him. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the pain.

“It seems the burns are healing quicker than the cuts and punctures. Very interesting.” High Evolutionary hummed. Peter glowered at him as he continued to wriggle his wrists against the straps.

Suddenly, a hand was gripping his jaw, turning his head to the side. He understands now why they decided to forgo the forehead strap.

Peter yanked his chin from his grasp in an act of defiance but he was only grabbed again, harsher this time, enough for the fingers digging into the skin of his jaw to bruise.

A bright pen light was shined into his eyes as his face was held in place. He closed his eyes to block it out but he felt them being pried right back open by another set of hands. High Evolutionary hummed as he checked his pupils.

He suddenly pulled away, clicking the penlight off as he dropped it back on the tray next to the table. Peter eyed the tray, there was a file and inside many papers held together by a paper clip.

“Take subject 98P75 back to his cell. We will continue our sessions tomorrow after his next check-up.” High Evolutionary ordered and hands were quickly undoing the straps holding him down.

Peter’s fists clenched, preparing himself so the moment the straps were removed from him he was sitting up quickly, punching one of the men hard enough to send him staggering back.

He quickly reached over to the table, slipping the paper clip into his sleeve before grabbing the sharpest tool he could reach.

Just as more hands moved to grab him, he lashed out, swinging the tool and burying it into the person's shoulder, making them cry out and stagger back, holding where the tool had punctured. Doesn’t feel so good, does it?

Another pair of hands were trying to grab him and he didn’t hesitate before leaning down and biting down on the fingers closest to his mouth.

He didn’t have any time to react when he felt something sharp piercing his neck, it only took him a second to realize it was a needle, and a sedative was being injected. He was getting tired of being involuntarily sedated.

Almost instantly, his body went limp and he fell back onto the table, the tool falling from his slack fingers. High Evolutionary had watched the whole scene play out from the other end of the room. He stepped forward, the expression on his face one of anger and amusement.

“I didn’t think it would come down to this but you leave me no choice,” he sighed as he pulled out something from his pocket. The device unfolded as he held it up, it was a collar. One of his men took the collar from him and walked over to Peter, securing it around his neck.

“If you want to act like an animal, then you shall be treated as one.” He said. Peter could feel the cool metal against his neck, heavy and suffocating. “The collar has many different qualities. It can inject a sedative the moment I press the button and it can electrocute you, although I must say it is far more painful than the one already embedded in your neck, so I would advise against doing anything to warrant me using it.” 

Peter couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. High Evolutionary waved a hand to his men and Peter was being lifted off of the table.

His eyes were yet again trained on the ground as he was dragged from the room back to his cell where he was unceremoniously thrown inside, his head smacking off of the metal ground.

He heard the lock clicking shut as the door was closed as well as the footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

His limbs were heavy and uncoordinated but Peter was able to sluggishly fish the paper clip from his sleeve. He couldn’t do anything about his escape now, with the sedation keeping him weak.

So, he slid the paper clip to the closest corner of the room, hiding it in the shadows for later. For now, he couldn’t fight it as his eyes closed against his will, dragging him under.

One thing Peter learned is that the sedatives are strong. The dose was enough to knock him out for nearly twelve hours, plus the exhaustion he felt from the torture, he felt like he could sleep forever, that is until his cell door is being opened and he’s being dragged from it.

This time, Peter wasn’t cut into and burnt. High Evolutionary did his check-up on him, checking his healing progress before he was sent to another room. A room that he hadn’t yet seen. In the center of the room was a treadmill-like machine.

It was much like a hamster wheel. Peter was dragged over to it, forced to step onto it. For the next two hours, he was forced to run on it without a single break. High Evolutionary wanted to see how long he could go before his body gave out.

Peter tried stopping, but whenever he tried, High Evolutionary would flash the remote to his collar in warning and Peter would force himself to keep going. He preferred this over being dissected and electrocuted. 

So he ran, and ran, and ran until he was drenched with sweat and his knees were buckling with each step. It was only when he finally collapsed onto his hands and knees, panting as he let his head hang between his shoulders– that the wheel came to a stop. The woman standing next to High Evolutionary had a clipboard and she seemed to be taking notes, making him feel all the more like a lab rat.

Hands were grabbing him, pulling him off of the wheel and dragging him out. He tried to get his legs under him but they felt like noodles, far too weak to hold his weight. He was carried down a different corridor and brought into another room he hadn’t seen yet. How exciting, I’m getting a tour of my prison. 

He was tossed into the small room. He caught himself on the concrete flooring, noticing a drain in the center of the room and how the floor was slightly slanted. Hands were on him suddenly, pulling at his clothes.

He kicked and fought while he was stripped down to nothing. Once his clothes were taken from him, he stayed curled up, glaring up at the guards. A hose was hanging on the wall next to the door and one of the guards grabbed it, twisting the knob and a burst of freezing water shot out, hitting Peter hard.

He felt as if he were being waterboarded as he was sprayed down. His wounds ached at the rough treatment and he watched as the water turned red as it disappeared down the drain. He felt as if the pressure of the water was bruising his body even more and he attempted to curl further into himself.

When the water suddenly disappeared, he felt like he could finally breathe. The guards didn’t give him longer than a second to recover before they were grabbing him and dragging him back to his cell.

As he was thrown inside, a new set of clothes were thrown at him. He caught them and was quick to cover himself as they locked the door and left. It was a long process, pulling the clothes on with his body as sore and weak as it was.

He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right then and there, but he thought back to when he was running on the wheel. He had overheard High Evolutionary talking with the woman, discussing what he planned on doing with him in the next session. Peter wasn’t about to just wait around until he was dragged back and strapped down to that table again.

He crawled over to the corner of the cell where he had hid the paper clip. His hands searched blindly for a moment before he felt it. He quickly grabbed it and began to straighten out the metal. Once he unbent the flimsy metal, he crawled over to the cell door and reached through, grabbing ahold of the lock.

With a sense of urgency, he pushed the metal into the key insertion, listening closely as he jimmied it around, repeatedly adjusting it until he heard the telltale click of it coming undone. He silently thanked Yondu for teaching him how to pick locks in case he ever found himself kidnapped as a young kid new to space.

He yanked the lock off of the latch and pushed the cell door open, his heart pounding in his chest with adrenaline. He believed that the adrenaline was the only thing keeping his legs working to hold his weight, as wobbly as they were.

He stepped out of the cell and took in his options, there was the hall to the right which is where he’s always taken, or the left. He made his way down the left hall. At the end was the door he always heard opening and shutting. It was open and outside of it were stairs that led up. Peter made his way out, climbing the stairs with slightly wobbly legs, once he got to the top he could see that the entire corridor ahead of him was empty. At the very end, you could either turn left or right but as Peter approached, he could hear footsteps approaching down the hallway to the left.

Leaning against the wall, he held his breath as the footsteps got closer. The moment they were right about to turn the corner. Peter jumped out and before the guard could defend himself, Peter was throwing a bunch, stunning him. 

Usually, his first punch would be enough to knock someone out but with most of his strength gone, it took two solid punches before the man crumpled to the ground at his feet.

Peter crouched down, quickly stripping the guard of his suit. He couldn’t be running around wearing prisoner clothing or people would immediately know when they saw him. So he quickly dressed in the black suit, some areas looser or tighter on him but people wouldn’t be looking that closely. He grabbed the stun gun from his hands last before standing back up and continuing his way down the corridor, turning left. He had no idea where he was going, he just hoped to hell he could find a pod and get the hell out of here.

As he went further, he could hear more activity. People talking, boots thudding against the ground as groups of guards did their rounds. Peter slowed as he turned the corner, gun at the ready. Around the corner was a large room with guards, scientists, engineers, etc, all walking around or sitting at the tables. It looked like a cafeteria.

Across the room, he could very faintly make out a sign that read ‘EMERGENCY PODS’ with an arrow pointing down a corridor. Perfect, now how the hell am I gonna get over there without risking being spotted?

He sucked in a preparing breath. The only way is through. He waited until his path got fairly busy, meaning he could blend in easier. The collar on his neck would be an obvious giveaway but if he was quick enough, the less likely someone is to notice him.

He counted down in his head before he finally stepped out into the room, suddenly feeling exposed and as if every eye was on him. But as he looked around, he was able to see that nobody was looking at him.

He marched with purpose, his grip on the gun tightening as he got closer and closer to the corridor. The room felt much larger than it looked as he walked across the expanse of it, holding his breath the entire time and trying not to look freaked the fuck out.

But as he finally stepped into the corridor without anyone stopping him, he felt the air leave his lungs in one huff of relief. It didn’t last long though, as he suddenly turned the corner and was met face-to-face with two other guards who immediately paused, their eyes noticing the collar around his neck.

“Shit,” Peter muttered before quickly raising the stun gun and shooting the first guard, sending the man to the ground, shaking and twitching just as Peter had done the past nearly three days that he’s been in this shit hole.

He quickly used the butt of his gun to knock the other guard out. But with this, it drew a lot of unwanted attention from the cafeteria as people heard the gunshot and guards were rushing over to investigate the sound. Peter cursed and broke out into a run down the hallway, heart racing in his chest.

He could hear the boots of guards thumping closely behind and he pushed himself to run faster, despite his legs threatening to give out. He turned corners and curved hallways. He was so close, all he needed to do was hop into an escape pod and seal the door and he’ll be out of this hell hole and back with the others.

But as he turned another corner, his heart sank into his stomach as he came face to face with High Evolutionary, the pods could be spotted behind him. He didn’t have any time to react before High Evolutionary was raising his hand and with a swipe in the air, Peter was flying against the wall, crumpling to the ground. The guards who had been chasing him stopped a few feet away from them.

The gun had fallen next to his head and as a last ditch effort, he reached out to grab it, only to feel the invisible grip of a hand around his neck, lifting him and pinning him against the wall, his feet kicking as they tried to make contact with the ground. He raised his hands to claw at the invisible grip around his throat, only managing to scratch at the metal collar.

He realized quickly that it was High Evolutionary using his telekinetic powers.

“I liked to think you were smarter than this P75. I am thoroughly disappointed.” the man tsked.

“Fuck… you,” Peter choked, hands continuing to scratch at his own neck, he could feel his face turning red from lack of oxygen. Suddenly, he was dropped to the ground. He heaved and coughed, trying to pull himself back up.

“Bring him to the lab,” he could hear High Evolutionary demand. He lashed out as hands grabbed him, picking him up off of the ground. He kicked and struggled the entire way back to the basement of the ship, eyes watched him as he was dragged through the cafeteria. He’d been so close, his ticket to freedom had been a mere few feet away and he blew it.

As they got into the basement, instead of being thrown into his cell like he expected to be, they dragged him past the cell and down the hallway. Panic gripped his heart as he realized that whatever awaited him wasn’t gonna be good.

A knee was dug into his stomach for his struggles as they continued to drag him down the hall and to the room that he dreaded. He grit his teeth and squirmed as he was lifted onto the table, the straps being secured over his limbs.

A tray was rolled over as he was secured onto the table. He couldn’t see what was on it very well with his head strapped into place, but he knew that whatever was on it, he wouldn’t like either way. He could hear the telltale footsteps that he had learned to recognize as High Evolutionaries'.

“Apparently time will not be enough to correct your behavior. It’s true what they say about Terrans having thick skulls. You just can’t seem to get it,” High Evolutionary said as he walked around the table until he was standing over Peter. “I own you 98P75. You will never leave here, can’t you understand that?”

Peter only glared. He gave High Evolutionary a piece of his mind by spitting in his face, the man flinching and grimacing in disgust as he wiped the spit from his skin.

“You make it very difficult to feel sorry for what I have to do to you,” he said before stepping back and allowing someone else to step forward. Before Peter could shoot back that he was a sociopath who felt nothing for anybody, he could feel a wet rag being pulled over his face, making him inhale and choke on the water involuntarily as the rag was held roughly over his face.

Suddenly he heard the crackling of electricity, that being the only warning before he could feel two rods being pressed to his temples through the wet rag. A scream tore from his throat as the rods crackled with electricity, sending shockwaves through his body and feeling as if it were frying his brain. 

He screamed and shook as he both felt and could smell the skin of his temples burning. He was in so much pain that he couldn’t think, his brain unable to think of anything other than pain pain pain stop please pain stop! as he strained against his straps.

As the rods were pulled away, Peter slumped against the table, gasping and twitching. It was only a second later that the rods were being pressed back against his temples once again, his throat feeling as if it were being torn apart from the force of his screams.

He was unaware that he would suffer this torture for the next hour.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Rocket snarled at Gamora from across the room. “It has been three days and we ain't found out jack shit about Quill’s whereabouts. We’ll be lucky if he’s even alive by the time we do find him. So do not tell me to calm down!” he shouted, throwing a piece he’d been tinkering with at the wall, creating a small indent where it connected with the ship wall.

“Quill will be fine. He is strong, for a Terran.” Drax added, but Rocket could sense his uncertainty. Rocket has made it very clear to everyone that there is a high chance that if they find Peter, it won’t be him they’ll be finding, but his corpse. 

“There must be something else we can do,” Mantis said, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Well if you’ve got any genius ideas then be my guest.” Rocket grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “If there was anything else we could do then you know damn well we would be doing it, wouldn’t we?” Rocket glared, and he knew that he was being harsh. Mantis didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his anger but he was really struggling knowing just who exactly has Peter.

“There is one thing…” Nebula spoke up from where she was leaning against the wall, a shadow. All heads turned to look at her, eyes hopeful but hers were hesitant.

“Well?” Rocket urged, fighting to keep the hope from his own voice.

“One of the nights that Peter was drunk he mentioned that Yondu implanted a tracker in him when he was first taken from Earth in case he ever got lost or stolen. I would be shocked if it still worked but it’s the only other chance we have.” She told them, there was silence, as if they were too scared to break it.

“Yeah, that would be great but what about the other problem with that story? Yondu’s dead, he ain’t gonna be able to help us.” Rocket reminded. Nebula nodded.

“No, but Kraglin can.” she said, “it’s a shot in the dark, but a shot nonetheless. Trying it wouldn’t hurt.” she shrugged.

“Well? What are we waiting for?” Drax broke the tense silence.

“This better work,” Rocket sighed, “Nebs, set a course for Knowhere.”

Peter had passed out at one point. There’s a point where the pain becomes too much, consuming you, pushing you to the point of unconsciousness because the body can’t handle being awake for it any longer.

He isn’t sure if they stopped after he lost consciousness, but all he knows is that it sure as hell feels as if they kept going if the pounding in his skull has anything to say about it.

The next thing he noticed after waking up, besides the pain in his head, was that he could barely move, and this time it wasn’t because he was sedated, but because he could feel four walls caging him in, literally.

As he opened his eyes and blinked away the black spots, he took in his surroundings to see that he had been curled up and shoved into a small cage.

His neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle, unable to sit up in the small space. He couldn’t straighten his legs and he could barely hold his arms out without them punching the bars around him.

In front of him, he could see that the lock holding the door shut needed a keycard in order to be opened. He figured that his failed escape attempt was the reason for his new prison; there was no way he could pick this lock.

Peter shifted to try and get more comfortable in the cage, biting back a whimper at the ache deep in his bones and brain.

He reached up to touch his temples, wincing and pulling his fingers away the moment they made contact with the burnt skin there. His skin was blistered and bleeding from the burns, which explained the sting he could feel too.

His jaw ached from being clenched for so long and his muscles were sore and loose. He shifted until he found a somewhat comfortable position. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his chin was resting on them. He could feel the ceiling of the cage touching his hair.

He was suddenly overcome with the urge to cry, his throat forming that familiar lump and his eyes stinging, but he willed himself not to cry, even though a few stubborn tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks silently.

He had been so close. He would’ve preferred them catching him the moment he stepped out of his cell over being caught so close to his ticket to freedom, that way he wouldn’t have had his hopes crushed.

He’d been changed back into the white prisoner clothes, dirty from being dragged and crammed in the small messy cage. The smell of burning flesh was still fresh in his mind, the sound of his own screams echoing.

He knew that if the others were to show up here they’d only be falling into the trap. But Peter found a part of him begging them to come find him. And God, he felt pathetic breaking so soon. If Rocket had been experimented on for years by this psychopath and Peter couldn’t even handle three days then that really says how weak he is. 

He isn’t going to give up, but god, he’s so close to breaking completely. He knows that he has to keep fighting, no matter how tired he is.

As Peter sits there and thinks, he can faintly hear the sounds of animals around him. He was in a room full of other caged animals, he could hear them rustling around in their cages and their whines and whimpers. Now he was just another caged animal to add to the collection.

Suddenly he could hear a door slamming open and his head shot up, smacking off of the top of the cage and making him grunt in pain.

He knew it was High Evolutionary based on the footstep pattern he’d learned. There were two other pairs of footsteps following and he peered through the bars to see High Evolutionary approaching his cage.

It was all the more dehumanizing as he glared up at him through the bars, feeling powerless.

“I see you’re awake now,” the man said.

“No shit,” Peter grumbled, feeling a flash of fear the moment the snarky comment left his lips. His voice was hoarse from screaming and he was in desperate need of water. He hadn’t eaten or drank anything for three days. The pit in his stomach grew more and more.

“Hm,” High Evolutionary hummed before nodding to the guards standing on either side of him. They moved forward, one of them crouching down and swiping the keycard. There was a click and the door was opened.

Peter tried pushing himself further back but a hand buried into his curls and pulled, making him cry out as he was dragged out of the cage by his hair.

Once out of the cage, he was lifted by his arms and High Evolutionary led them into the hallway. Peter couldn’t even find it in him to struggle, everything hurt and he could barely think over the pounding in his skull.

He was brought into the room he’d grown to hate and dragged over to the table, his limbs strapped down.

His brain felt fuzzy and he knew it was from both lack of nutrition and the torture his brain had been subjected to. He barely even realized when a needle was being inserted into the bend of his elbow and being taped down, a tube leading from it and into a bag hanging from a pole.

“We need to collect some of your blood for tests,” High Evolutionary said, standing over Peter, looking down at him. “I do hope you understand the severity of your actions now P75. If you continue to refuse to cooperate, it will only make matters worse.” He told him and Peter looked up at him through tilting vision.

He could feel the needle taking the blood from his body which didn’t help with his nausea. He couldn’t even find it in himself to respond, he only looked away from High Evolutionary, lips pressed together tightly.

“That’s what I like to see, P75. You keep up the good behavior and you may find yourself rewarded for it,” the man said, pleased. Peter stayed silent, the light above him burning his eyes. He doesn’t know if it’s the exhaustion or the blood loss that knocks him out.

It takes them nearly 12 hours to get to Knowhere which means 12 more hours that Peter has been captive. Rocket tries not to blow up every single time one of the others try talking to him. He knows this isn’t their fault, and he couldn’t be more grateful for them saving his life and going through what they did to do it. But he’s fuckin’ terrified for Peter.

Because he’s been in his position before, he knows just how damaging it is both mentally and physically. He hopes that Peter can fight the urge to break because he knows just how strong that urge is.

He also knows damn well that the chances of Peter being alive by the time they find the ship is very slim. If not dead, he’ll be in critical condition, especially if High Evolutionary wanted to hurt him by making sure Peter suffers.

They enter Knowhere, flying the ship to the landing pads. He could see Kraglin sitting at a table surrounded by others playing a card game. Kraglin looked up once he noticed their ship and he stood quickly as he spotted Rocket piloting it.

Once landed, Rocket lowered the ramp and he and the others were quick to walk down it, meeting Kraglin once outside.

“Rocket,” Kraglin nodded. Rocket nodded in acknowledgment.

“We need your help,” Mantis spoke and Kraglin looked at her, shock evident on his face that they needed his help.

“Yeah, sure. Wait- where’s Pete?” he asked after looking at the others and noticing one missing Terran. He didn’t like the look that the others gave him at the question.

“That’s why we need your help,” Nebula spoke up, crossing her arms. “Peter is being held captive by the enemy but we don’t know where he is. I recall Peter mentioning that Yondu had chipped him when he was a kid, you know anything about that?” she questioned, and if anyone knew her like they did, they would be able to recognize the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Yeah, I was the one that had to hold him down while Yondu did it, kid was terrified. Yondu gave me a tracker too in case he ever lost his for Peter. Is that what you need my help with?” He nodded, expression pinched in stress.

“I am Groot?” Groot piped up, Kraglin shrugged.

“I haven’t used it in a while so I’m not sure if it still works, I don’t see why it wouldn’t unless Peter removed it himself. Follow me,” he said and turned on his heel, heading toward his bunker while the others were quick to follow behind him.

“Yondu didn’t like using it too often unless it was for something really important. Peter stole from us many times and so finding him without the tracker kinda became easy, we didn’t want to risk overusing the tracker and breaking it for something as small as him owing us. It was for more of an emergency use type’a thing.” Kraglin explained as they stepped into his bunker, heading to his room and pulling open a drawer, Kraglin grabbed a small device, the screen blank, he chewed the inside of his cheek nervously before turning to the others.

“Do you guys think he’s still alive?”

“He is alive,” Mantis suddenly said and everyone swiveled around to look at her, she was wincing slightly as if in pain, hands held in front of her stomach and shoulders slouched slightly, antennas glowing softly.

“How do you know?” Gamora questioned, brows furrowed.

“I can feel him,” Mantis told her, “he is in great pain, but alive.” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell us that earlier?” Drax asked, reading Rocket’s mind. Knowing that information would’ve helped a great deal in calming him down.

“I did not want to get everyone’s hopes up by telling you he is alive, only to stop feeling him and then having to tell you he has died. But now that we have a chance at finding him, I figured now would be a good time to tell you,” she explained, “but I can feel that he is dying, he is suffering.” she sniffled, eyes prickling with tears. Drax reached out and touched her bare shoulder, trying to send contentment to her, to take the pain that she was feeling from Peter away.

“Shit,” Rocket murmured under his breath. “So? Does that thing work?” he spoke louder this time, pointing to the device in Kraglins hand.

“I guess we’ll have to see,” he dragged in a deep breath, preparing and hoping to hell that Peter hadn’t removed the chip like a dumbass when it had been put there for his safety, for situations like this. 

Everyone watched intently, leaning forward to watch the screen of the device as Kraglin turned a knob on it and clicked a few other buttons. The device made a trilling sound as it loaded up the data, leaving everyone on edge as they watched, breaths held in anticipation.

Suddenly, the device beeped and everyone slumped, stomachs twisting at the big red letters that read ‘ERROR’ appearing on the screen.

“Damn it,” Gamora breathed, stepping away.

“Wait,” Kraglin held up a finger and everyone stood a little taller. Kraglin read something off of the screen, eyes brightening just slightly. “I have his coordinates as of two days ago,” he said suddenly and everyone released their held breaths.

“Bastard must’ve been experimenting on Quill and found the tracker. But that works, it’s a big ship, it couldn’t have moved too far from that point. Let’s go. Gamora, send the coordinates to your Ravagers and have them scope the area and report any sightings of the ship.” Rocket was quick to order, already moving to head back to the ship. Kraglin followed, tracker gripped in his hand like a lifeline.

As they got back to the ship, the others climbed up the ramp but Kraglin stopped Rocket.

“Take this,” he said, holding out the tracker. “We’ll follow behind you.” he nodded and Rocket took the tracker from his hand, nodding in return before turning and boarding the ship.

Time was an unknown concept to Peter since his failed escape attempt. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, he doesn’t know how long he’s slept in between each session, and he doesn’t remember most of the sessions.

He thinks that maybe he’s being pumped with a sedative that keeps his head fuzzy and body pliant. He hasn’t fought. Anytime he’s pulled out of the cage he doesn’t struggle, he just lets himself be dragged to the room where he would undergo another session.

Maybe it's the blood loss, maybe it’s the drugs, he doesn’t know. But he’s far too weak to fight against the poking and prodding being done to him anymore. Maybe his body is shutting down from lack of water and food, maybe it’s shutting down from the blood being drained from him. All he knows is that he hasn’t felt fully awake since he tried escaping, like he’s living some weird fever dream with lots of time skips.

The pain is still there, he feels every bit of it but he can’t do anything to stop it. He’s learned that if he fights he’ll only suffer the consequences which are a lot more painful than just doing as they say.

They’ve taken to making small incisions on certain parts of his body, taking samples from his insides before stitching him back up, pushing him to his body’s limits, taking blood, experiments, etc. He feels everything. But he can’t find the strength in him to fight anymore.

Peter could hear footsteps coming down the hallway and he raised his eyes to watch as High Evolutionary came to a stop a couple of feet away from the cage he was in. He only had one guard standing by his side this time, and he watched as they stepped forward, swiping the keycard and opening the door.

“Good Evening, P75.” High Evolutionary greeted. Peter was pulled out of the cage by his arm, being pulled up to his feet. He didn’t answer, he never did anymore. He can’t remember the last time he spoke and he’s certain that if he did, his voice would crack from lack of use. He frowned when he was turned to face the guard, feeling as metal cuffs were secured around his wrists, they never used cuffs on him. “We’re gonna do something different tonight. Walk with me,” he gave what he thought was a smile before turning his back to Peter.

Peter followed behind him, his legs threatening to give out under his weight but the hand gripping his bicep was enough to keep him moving. He watched as they walked down a different corridor, one he’s never been down before.

He didn’t know if he liked that it would be something different. He hated the sessions and he couldn’t imagine that they could get worse than they already were and he had learned to never give his hopes up. High Evolutionary could be leading him to his death right now. He wasn’t about to get all excited just because it was a change of scenery.

Climbing a flight of stairs, Peter was winded by the time they reached the top. At the end of the hall at the top of the stairs was a door. He watched as High Evolutionary walked over to it, stopping in front of it and typing a passcode into the lock pad, the door hissing open once he entered it.

High Evolutionary walked in and Peter could see that it was a giant room, his headquarters probably. But the further he walked in, he could smell something delicious and his muddled brain was able to put together that it was food he was smelling. Around the corner in the large room, Peter could spot a table. But on that table were plates of a variety of foods, enough to make his mouth water just by looking at it.

High Evolutionary stood next to the table and watched as Peter was brought over. He allowed himself to be seated in the chair at the end of the long table. It took everything in him to not reach out and dig into the food taunting him.

“Leave us,” High Evolutionary waved a dismissive hand to the guard and Peter watched as they turned and left the room, the door sealing shut behind them, leaving Peter and High Evolutionary alone.

“I wanted to talk to you about your progress thus far,” High Evolutionary said as he moved to the other end of the table, taking his own seat.

Peter wanted to make a smart-ass comment about how on Terra, this would be considered a date by human standards. But he knew that the comment wouldn’t be appreciated so he bit his tongue.

His eyes flicked down to the food sitting in front of him, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to eat any of it so he curled his fingers into his pant legs to refrain from reaching out. High Evolutionary smirked as he watched the dilemma play out in P75’s head.

“You’re allowed to eat, P75. You’ve earned it since you’ve cooperated so well the past day. Besides, I can’t have you dying just because of your silly human needs when I still have so much in store for you.” he told him. Peter felt his fingers twitch before he was reaching out his cuffed hands.

But just as he was about to sink his fingers into the platter closest to him, he stopped inches short. If he ate what was given to him he’d only be doing exactly what High Evolutionary wants. Keeping himself alive to be experimented on for possibly the rest of his life. He doesn’t want to die, but he would rather die now than suffer for the rest of his life.

Besides, he wouldn’t take anything this monster has to give him, not after what he’s done to Rocket, and him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He would rather starve and allow death to take him.

So, with great restraint, he pulled his hands away and let them fall back into his lap, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants, keeping his eyes glued to the table even as he felt High Evolutionary’s scrutinizing gaze and the way his stomach growled in protest.

“Interesting,” the man clicked his tongue. “I see you’ve still got some fight in you.” he hummed as he stood up, walking over to Peter slowly, plucking a cherry off of a piece of dessert and popping it into his mouth.

“You and P13 are very alike, you know? You both struggled in the beginning.” he began to say and Peter felt his fingers dig into his thighs harder at the mention of Rocket. “But there comes a point where you have to accept defeat. I made my mistake with P13 by not watching it as closely as I should’ve. It made a keycard with scraps and escaped after tearing my face up.” he recalled and Peter had to bite back a proud grin. 

“But that is a mistake I will not make again, not with you.” he said as he stopped behind Peter’s chair, hands gripping the sides of it. “I know that you’re still struggling to accept that this is your reality, P13 did too but eventually I broke it. The only reason it rebelled against me was because it found out that it would not be part of the new world I was creating. Before then, it was a loyal pet of mine.” he told him. 

Peter felt his body shake with anger as he listened to the way he spoke about his friend. As if Rocket wasn’t anything but a pet, a slave, an experiment. 

He lifted his head as he watched High Evolutionary walk around him, his back to him as he stood next to the table, scooping up a colored pudding and popping the finger in his mouth, licking it off. Peter’s fingers crept toward the sharp knife sitting next to his plate.

“Which is why, once I kill P13 and your friends, you’ll have nothing to fight for anymore. You’ll have nowhere to stay but here, where you belong, in a cage.” 

Peter growled and wrapped his fingers around the knife, pushing up from his chair and lunging at High Evolutionary, knife aimed for his throat. Suddenly a scream was torn from him as his body convulsed, crumpling to the ground and the knife slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a clang. 

His neck burned as the collar sent waves of electricity through his body, making his entire body shake and convulse. His screams made the pain in his throat flare up even worse. He could smell his flesh burning and the edges of his vision grew darker the longer it went on. 

Suddenly it stopped and Peter was left gasping on the floor, curled into himself. He saw High Evolutionary’s boot kick the knife away from him as he shook and groaned.

“I thought we were past petty escape attempts,” he sighed, unamused.

“That wasn’t me trying to escape, that was just me wanting the satisfaction of watching you choke on your own fucking blood.” Peter growled, voice absolutely wrecked as he glared up at the man. High Evolutionary heaved a sigh, reaching up to speak into his comm.

“Come retrieve P75 and bring him down to the testing room. It seems he hasn’t quite learned his lesson,” he said with a glare in Peter’s direction. Peter grunted as he tried pulling himself up, only to cry out when another pulse of electricity shot through him, making him drop back down.

Suddenly the door was opening and three guards were walking in, heading straight for him. Peter yelled and lashed out as he was picked up. He kicked at the guards as they dragged him out of the room.

The door to the testing room was opened and he was being wrestled down onto the table, kicking and flailing the entire way. His teeth suddenly clamped together as another pulse of electricity shot through him, making his limbs stiffen and back arch before he was dropping down as the shocks came to a stop.

The straps were secured over him and his forehead was strapped into place.

“I didn’t want to do this with you conscious, P75, but you leave me no choice.” High Evolutionary spoke loudly over his yells. “Session #14, conducting thorough examination on subject 98P75,” he spoke into what he assumed was the camera that Peter knew had been recording every one of his sessions.

But at his words, Peter’s eyes widened and fear shot through him, ice cold and suffocating. No way this bastard was going to cut into him while he was awake. At this, Peter, for the first time ever since he was captured, begged.

“Wait, wait! Please- wait!” he panicked, trying desperately to move his limbs but they were secured tightly. Surgeons were surrounding him, the only thing he was able to see was their heads and the bright light beaming down at him.

Suddenly, Peter could feel the sharp, excruciating sting of a scalpel carving down the center of his right arm at the same time that his left arm was being carved into as well. He couldn’t bite back his screams as his arms were cut open vertically. Skilled fingers making sure that they don’t knick any vital veins or arteries as they worked.

With his arms sliced open and being held open by retractors, he could feel every single thing as they poked around and punctured him with needles, probably to keep him from bleeding out while they worked.

Next were his legs which somehow felt even worse than his arms. He doesn’t remember when he started sobbing but it was probably right after his left arm was cut open. He could hear and feel everything that they were doing. 

He remembers when he was a kid he had to get a tooth pulled because it was impacted. He’d been given laughing gas and numbing but he’d been awake for the whole thing. He recalls hearing the roots of his tooth detaching and feeling the pressure of the tools digging into his gums. He’d been so scared that he gripped his mom's hand like a lifeline during the whole procedure.

Now, Peter could feel everything. He could hear the sound of his skin and tissue splitting, could feel the sharp sting and pressure of the blades. He begged for them to stop, but his cries were ignored.

It was when he felt the cold metal of the scalpel press into his stomach that his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell into sweet, sweet oblivion, unconsciousness tugging him down quick and sudden.

The last thing he heard was, “Prep it for brain surgery,”

“Everybody spread out, cover as much area as you can and keep an eye out for the ship. It’s hard to miss.” Rocket spoke into the comms connecting him with the many ships of the Ravagers. 

The Guardians watched as the ships all went separate ways to cover more ground, well- space. They had followed the coordinates until this point, where Peter had last been located before his tracker went offline.

Rocket knew not to get his hopes up, but after Mantis revealed that she could feel that Peter was alive, it was hard not to get giddy with being so close to finding Peter and getting him the hell out of there.

Groot watched the radar as it sent out detection waves, to sense if any ships were close by. It could detect all of the Ravager ships as well as Knowhere behind them, but there was no sign of The High Evolutionary. Rocket upped the thrusters to move faster while Knowhere fell behind, it would be better if they all split up.

“We are getting closer to him,” Mantis spoke, her antennas hadn’t stopped glowing.

“You can feel him?”

“It only grows stronger the closer we get,” she explained.

“That’s good, that means he’s nearby,” Drax said, fists clenched, ready for a battle. They were all uniformed up, ready to kill High Evolutionary the moment they got their hands on him.

They flew around for a bit longer, scoping out every area when suddenly the comms crackled.

“I’ve got a sighting!” One of the Ravagers reported. Nebula slammed her hand down on the comm button.

“Send your coordinates!” She demanded and a second later their datapad was pulling up the coordinates of that ship. Rocket pushed the thrusters to their max, shooting past another Ravager ship in their haste to get to the coordinates.

A minute later, they spotted the Ravager ship that had reported the sighting. In front of it in the distance was the ship Rocket recognized the moment he saw it, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“There,” he said, as he pointed. Gamora picked up her comm, speaking into it and telling all ships to report to the given coordinates as she typed them out and pressed send.

Suddenly, over a hundred ships were gathering behind them as well as Knowhere slowly but surely making its way to them. There was no way that High Evolutionary hadn’t noticed the hundreds of ships gathering around them, as well as a huge ass severed celestial head.

“You guys know the plan,” Rocket said.

“Roger that!” Cosmos' voice crackled through the comms.

“Let’s get in there,” Rocket grit his teeth, a large giddy grin pulling at his lips as he shot forward, the Ravagers following behind. His eyes were narrowed on the entry point that he would make, having memorized where the ship hangar was located on the ship.

But as he was closing in, alarms started blaring, giving him a split-second notice of shots being fired at them. Rocket jerked the wheel and swerved away from the offending blasts, he looked around to spot what had been firing at them.

As he looked up, he noticed a swarm of what looked like High Evolutionaries army, a swarm of animals who’d been subjected to the same torture that Rocket had but they had been torn apart only to be replaced with weapons, looking like any child’s nightmare.

Swerving out of the way of another blast, Gamora and Groot began firing at the army while Rocket flew them through the swarm, swerving out of the way of the creatures flying at them. The Ravagers joined in, firing their guns and clearing the path for the Guardians. Rocket could spot the hangar and his eyes narrowed as he locked in, spinning and twisting around attacks until he was haphazardly landing the ship in the hangar.

It came to a horrible screeching stop after sliding across the ground, taking everything in its path out and crashing into other ships. Rocket barely gave himself a second to recover before he was climbing out of his seat and scrambling to race down the ramp, the others quick to follow behind him once they recovered from the rough landing.

Without a word, the Guardians lined up and began their way toward the doors that would take them into the base. Where their battles usually consisted of shouting orders or cracking jokes at the worst times, it was oddly silent without Peter. Their faces were set in determination as they strode toward the doors, weapons gripped in their hands, ready to break down any barrier in their way.

Drax stepped ahead of them and wedged his fingers into the crease where the doors met, gritting his teeth as he pried them apart, revealing a room full of enemies on the other end. With a battle cry, the Guardians charged forward, weapons drawn and firing to take out the first enemies.

Groot extended a long branch, swiping to take out a line of enemies, piercing one of the weaponized creatures through their middle while Mantis swung on the arm, jumping on a man's neck and flinging herself back to send the person across the room, crashing into the wall. Rocket climbed Groot and ran across the extended wooden tendril, firing at people below him before taking a leap and spinning in the air with a laugh and firing down.

Nebula sent out an electric pulse to everyone she’d been attaching disks to and several of them crumpled to the ground. She then spun around and spotted a creature about to pounce on Mantis while she was distracted with someone else, she quickly caught the creature in the stomach with her foot, swinging a fist only to have it caught and her arm was snapped at an unnatural angle.

Another creature swung and connected with her jaw, breaking her neck. A second later Drax was tackling the creature out of the way, leaving Nebula to deal with the one who still had a hold on her arm. She quickly regenerated her limbs, feeling them snap back into place. She shot and took the creature out before snapping her neck back up, aiming and firing across the room to help Gamora out with the three enemies she was currently fighting.

Drax jumped over her head and landed on a charging creature, crushing its arm under his weight and ripping it off of its body, using its guts to slide across the floor as he unsheathed his blades and swung at another enemy, burying the blade into the man's stomach and throwing him against the wall. He tossed the blade, pinning the man by his thigh before dodging out of the way of another thing, grabbing it by the gun its arm had been replaced with and punching his fist through its middle, wrapping his fingers around its intestines and yanking them out.

Gamora swung her sword, slicing open the stomachs of the creatures, their guts spilling out onto the floor. She spun and dodged blasts being shot at her, connecting her blade with the back of one of the enemy's knees, making the man drop to the ground. She looked up when she spotted something flying toward her in her peripherals.

She quickly lifted her blade, blocking a tentacle that had been aiming for her head. She looked up to see a creature with a tentacle face before she was caught off guard, unable to catch the other tentacle flying toward her. It slammed into her stomach, sending her across the room and slamming into the wall behind her.

She quickly landed on her feet, swinging her sword up as another tentacle reached out to her, the creature garbling a howl as the appendage was detached from its body in one clean slice. It recovered quickly, aiming its gun to shoot at her while she rolled out of the way and charged forward, piercing her blade into its stomach and jumping, spinning her body in the air as she sliced through its middle.

Gamora landed on her knees in front of the creature, watching as its body slid off of the mechanical legs, the room behind it having been cleared of enemies, the others panting as they caught their breath.

“Good work team. Now let’s get Quill back.” Rocket grunted as he jogged up to meet Gamora at the doors. The Guardians jogged up and together they ran through the hallways while Rocket shouted orders.

“Drax and Mantis, check the ship for any more prisoners, free all of them! Nebs, I trust you to steer the ship so that we can connect Knowhere to the deck and lead the survivors to safety! Groot, Gamora, and I will find Quill!” 

“Shouldn’t Mantis help find Peter since she can sense him?” Gamora questioned. Rocket shook his head.

“I know this ship like the back of my hand. I know where he is.” He told her. Drax and Mantis nodded before turning and taking another hall, beginning their search for other prisoners while Nebula took a left, in the direction of the cockpit.

Rocket led Gamora and Groot through the halls, their weapons drawn and firing any time they caught a glimpse of those black suits trying to get in their way. Rocket was fighting the harsh memories that fought their way back into his head just by being here, running through these halls all over again.

Except this time he was surrounded by family, family that would protect him. And this time he wasn’t running, he was fighting. Fighting to save his best friend who was in the hands of an evil bastard. He wouldn’t be losing any more friends.

He slid around a corner and spotted the stairwell that led down into the basement, his heart racing in his chest, the power behind each thump enough to feel as if the wind was being knocked out of him.

“He’ll be down here!” Rocket told them as he climbed down the stairs quickly, Gamora and Groot hot on his heels. He skidded to a stop in front of the locked door, raising his gun and firing at the keypad. Electricity crackled from the broken control panel as the door popped open. Gamora reached out and pulled the door open, allowing Rocket and Groot to slip through.

His heart was heavy in his chest as he ran alongside the many cells lining the walls, eyes hard and searching as he ran past each one. He fully expected Quill to be curled up in one of them, but when he came to the end of the hall and there had been no sign of Peter, he knew something was wrong.

With dread sinking heavily in his stomach, he continued down the hall, knowing one final place he could check. 

Rocket ran along the corridors that he’d been brought down many times before. He hated that Peter ever had to know pain like he had. He continued further and further down until he spotted that horrible room that still haunted his dreams.

Sliding to a stop in front of the locked door, Gamora and Groot behind him, he lifted his gun and shot the control panel, the door automatically sliding open to reveal what was inside.

He felt his heart plummet when he spotted the brown curls on the table in the center of the room. He had wanted to find Peter, but not here. Surrounding the table were multiple surgeons wearing masks and scrubs, sharp metal tools held in their hands. Their heads shot up when the door slid open. They looked like they were just about to start and Rocket couldn’t help the utter relief he felt at showing up when he did.

Suddenly, a surgeon lunged and grabbed a syringe on the metal tray. Gamora, Rocket, and Groot charged the room, guns aimed and shooting. It was over in a matter of seconds. The bodies had crumpled to the ground, leaving Peter the only one that they had their eyes on.

“Pete,” Rocket breathed, rushing over and jumping up onto the table. What he saw horrified him. Peter was unconscious, thank lord, but he was missing his shirt and both of his arms and stomach had very obviously been cut into, long clean cuts all the way down that had been stitched up, blood still smeared across his skin. No one had bothered to clean it off.

Not only had he been cut into, but there were black dotted lines along his hairline marking where they were about to cut into his scalp to remove his brain.

Peter looked like hell. His hair was tangled and messy, around his throat was a damn collar that was far too tight and Rocket could see burnt skin peeking out from underneath it. He had dark bags under his eyes and it looked like he’d lost weight in the four days that he was gone.

“Oh my god…” Gamora’s mouth hung open in horror as she took in the damage that had been done. She knew that the son of a bitch was sick, but she never would have expected this. 

“Help me unstrap him,” Rocket ordered, voice grim as he reached into his belt, pulling a knife and cutting through the chest strap. As they all worked to undo the straps, Rocket glanced down at the surgeon that had been standing next to Quill’s head. As he looked down at them, he noticed the empty syringe that was still loosely gripped in their limp hand. His stomach twisted and he glanced up at Peter, spotting the puncture mark in his neck above the collar. Shit.

A second later, the last strap was undone and Groot was carefully lifting Peter’s limp body into his arms. They hated the way Peter’s head lolled back before Groot adjusted it so that it was resting on his shoulder, the lifelessness to him was unsettling.

“Let’s get him the hell out of here,” Rocket said and there were collective nods of agreement. Together, they ran out of the room, Groot being careful to cradle Peter’s body closely to his own so as to not jostle him too much.

As they got back into the hallway, he could hear the faint sounds of other animals. He slowed to a stop, weighing his choices. With a decision, he turned to look at Gamora and Groot.

“Get Peter to the ship. There’s something I need to do,” he told them. Gamora shook her head.

“No, we’re not leaving you behind,” she said, voice hard.

“I’ll be fine! You need to get Pete to safety. There are more prisoners down this way, I’m not going to leave them.” Rocket insisted. Gamora seemed to have an internal debate before she growled in frustration and nodded, taking a step back.

“I better see you on that ship,” she said and Rocket nodded.

“You will, now go.” he said before turning and racing toward the room full of prisoners. “Drax, Mantis, I need you to come to my coordinates, there are more prisoners here and I can’t free all of them by myself!” he shouted into his comms, tapping a few buttons on the device around his wrist as he sent his location.

“On our way!” Mantis responded.

Rocket walked into the large room filled with cages upon cages of animals who’d been taken from their home planets. He couldn’t help but think of Lylla, and Teefs, and Floor. How he’d failed them. But he won’t fail these guys. He won’t fail Pete.

He stepped forward and spotted an empty cage. His feet carried him over to it, his eyes focusing in on the words written on the tin plate.

Species: Terran

Common Name: Human

If Rocket wasn’t already pissed off, he was fuming now as he stepped back to take in the small cage that Peter had been stuffed into. He suddenly heard a familiar sound that made his ears perk up. He looked up to see that inside the cage on top of the one Peter had been put into, were a bunch of baby creatures, identical to him. And on the cage, it read Raccoon.

Rocket felt his chest constrict as he pulled the very same keycard he’d used to escape this place a long, long time ago from his pocket. He reached up and slid the card through the lock. The door opened and Rocket gently scooped up the baby raccoons into his arms.

“P13!!” A harsh shout made Rocket spin around, shaking the baby raccoons off of him so they could scramble to hide as High Evolutionary came striding around the corner. Rocket quickly reached over his back to grab his gun only to have an energy blast sent his way, throwing him back into the hallway.

“How dare you waltz in here and take what is rightfully mine!” the man screamed as Rocket grunted, trying to pull himself back to his feet. “I own you and your Terran friend 98P75!”

Rocket was suddenly lifted by an invisible force, being slammed up against the ceiling as High Evolutionary stood below him, screaming up at him like a madman.

“You think you’re better than me when in reality you’re just a freakish little monster!” he hissed viciously as Rocket grit his teeth, hand reaching down to his boots. “I created you! How dare you think that you are more, 8.9.P.1.3!” 

Suddenly, Rocket reached the button to his gravity boots and he dropped down from the ceiling, landing on his feet and reaching back to grab his gun, leveling it at the man whose expression was one of shock.

“The name’s Rocket,” he grinned, “Rocket, Raccoon.”

High Evolutionary flew back from the force of the blast from Rocket's gun. Suddenly Groot appeared, reaching out a long arm and wrapping his hand around the evil bastard's throat, throwing him back into Drax’s arms.

Drax threw him over his head, slamming him down onto the ground only to pick him back up and swing, the force of his punch sending him stumbling. Nebula came out from the shadows, shooting him in the chest as Mantis jumped down and kicked him in the face. Nebula shot him one more time before he crashed into the wall behind him.

He quickly pushed himself up, moving to charge them before Gamora stepped out in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into the blade of her knife, burying it deep into his stomach. He gasped as he reached down and cradled where the knife had impaled him.

She pushed him back and glared down at his hunched figure before wrapping her fingers around his throat and looking up at the flap of “skin” that had come loose. She reached up, grabbing it and slowly peeling the mask off of his face, revealing the bloody mess beneath it. He fell back as his face was peeled off, landing on his back hard.

“Look what you did to me!” he choked as the Guardians surrounded him. “All I ever wanted to do was make things perfect,” he said. Rocket's grip on his gun tightened.

“You didn’t wanna make things perfect,” he spat, “You just hated things the way they are.” and with that, he raised his gun to his face and pulled the trigger.

After knowing that Gamora and Groot had dropped Peter off at the infirmary before going back for him, Rocket told the others about the other prisoners. They were quick to help him free every single animal before making their way out of the exploding ship. As they got to the deck, Rocket saw hundreds of children being helped on as well as a herd of animals following behind them.

Cosmo was gritting her teeth as she kept Knowhere and High Evolutionary’s ship locked together. Drax, Mantis, and Groot hopped to the other side while Rocket, Gamora, and Nebula stayed back to make sure that every single animal and child was safely aboard Knowhere.

Once certain that was the last of them, they all hopped on just as Cosmo dropped to the ground, unconscious. Gamora caught Rocket when he had jumped a little too late, pulling him to safety.

They all sat back and watched as The High Evolutionary’s ship drifted back, lighting up like a dying star as it exploded. Rocket slumped in Gamora’s hold as he watched what had been his prison for so long finally collapse with its creator inside of it. 

He was finally free.

As soon as the children and animals were situated, the guardians ran to the infirmary where Peter had been dropped off before Gamora and Groot had returned for Rocket. As soon as Mantis, Drax, and Nebula heard that Peter was alive, there had been a collective sigh of relief.

But upon their arrival in the infirmary, everyone approached slowly as soon as Peter came into view. He was lying in a bed, dozens of wires attached to him all over, a heart monitor beeping steadily where it was next to him and an IV taped to his arm, the collar had been removed, revealing a ring of burns around his throat.

“What happened to him…” Mantis whispered as they surrounded his bed, her expression one of anguish. She reached out to touch her fingertips to the back of his hand but Nebula reached out and grabbed her wrist causing Mantis to look up at her in question.

“You do not want to feel what he is feeling,” she said, shaking her head and letting go of her wrist. Mantis nodded slowly, dropping her hand back to her side. Rocket walked over to the datapad sitting next to his bed, picking it up, and swiping open the scan that had been done.

“Quill suffered from severe blood loss, multiple minor and severe lacerations, puncture wounds, bruised and cracked ribs, burns on his temples and throat, a concussion, and he’s severely malnourished after not eating nor drinking any water for the four days that he was gone.” Rocket read out loud, his ears flat on his head and grip tightening on the datapad in anger.

“How could someone be so cruel,” Mantis said.

“If there was a way to bring him back, I would make sure that his death would be agonizingly slow,” Drax grumbled, voice low and threatening. Rocket set down the datapad and jumped up onto the bed next to Peter. He reached out and slowly lifted his shirt, revealing the long stitched-up cut that started at his sternum and ended below his belly button. Mantis gasped and stepped back while Drax and Nebula tensed.

“He operated on him just like he did to me and the others. He made Peter into one of his test subjects and there’s no knowing what he injected him with or how damaged Peter will be mentally once he wakes up.” Rocket said, voice sullen as he pointed to the small bruises scattered across Peter’s neck, puncture marks from needles.

“High Evolutionary had Quill's stomach, both arms, and both legs cut open to examine him. There’s no telling whether or not Peter was awake or unconscious for the operation. You don’t just recover from that kind of trauma. I have a feeling that the Quill we get when he wakes up won’t be the same as the Quill we know.” He told them, gently pulling Peter’s shirt back down and looking up at his face, taking in the way he still looked so damn tired even while asleep.

“We should keep watch,” Drax said. “I’ll take the first shift,” he offered.

“Me too,” Mantis spoke up, stepping closer to the bed.

“I will too,” Nebula nodded.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket looked up at Gamora to see that she had gotten comfortable in one of the many chairs for visitors, looking as if she wouldn’t be moving any time soon. Rocket huffed a laugh, arms dropping to his sides.

“Looks like all of us will be keeping watch then,” he said.

For the first night after all of the shit that went down, all of them kept watch of Peter. Only one leaving the room at a time to either use the washroom or go grab all of them food to bring back. Nothing had changed over the first night, Peter’s heart monitor stayed steady, he hadn’t moved a finger, and his vitals all stayed the same.

That was until they were nearing the second night. A nurse had just finished her checkup on him, popping into the room and changing out his IV bag and checking his wounds, cleaning them, and applying salve to hurry the healing process on the external wounds.

But nearly two hours after she had left, the guardians had been sitting around the bed, Rocket, Groot, Drax, and Mantis playing a card game around the small table in the room while Gamora and Nebula talked quietly to each other. 

Rocket had been the first to hear it, a barely noticeable jump in Pete’s heart rate. His ears had perked up and he’d looked up from the cards in his hands, eyes narrowing in on where Peter lay. His eyes jumped to the heart monitor when it skipped another beat. 

“Rocket?” Mantis questioned, “What’s wrong?” she asked, her brows pinched together. This drew everyone else's attention as they looked at him before following his eyes over to Peter’s bed. 

“Somethings wrong,” he muttered.

Suddenly, the heart monitors rapidly picked up speed and Peter twitched. In a second, everyone was standing from their seats. Peter’s arm jerked, then his other arm, then his legs, and then his entire body was jolting and jerking in the bed, a horrible choking sound coming from him.

“What’s happening?!” Gamora demanded and they all rushed over to the bed, standing over Peter’s convulsing body. Alarms started going off as the machines attached to Peter started going crazy. Rocket jumped up onto the bed.

“He’s seizing! Help me turn him onto his side!” He demanded as he dug his hands under Peter’s side. Drax was quick to help him roll Peter onto his side. Peter continued to shake and jolt, his choking gasps and the alarms wailing were the only sounds that filled the room.

Mantis made the mistake of touching Peter’s hand to console him only to jerk her hand back with a cry, cradling it to her as if she were burnt. Tears built rapidly in her eyes as she backed away quickly. Drax was quick to rush over to her, pulling her to him comfortingly.

“He is scared!” Mantis cried, black eyes shining with her tears.

“You’re telling us he’s aware of what's happening right now?” Gamora gawked and Mantis nodded quickly.

“Talk to him, he can hear you! Let him know that he’s okay!” she told them.

Peter’s legs kicked under the blankets and his fingers curled into the sheets, his body curling in on itself and his eyes rolling back as he gasped and choked, struggling to pull air into his contracting lungs. Rocket jumped onto the other side so that he could see his face.

“Hey, Quill! You hear me, buddy? You’re alright, stop being such a drama queen, yeah?” Rocket spoke loud enough to be heard over the blaring alarms. Where are the damn doctors!? 

“You’re okay, we’re all here, you’re safe,” he assured him, unable to think of what else he could say or do to help. “Don’t be scared, okay? I get it, I used to be you. But you’re surrounded by friends so I can promise you that you’ll be okay.” he continued to talk and he swore that the shaking and twitching wasn’t as aggressive as it had been.

Suddenly the door hissed open and a nurse was rushing in, a syringe in her hand that had Rocket's fur standing up and a growl threatening to leave him as he eyed her. Gamora and Nebula stood guard in front of her, eyes hard and protective as they blocked her path to Peter.

“It’s to help him, it will stop the seizure,” she told them, a bit frantically. Gamora and Nebula glanced at each other, communicating to each other in a silent way that only sisters could seem to do before they both stepped aside, allowing the nurse to pass.

The nurse rushed over and leaned over Peter, gently holding his jerking head in place as she pressed the needle into his neck, releasing the medicine into his bloodstream before removing it and stepping back.

Almost instantly the convulsions slowed, and his heart monitor slowed although it was still faster than normal. They watched as his body convulsed and twitched a couple more times before he fell limply against the sheets, chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes remaining shut.

The guardians released their held breaths and Mantis turned into Drax’s arms, face buried against his chest as her body shook with her silent cries, whether it was because she’d touched Peter and felt what he had been feeling, or she was simply crying because of the terrifying scene that had just played out in front of her, they were unsure.

“What the hell was that?” Gamora demanded, taking a step toward the nurse who was typing away on the datapad.

“We need to draw some blood. He may have been injected with some sort of poison and we need to know what kind in order to treat it,” she told them. Groot gently rolled Peter onto his back again and pulled the blankets back up his body.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea? We just rescued him from a psychopath who had already drained a lot of the blood from his body. If he wakes up to find out more blood is bein’ taken it could send him into a panic attack and make him think he’s still there.” Rocket argued, knowing too well the panic of waking up in an infirmary and having to convince himself that he wasn’t back on that damn ship.

“If you want to save your friend then I need you to trust us to help. We won’t be able to identify the poison in his body if we do not run a test,” she insisted, her pink eyes hard with determination. Rocket didn’t like the thought of running more tests on Peter but if it was needed to save his life then he’d have to just deal with it.

“Fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Krylorian nurse left the room and returned a couple of minutes later with a needle and a tube that would collect the blood. Nebula, even though she’d kill anyone who would dare to mention it, held Peter’s limp hand in hers while the blood was drawn, all of them watching to make sure Peter remained asleep during the process.

Luckily, it was over quickly and the blood was sent to the lab to identify the poison. The room was silent as soon as the nurse left, too many thoughts racing through all of their heads, trying to recover from the violent scene that had just played out in front of them. To see Peter like that was terrifying to all of them, even worse knowing that Peter was aware and just as scared as they had been.

“What happens now?” Gamora breaks the silence.

“We hope. Hope that they’re able to identify what poison that bastard injected Pete with and then we can save our friend,” Rocket sighed.

None of them leave Peter’s side after that. They drag their chairs over to the bed and sit on both sides of him, the silence heavy in the room but no one dares to break it. The sound of Peter breathing was enough to keep them calm. His heart rate had returned to normal but there was a dangerously gray tint to his skin.

At one point throughout the night, Peter had whimpered in his sleep, making everyone look up in worry. It was clear that the beginnings of a nightmare were taking place and so Mantis reached out a gentle hand, pressing her fingertips to Peter’s forehead and murmuring the words, “You are safe,” to him which was quick to settle him.

By the time the nurse came back, it was late and Mantis and Drax had been asleep, leaning against each other, Gamora and Groot falling asleep while Nebula and Rocket stubbornly stayed awake.

As soon as she stepped into the room, the others were waking and looking at her expectantly.  

“There’s an issue,” she told them.

“What is it?” Drax questioned.

“We ran the test to identify which poison he’d been injected with but the poison isn’t in our database. We’ve never seen it before which means we have no way of creating an antidote for him,” she explained, brows pinched in distress.

“Shit,” Rocket said, heart squeezing.

“I know how we can find out,” Nebula spoke up suddenly and all eyes were on her. “When I was leaving the cockpit I came across a room that held all of the files to the test subjects,” she explained. “I found Peter’s and I took it. We could watch the session footage and see what was used,” she told them. It was clear that the thought of watching footage of what Peter had to suffer through was something that none of them wanted to do, but would have to do in order to save his life.

“That’s the best shot we have at identifying this shit,” Rocket shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest disgruntled. Nebula nodded and left the room to retrieve the file where she’d locked it away so no one could get ahold of it.

A couple of minutes later they were all surrounding the table where the hologram projection was displayed. Nebula searched through the files and her hand hovered over the file that held the footage of the first session. Nobody urged her to open it, none of them wishing to see their friend like that.

But in order to save him, they had to, so Rocket quickly reached out and opened the file for her, like ripping off a bandaid.

The screen popped up and there he was. Peter’s limp body was lifted onto the table and strapped down. It was clear that he was awake, only sedated. His eyes moved around frantically and Rocket knew what he was feeling all too well, screaming inside but unable to express it outwardly, your body paralyzed, helpless to the prodding hands of the scientists.

They watched as he was cut, burnt, punctured. They could see the tears building in his eyes and how he would squeeze them shut at an especially deep cut, a whine low in his throat that was barely noticeable, but they heard it. The footage came to an end once Peter was unstrapped and dragged out of the room and suddenly the next session footage was playing.

“How many of these are there?” Mantis questioned, already sounding pained.

“Fourteen…” Nebula said.

“Session #2, this one will only be a checkup on subject 98P75.” High Evolutionaries tinny voice announced as the camera flickered on. Suddenly, the door opened and a kicking and struggling Peter was dragged in, forced down onto the table, and strapped down.

They listened and watched as Peter snarked High Evolutionary, Rocket smirked as he heard him smart-mouthing High Evolutionary. High Evolutionary poked around and a woman standing next to him took notes of his healing process. High Evolutionary revealed that he knew of Peter’s heritage and Quill was smart enough not to fall for the bait. The footage went on for ten more minutes before it was coming to an end.

Now if they didn’t know Quill, they wouldn’t have recognized the plan brewing in his head just by looking at his eyes. Luckily for them, they did know Quill, so as soon as they saw him eying the tray next to the table, they knew it wasn’t gonna be good.

Just as the straps came undone, Peter was sitting up and swinging, stunning one of the guards before reaching over to the table. Rocket was able to spot how he smoothly slid the paperclip into his sleeve before grabbing a scalpel to cover it. The guardians collectively tensed when they watched him swing the scalpel and stab it into the shoulder of one of the guards.

Peter bit at the fingers of another guard trying to pin him down but the fight didn’t last much longer when a scientist lunged forward and plunged a syringe into his neck, effectively sedating him and he fell limply onto the table. Rocket fumed silently as they secured a collar around Peter’s throat, the one that would later be the cause of a ring of burns around it. They slumped in their seats as they watched him get dragged out of the room, despite them knowing he wouldn’t have made it out considering there were still twelve sessions to go, it wasn’t any less upsetting.

The next session showed footage of Peter being forced to run on a wheel for two hours straight until his body collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

Suddenly, the file closed and another file popped up, listed as ‘Subject 98P75’s escape attempt’. The guardians shared a look, their faces miserable. Rocket opened the file and they all watched as security footage around the ship showed Peter breaking out of his cell and stealing the clothes of a guard. They saw everything, how he put on a confident facade before walking out into the main room and disappearing into the corridor that would take him to the escape pods, they saw as he shot at the guards who ran into him and they saw how he’d been so incredibly close to his escape before High Evolutionary appeared and crushed his chances.

With heavy hearts and turning stomachs, they watched as Peter was brought back into the room and pinned down to the table, squirming and fighting the entire way. They watched as a wet cloth was pulled over his face and two crackling rods were being pressed to his temples, making his entire body strain against the straps as a scream tore from his throat.

Mantis flinched and looked away while Nebula averted her eyes, but none of that blocked out the sounds of Peter’s screams and cries. They could see smoke clouding around where the electric rods met the fabric of the cloth and their fists clenched with the urge to break something as they watched the torture unfold.

Unable to handle the horrible sounds of Peter’s screams, Nebula reached out and skipped ahead into the video, making sure to keep an eye out for any poison. The nurse was still next to them, watching intently, though her eyes were pained.

The video ended when Peter lost consciousness, his body jolting from the electric shocks but he remained silent which was more eerie than his screaming because it created the allusion that he was dead.

The file closed and suddenly a dozen pictures were popping up and the silence was deafening. Nebula swiped through the pictures that showed one beaten-up Peter Quill peering up from a small cage that he was curled up in as well as pictures of every injury on his body. They had to look away from the screen and to Peter just to remind themselves that he wasn’t there anymore, that he was here and he was alive.

The rest of the sessions consisted of blood being taken, more experimental cuts, forced exertion, and torture. But the worst part was that Peter had stopped fighting completely. They could see the way he’d given up, maybe without even realizing it himself. But his eyes no longer held that mischievous glint to them, they were tired and sunken. He didn’t fight, and he didn’t speak for all of the next nine sessions.

The footage of the last session revealed a different setting. The camera was pointed down at a room from the corner and they could see a table of food in the center of the room. Suddenly, the door was hissing open and High Evolutionary was walking in with Peter following behind him, a guard holding his cuffed arm as he was led over to the chair, pushed to sit down.

“This has to be when he was poisoned, right?” Mantis said, her voice making everyone jump just slightly, having been so used to the silence between all of them.

“This is the last session, if not this one then he must’ve done it off the record,” Nebula said. They listened as High Evolutionary praised Peter for his good behavior and they all watched the way Peter didn’t even bother responding, no smart quip, no shit-talking, just silence, and they hated it.

Peter was offered the food but he refused to eat it.

And as High Evolutionary spoke, they saw the muscles in Peter’s jaw clench as he stared down at the plate in front of him, his fingers curling into his pant legs, a clear sign that he was planning something.

They knew as soon as High Evolutionary threatened to kill them that Peter’s reaction wouldn’t be a good one. Suddenly, Peter was grabbing the knife from his plate and throwing himself at High Evolutionary. But before the knife could make contact, Peter was crumpling to the ground with a cry as the collar around his neck was set off.

“I thought we were past petty escape attempts,” High Evolutionary sighed in disappointment as he kicked the knife away from Peter.

For the first time since nine sessions ago, Peter showed true emotion as he glared up at the man. Rage .

“That wasn’t me trying to escape, that was just me wanting the satisfaction of watching you choke on your own fucking blood.” he had growled. Rocket couldn’t feel anything but pride.

“Atta boy, Pete.” he murmured.

Peter was dragged out of the room, the fight had returned and he kicked, scratched, and punched, all the way until he was being dragged back into the test room. But as he struggled, the collar sent another wave of electricity through him, allowing the guards to take advantage as they strapped him down.

The anger was quick to leave his eyes when High Evolutionary revealed what the next session entailed.

For the first time since they started watching the footage, all of the guardians flinched and went pale the moment a scalpel was being dug into Peter’s arms, dragging a deep precise cut down the length of his arm. The sound of Peter’s cries and pleading was horrific and Rocket and Drax were the only ones who could keep their eyes on the screen, even the nurse had averted her eyes.

Peter had been awake for the entire thing. They ignored his cries and pleas for them to knock him out, to at least sedate him. Even during the hardest missions, the worst injuries that Peter has suffered through, they never saw him cry and scream with such pain in his voice as he was in this footage.

They didn’t know what was worse, his screams and cries, or how they suddenly came to a stop as soon as the scalpel was being dug into the skin of his stomach. They knew he was alive, because he was with them right now, alive. But god, it was like he had just died on that table.

They continued to take samples, and do inspections, until they were stitching up each long cut on his body. High Evolutionary had told them to prepare him for brain surgery so they watched as the surgeons prepared, swapping out their bloodied gloves for new ones, cleaning the tools, and drawing the dotted line across Peter’s forehead.

Suddenly, alarms started blaring in the ship and all of the surgeons stumbled when the ship rocked from a sudden explosion. High Evolutionary tensed up and spoke into his comm.

“What the hell is going on out there?!” He demanded. They watched as he listened to the response, his face dropping before a slow grin spread across it.

“Prepare the poison, if at any point they find P75 here, inject it. If they kill me, they will lose their only chance at getting an antidote.” He told the surgeons. They all leaned closer to the hologram to watch as the surgeons reached down below the tray and pulled out a vial, uncapping a syringe and pushing it into the lid.

“Wait, pause it,” the nurse suddenly said and Nebula was quick to do so. “Enhance and zoom in on the vial.” She told her. Nebula tapped at the screen until the image was clearing drastically and zoomed into the glass vial.

“I recognize the name!” she exclaimed, a triumphant smile pulling at her lips before her brows furrowed in confusion, “It should’ve been in our database. He must’ve wiped it from all of the infirmary databases in hopes that no one would be able to cure it,” she concluded.

“So you can make the antidote?” Rocket asked, voice hopeful, lips pursed. She looked down at him and nodded, her eyes set in determination.

“I can. But it’ll take at least a day to process,” 

“But does he have that much time?” Gamora questioned. Sometimes Rocket forgets that this Gamora isn’t their Gamora. With how she’s so blatantly expressing her worry for Peter, it’s hard to tell the difference.

“I will go as fast as I can but I cannot speed up the synthesization.” She told her, a frown pulling at her lips. They knew that the nurse wanted the same thing as them, for Peter to be okay, and she would do her best to make that happen.

“Okay,” Rocket cut in before Gamora could say anything else. “We’ll let you know if anything changes with him,” he nodded toward Peter and the nurse tipped her head before turning to quickly leave the room and begin her work on an antidote.

“Do you think he has that much time?” Gamora repeated the question, directing it to Rocket who looked up at her.

“We’ll make sure he’s okay.” He said grimly as he shut off the datapad, closing the haunting image of Peter on that table, dissected. The silence that settled between them was deafening, but they could all agree they rathered the silence over the sound of Peter’s screams.

The sound of Peter's rhythmic breathing was enough to keep them calm because it reminded them that they had their friend back, that he was safe now and High Evolutionary was dead. He would never be able to hurt Peter or Rocket ever again.

“I always thought Thanos was the cruelest person in the galaxy, with the way he would torture his children. I’ve seen what he was capable of, but nothing could have prepared me to see the torture that both you and Peter had to endure.” Nebula spoke so suddenly that everyone jumped in their seats, turning their attention to her.

“He was awake for the whole thing…” Gamora shook her head, brows pinched together and jaw clenched, furious. “How he isn’t dead just from shock, I have no idea.” she huffed, glancing at Peter, wringing her hands in her lap.

“That’s the thing,” Rocket started, “If they had done that to him before everything else, it just might’ve killed him from pure shock. But his body got used to the torture he was forced to endure until it wasn’t a shock to it anymore,” he grumbled.

“That is horrible,” Mantis sniffed, her eyes red-rimmed and Drax kept his arm around her shoulder, no doubt sending contentment through his touch to keep her subdued. Rocket grunted, nodding.

“What matters is that Pete will be okay. You guys saved me, we can save Pete too.” Rocket said with as much certainty in his voice that he could muster.

Nobody could sleep after that, after what they had seen, especially Rocket. He knew that if he fell asleep, he would risk waking up screaming from old memories deciding to haunt him, except now they would involve Pete. He didn’t want to relive seeing him in that state, never again. And he knew that if he fell asleep, it would be all that he dreams of.

So he stubbornly stayed away, busying his hands with scraps and parts, making a new weapon to add to the collection of things he made when he was bored, or, like now, trying to stay awake. Most of the time they didn’t work, his sleep-deprived brain could make it but it wasn’t guaranteed to work.

Mantis had offered to help him sleep, she had thought he simply couldn’t, she didn’t know it was by choice. Rocket had politely declined her offer and he felt bad for the girl. She looked incredibly tired but just like everyone else, she couldn’t sleep. While she could use her powers to help others sleep, there was nothing she could do to help herself sleep.

Nebula and Gamora had disappeared, informing them that they were going to go find some food to bring back for the others even though no one had an appetite, not even Drax who could finish an entire feast in one sitting if he wanted to.

Whenever Peter made a small sound in his sleep, or a finger simply twitched, the others were put on edge, watching him intently. They knew that if Peter was awake, he wouldn’t want them babying him the way that they were now, but they weren’t about to act as if he didn’t currently have fatal poison coursing through his body and he could drop dead at any given moment.

They were all sitting in tense silence around Peter’s bed when the Krylorian nurse returned to the room with a large needle in her gloved hands, immediately putting the others on edge as they tensed in their seats.

“We have everything ready to begin creating the antidote, I just need a sample of the poison as the final touch,” she told them, standing back so that she wouldn’t risk being thrown across the room if she got too close to Peter with that needle.

The guardians stood from their seats, moving to give her room to approach Peter. She nodded in thanks and walked over to the bed, looking up at Drax.

“Do you mind moving him onto his side for me? I need him to be curled up into a fetal position,” she asked him and he grunted as he moved closer to the bed. With surprisingly gentle hands from the destroyer, Drax shifted Peter onto his side, moving his knees up until he was curled into a ball, looking incredibly small like that.

The nurse thanked him as she stood on the side of the bed that Peter’s back was to. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it up, exposing his bruised back, the knobs of his spine jutting out.

They watched with tense bodies as the nurse rubbed the area she would puncture with a sanitary wipe. She uncapped the long needle and with steady hands, lined it up with his spine and slowly pushed the needle into his skin. The first second was fine, but they watched as the needle sunk deeper into Peter’s back.

Suddenly, Peter was whimpering and shifting, his heart monitor spiking. The guardians shifted uncomfortably, they didn’t like watching Peter having more needles shoved into him without his permission, they felt no better than High Evolutionary. Peter choked on a whine, his fingers curling into the sheets underneath him and brows pinching together in distress as the nurse drew a sample with the needle.

To their horror, Peter’s eyes began to flutter open, the sharp pain in his back waking him. Luckily, Mantis was quick to react, jumping in front of Drax and reaching out a hand to Peter’s temples.

“Sleep.” she hushed, quickly urging Peter’s eyes to fall back shut. They breathed out a sigh when those pained green eyes fell shut against their will, his face relaxing as he fell into oblivion once again.

A second later the nurse was withdrawing the needle, capping the lid, and stepping back from the bed. She wiped away the blood that bubbled to the surface with a cotton swab before smoothing a bandaid over it and pulling his shirt back down.

“I hope you got what ya needed because you will not be doing that again.” Rocket grumbled, arms crossed over his chest in a displeased manner.

“I did. The antidote should be ready by tomorrow morning,” she told them.

“I am Groot,” Groot nodded at her and she smiled softly.

“You’re welcome. As soon as it is finished I will be here to give it to him,” she told them before leaving the room once again, sealing the door shut behind her. The guardians dragged their chairs back to the hospital bed, sitting back down. 

“It’s gonna be a long night,” Rocket groaned, dragging a paw down his face tiredly.

It was a rough night. Rocket was right. Peter had another seizure nearing dinner time, a couple of hours after that sample had been taken. This one had been worse than the last one and only succeeded in haunting their dreams even more.

Peter had bit his tongue during the seizure so when Mantis had spotted the blood in his mouth she had promptly freaked the fuck out. They had a nurse check his tongue and luckily he hadn’t bitten a chunk off or anything, just enough for it to bleed.

His heart rate was no longer sitting at its rhythmic pace, now it was erratic and slow. His skin was tinted gray which they knew was unhealthy for a Terran to be that color. His rosy cheeks had lost their color and his skin was so incredibly pale. The nurse had returned to rub more salve on the healing cuts all over his body, soon the stitches would be able to come out, maybe in a week.

They thought it couldn’t get worse than it already was. That was, until Peter woke up.

They had been talking amongst each other quietly, sipping at their cups of coffee that they had been relying on keeping them awake. They hadn’t noticed the slight pick-up in Peter’s heart rate.

Peter had woken up to the sound of voices surrounding him, much like the voices of the scientists and surgeons surrounding him on that table he had gotten so used to, that he had dreaded.

He could smell the antiseptic wipes and chemicals that reminded him all too much of a lab, a hospital, somewhere he did not want to be. He thought that he had died on that table, that High Evolutionary had killed him by taking his brain like he remembers him ordering the surgeons to do. He remembers the excruciating sting of scalpels dragging down his arms and legs, gutting him, putting him on display to be poked and prodded by greedy scientists.

He couldn’t go through that pain again. Please, not again.

So the moment his eyes opened, it wasn’t the hospital room that he was seeing, but the room on High Evolutionary’s ship. And that was enough for a panic attack to hit him like a punch straight to the gut.

Rocket’s ears perked up when he heard quick breaths, none of which were coming from them. He directed his eyes to Peter where he remained curled up on his side on the bed, his back to him. He stood up on his chair, trying to get a better look. As he did, he could see the way that Peter’s shoulders shook.

“Pete? You with us, bud?” he asked, effectively shutting everyone else up as they quickly turned their attention onto Peter. Everyone stood up, the sound of their chairs scraping across the floor making Peter tense. Nebula reached out slowly to touch Peter’s shoulder comfortingly.

Big mistake.

Because the moment Nebula’s hand made contact with Peter’s shoulder, he was suddenly sitting up in the bed and throwing himself down to his knees on the floor. They all exclaimed at the sudden reaction and rounded the bed.

“Peter, calm down buddy. It’s us, you’re not there anymore.” Rocket tried to calm him, jumping up onto the bed and holding his hands out in a calming manner. But as Peter pulled himself up on wobbly legs, he didn’t even glance at Rocket before he was shoving himself past the others.

Gamora grabbed his arm only for him to cry out and yank it out of her grasp.

“Don't touch me!” he shouted, stumbling back toward the door. His wide green eyes were terrified, and Rocket could tell that he wasn’t seeing them. He was seeing scientists, he was seeing the surgeons, he was seeing High Evolutionary.

Peter smacked a hand blindly at the wall next to the door, keeping his eyes on the others as they all carefully approached him. Finally, his hand found the button to open the door and it was hissing open behind him.

He stumbled back and nearly fell to the ground, but was quick to catch himself and flee, shoving past nurses and doctors. 

“Peter!” Gamora shouted and they all rushed after him, doctors and nurses pressing themselves against the walls of the corridor to get out of the way of the guardians. 

Peter wasn’t fast, he was stumbling and tripping over his feet. His vision was tilting and he felt like he was a second away from vomiting even though he hadn’t been fed anything since he was taken.

He had no idea where the exit to this place was. All he knew was that there were windows. At this point, he didn’t care if the windows led to space instead of the escape pods. He would rather spaces' cold embrace take his life rather than have a long drawn-out death in this shit hole.

So as he turned down another corridor, he spotted an emergency axe hanging on the wall and made a beeline toward it. The sound of the scientist's footsteps was growing closer behind him. He slid to a stop in front of the axe and picked it up off of the wall, nearly dropping it to the ground at the heavyweight.

He quickly swung it at the closest window, shattering it into pieces. If he hadn’t been so out of it, he would’ve realized that he could breathe completely fine despite a window to space being broken. In reality, if a window on a ship had been broken, he would’ve been sucked out of it and sent drifting through space. But because he was very obviously delirious from the poison running its course, he didn’t realize that fact.

He didn’t care as he stepped onto the broken glass, the sharp pieces sinking into his feet. The pain went unnoticed as he moved to climb out of the window. He was nearly out when hands suddenly grabbed him, pulling him back.

He cried out and flailed, yanking himself out of their grasp and stumbling back, falling onto his butt in the middle of the glass shards. He quickly picked up a larger piece and held it out in front of him defensively as he backed himself into a corner.

“S-Stay away from me!” he shouted, green eyes shining with tears. The guardians surrounded him, the glass crunching under their shoes. They winced as they watched the shards sink into Peter’s skin, smearing blood across the tile floors.

“It's us, Quill.” Drax said. He didn’t understand why Peter was acting like this. He would’ve thought Peter would be ecstatic to see his friends.

“He doesn’t know that. He’s delusional, stuck living in a reality he’s no longer in.” Nebula told him, not unkindly, but with a sense of understanding. They stayed far back enough to avoid the swiping of the glass shard in Peter’s hand, but when Peter finally realized that he couldn’t take on all of them, he suddenly turned the shard onto himself, holding it against his neck.

“Stay back o-or I’ll do it.” he glared though his lip quivered with fear. Suddenly, the guardians were frozen, unsure what to do. It was fine when Peter had the shard pointed at them, but the moment it was held against his own throat was what had them standing stock still. Mantis turned and quickly left to grab someone to help.

“Hey now, don’t do anything stupid Starmunch. We’re just here to help. Can you take some deep breaths? We ain’t gonna hurt you,” Rocket tried, shifting closer but stopping when Peter pushed the shard harder against his throat.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he whimpered, utterly defeated, “the tests, t-the experiments, I’m tired. Either you let me go now or I’ll kill myself right here, right now and you can say goodbye to your precious test subject.” Peter glared, his green eyes shining with unshed tears, his fingers trembling.

They were at a standstill, unsure of what to do. One wrong move was enough for Peter to cut his own throat and there was no recovering from that. They had caged Peter in like a cornered animal, leaving no exit. Rocket glanced at Groot who was slowly extending tendrils across the floor which, luckily, Peter hadn’t noticed.

Rocket took another step forward and that was enough for Peter to suck in a preparing breath as he pushed harder against his own throat, just about to drag the shard across it when suddenly, Groot was shooting out a branch and wrapping it around his forearm, yanking the glass away from his neck.

“No!” Peter cried out when they all pounced on him. Drax was sliding in behind Peter and wrapping his arms around him in a restraining grip, keeping his arms pinned to his sides while Peter kicked and cried.

“Please! I can– I can’t do this anymore. Please let me go, I’m sorry for trying to run! I won’t run anymore. Please– ” he begged, sobs wracking his body as he twisted and strained against Drax’s tight embrace. He hiccuped with his sobs and suddenly Mantis returned with a nurse who had a syringe in her hand.

Peter’s eyes widened when the nurse approached him, fighting with new vigor and Drax grunted against his strength. He cried out as the nurse injected him with the sedative, trying to back away from her but only succeeding in pushing himself further into Drax.

His cries tapered off and weakened as the drugs did their job and eventually, he was slumping in Drax’s arms, head dropped to his chest and leaning heavily against him.

The guardians sighed, releasing their held breaths once Peter was unconscious. Drax moved to sit up, scooping Peter up into his arms as he did. They all walked back to the room, dripping blood on the floor back. Peter’s clothes had been stained from the smudges of blood from the cuts he’d earned.

Drax gently deposited him onto his bed. Suddenly, a nurse was walking into the room with something in her hands. They watched as she attached something to the barriers of the hospital bed before wrapping cuffs around each of Peter’s wrists.

“Woah, woah. What exactly do you think you’re doin’?” Rocket interjected, jumping up onto the bed.

“The patient is a danger to himself. He will remain restrained until we are certain he will no longer be harmful toward himself and others,” she told him as she buckled the last cuff around Peter’s left wrist.

“His name is Peter, and you can’t be cuffin’ him. He just got rescued from a freakin’ lab that had him strapped down to a table and experimented on for four days straight. How d’ya think he’s gonna react when he wakes up and finds himself cuffed to his bed?” Rocket argued angrily.

“It’s better that he wakes up like this instead of doing what he just did. If he wakes up violently again, we will be prepared to sedate him once again,” she told him, demeanor cold. Rocket snarled but the nurse only turned her back and left the room.

“As much as I hate it, she’s right.” Nebula said after she left. “If he wakes up like that again, there’s no saying how much of a danger he’ll be to himself. We’re lucky that he hadn’t just ended his own life the moment he got ahold of that shard. There’s no telling how he’ll react next time. It’s safer this way,” she murmured.

“I don’t like it,” Drax grunted.

“I am Groot,” Groot nodded in agreement.

“With him restrained, I can at least ease his panic if he is to wake up like that again,” Mantis told them, moving her chair so that she could sit right next to his head.

“Fine,” Rocket grunted, sitting down next to Peter's legs on the bed and crossing his arms. “But know that I don’t like this one bit,” he huffed.

A couple of hours later, passing midnight, Peter wakes up again. It breaks their hearts to hear the way he begs and pleads for them to let him go, to not perform more experiments on him, promising not to run again. He pulls at the restraints and his eyes are bright with fear, his breathing fast and sobs escaping him as he pulls at his arms.

It doesn’t matter how many times they assure him that he isn’t there anymore, that he’s safe and he’s back with them instead of there. Peter isn’t all there, he doesn’t hear anything that they are saying. Mantis eventually gives in and urges him to fall back asleep.

The worst part of it all is the way that his heart monitor was incredibly slower than it had been earlier. There were long pauses between each beat and the thumps were weak. He was dying, they weren’t sure how much time they had left.

It was the early hours of the morning when suddenly, the machines attached to Peter were going off alarmingly. His heart rate slowed almost to nothing at all. The guardians stood up and surrounded him, trying to wake him, to keep his heart beating.

Suddenly he was jolting and shaking in his bed once again, another seizure playing out although the jolts and shakes were weak, his body too weak to do more than jolt the tiniest bit. He was deathly pale, his skin cold and clammy to the touch.

“What is happening?!” Mantis cried as nurses surrounded the bed, tapping at datapads and working around him frantically.

“He’s not breathing!” One of the nurses shouted as she began chest compressions. Rocket felt as if he couldn’t breathe, the urge to sob just as he had when Lylla had been killed in front of him was strong.

The guardians pressed closely to each other, huddled off to the side where they could see Peter’s still body in the bed as the nurse continued to perform CPR on him. Suddenly, the monitor was drawing out a long beep and the jumping lines had gone flat.

“NO!” Mantis screamed, throwing herself forward to get to Peter only for Drax to grab her and pull her to his chest.

Rocket couldn’t breathe, his chest was tight and suffocating, his blood running cold and the room growing far too small.

Suddenly, the door burst open and the Krylorian nurse was standing there, her chest rising and falling quickly, a clear sign that she had run there. In her hand was a needle with a clear liquid.

“I have it!” she exclaimed as she raced over to Peter. The nurses stumbled out of the way as she pushed through them. She uncapped the lid and was quick to push the needle into the crook of Peter’s arm, injecting the contents into his bloodstream.

She pulled the needle from his arm and it felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath, unmoving as they watched the flatlining monitor ring.

The nurse performing CPR continued the chest compressions despite the stillness in the room.

Beeeeeeeep… Beep… beep… beep

Suddenly the line on the heart monitor was jumping once again, quicker than it was supposed to be but just seeing it jumping instead of that flat line was enough for everyone to cry out in relief.

“Shit…” Rocket choked out, slumping against the wall and holding his face in his hands, stubbornly keeping the tears building in his eyes at bay.

Mantis was openly crying in Drax’s arms, even the brute had wet eyes. Nebula had stepped away from the others, holding a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries while Gamora breathed steadily, staring up at the ceiling with her hands on her hips, Groot looked incredibly relieved.

The nurses checked his vitals, making sure that everything was stable before they began to leave the room. The Krylorian nurse stayed behind, not wanting to leave him after he had just come so close to dying.

“When should he be waking up?” Gamora asked the nurse.

“Hopefully in a couple of hours. The antidotes are fast acting with poisons such as the one he was injected with. We’re lucky we had that file otherwise he would’ve died just now. And for that, thank you for grabbing it,” The nurse nodded at Nebula who tipped her head. 

“Does that mean we can undo the restraints?” Rocket asked hopefully. He didn’t want to see the panic in Pete’s eyes again when he wakes up restrained. The nurse seemed to mull over it for a moment before nodding.

“Technically we aren’t supposed to but I have a feeling he’ll be okay with his friends here for him.” she smiled and moved to unclasp the leather cuffs. Peter’s wrists were rubbed red from his previous struggling and the nurse smeared some salve on the marks to ease the sting before leaving the room.

The air in the room felt lighter, with the knowledge that Peter would be okay now. There was still the large possibility that Peter was severely traumatized by the torture he’d endured during his captivity on that ship. But they could all help him through that, he wouldn’t have to do it alone. Rocket knows that Peter is going to be his main priority for a long time. Only he will understand exactly what he’d experienced.

But Rocket will be there for him no matter what.

When Peter rouses from his sleep the guardians immediately pause their conversations to watch him. It starts with him turning his face into his pillow, having curled up onto his side at some point after he’d been freed from the restraints.

They thought that maybe he was just stirring but wasn’t ready to wake up. But as they waited, Peter moaned tiredly as he slowly opened his eyes. It felt like a breath of fresh air to see those green eyes without the fear in them, just dazed sleepiness as they tried to adjust to the light of the hospital room.

But as Peter blinked to clear his hazy vision, his eyes landed on them, on his friends. They watched as the shock washed over him, then the realization, then the relief. Suddenly, tears were pooling in his eyes and his face was crumpling in pure relief. 

“Pete,” Rocket breathed and that was all it took for the sob building up in Peter’s throat to come out. At the first sob, the guardians were all rushing forward and enveloping Peter in their embrace, holding him tight and secure. Gamora stood a foot away, chewing at her lip as she watched the display of love.

“You found me…” Peter sniffled, his voice muffled underneath all of the bodies practically smothering him.

“Yeah, Pete. We found ya,” Rocket murmured, his own voice wet. They pulled back after a long second, sitting on the edge of his bed as Peter wiped at his face, drying the tears that had escaped.

“I thought High Evolutionary was gonna take my brain,” he murmured. It had been the last thing he remembered before falling into the endless abyss of nothingness. It felt like he’d been asleep forever, reliving everything he’d experienced on that damn ship over and over again. He faintly remembers running through white hallways, not like the ones on High Evolutionary’s ship, and the sting in the bottoms of his feet as he stepped on something sharp.

He remembers voices, arms holding him tightly, he remembers twitching and shaking and feeling so helpless against whatever was happening to him, he remembers hearing screams and cries, specifically his name amongst those cries, the sound of beeping, feeling sharp pricks in his neck and arms, tight bindings around his wrists. It had all felt like some hazy dream that he couldn’t quite grasp onto.

“We got there before they could,” Gamora told him, and Peter just then seemed to realize she was there. He was surprised to see her there, having expected her to return to her Ravagers the moment the mission was over.

Peter shifted to sit up in the bed, wincing when he felt the pull of something in his stomach. He reached down and lifted his shirt, immediately blanching at the sight of the stitches running up his torso, he dropped his shirt back down and sucked in a choked breath.

“Hey, you’re with us here, Pete. You ain’t there anymore.” Rocket snapped his fingers, grabbing Peter’s attention, knowing all too well what the way his eyes glazed over meant.

“R-Right, right. Yeah– I know…” he cleared his throat, pushing down the lump that had formed in his throat, willing his racing heart to slow down. Suddenly, he remembered another thing.

“The other animals…” he said, recalling the sounds of hundreds of different creatures in the cages.

“All of ‘em are safe. There were more prisoners, both children and animals. We got all of 'em out before blowing that piece of junk up. High Evolutionary is gone, he ain’t comin’ back, Pete.” Rocket assured him, deep eyes sincere, comforting. Peter nodded, dragging in a deep breath. He then looked at Groot.

“I’m sorry Groot, I said I’d be right behind you, I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt when you jumped off,” he said, voice heavy with guilt. Groot shook his head.

“I am Groot ,” Groot insisted.

“What? That’s not true, Groot. It wasn’t your fault. It was just bad luck, y’know?” he smiled reassuringly. His eyes then shifted over to the table across the room, the file sat atop of it, closed but knowing what was in it made it feel all the more haunting.

“What’s that?” Peter questioned. Nebula looked over at the file, standing up and walking over to it. She picked it up in her metal arm and crushed it in her hand like it was nothing, sparks flying as she did.

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiled. “What matters is that you’re okay now,” she said.

Peter was released from the infirmary a day later after having another checkup which he had tried real hard not to freak out over, luckily the others had sat close by his side, Mantis holding his hand and sending contentment through her empathic abilities.

He was given a list of things to keep track of, he had to reapply that salve on his stitches every day in order for them to heal nicely and avoid leaving scars, he had a strict diet he needed to be on in order to regain his strength that he had lost from malnutrition, he had been given pain killers to help with the ache that was his entire body, and finally, he was given bandages for the cuts in his feet from the glass he’d broken.

After that, he was sent to his home in Knowhere. The guardians had refused to leave his side, even Gamora to his surprise. It took him convincing her it was okay for her to leave in which she finally gave in, smiling at him and telling him that she was happy he was okay.

“I bet we were fun,” she had said before stepping onto the ship.

“ You wouldn’t believe it,” he had smiled, tears threatening to build up in his eyes. 

It took him convincing the others that he’d be okay if they went and caught up on some much-needed sleep for them to finally, but reluctantly, leave to their own cabins. Mantis had squeezed him tightly, but gently, in a hug before leaving to her cabin and he doesn’t know if it was Mantis sending her love to him through her abilities or just the hug that succeeded in making him feel so incredibly warm with love.

Rocket, on the other hand, refused to leave Peter’s side. Peter was grateful for that but he didn’t admit it. He tried getting Rocket to leave and get some shut-eye but the Raccoon had straight up refused, insisting that “Someone needs to keep an eye on your reckless ass.”.

Rocket left briefly to bring stuff from his cabin back to Peters, telling him that he’d be bunking up with him for a while, not because he was worried or nothin’ but just because it was smarter to stick together after everything that had happened. Peter knew the truth.

In the time that they had been gone, Kraglin had repaired their cabins from Adam Warlock's destruction so the windows were no longer broken.

Peter was weak, it showed in the way he had a slight limp to his step and he had to lean against a wall multiple times during the trip back to his cabin. Rocket hadn’t commented on it, only sat next to him while he regained his strength to continue the walk, feigning indifference even as he eyed Peter with worry.

Once they got to the cabin, Rocket forced Peter to sit down on the edge of the bed so that he could change the bandages around his feet. He watched the way Peter’s head dipped tiredly, dropping to his chest before shooting back up as he jolted from the pull of sleep.

“Here, take these. They should help.” Rocket told him as he handed him two pills and a cup of water. Peter rubbed his eyes tiredly before reaching out and taking the cup and pills, throwing them back into his mouth and swallowing them down.

“You don’t have to stay Rocket. You guys slept in uncomfortable chairs for nearly three days, I understand if you want your bed. And knowing you, I doubt you slept at all while I was missing.” Peter insisted but Rocket scoffed.

“Just shut up and go to sleep, Quill. I ain’t leavin’ and that’s final.” he grumbled as he curled up into a ball next to Peter’s bed, closing his eyes and keeping his back to him in a way that said this conversation is over, shut up and sleep dammit.

Peter smirked in amusement and rolled his eyes, accepting that Rocket wasn’t going to listen to a damn thing he said. So with a sigh, he pulls his bandaged feet up onto the bed and shifts under the covers, sinking into the mattress with a sigh.

It doesn’t take long for him to give in to the pull of unconsciousness.

A choked cry jolts Rocket from his light sleep. He had learned to sleep lightly so as to never get caught off guard, even more so now with him guarding Peter while he slept. So the moment he hears the strangled cry his head is shooting up and his ears are twitching.

He looks over the edge of the bed and immediately sees the way Peter was breathing far too quickly, his head tossing side to side and fingernails digging into his arms, dragging long red lines down his skin. He was stuck in a nightmare.

Rocket quickly jumped up onto the bed and grabbed Peter’s face in his paws, holding it still to prevent him from throwing it back and forth anymore.

“Hey, Pete! Wake up, buddy. You’re just dreaming,” he spoke gently, urging Peter to pull himself back to reality and escape the nightmare in his head. Suddenly, those green eyes are opening and locking onto him, relief washing over him as soon as he sees Rocket.

“Shit…” Peter murmurs, reaching up to rub at his face.

“Tell me about it,” Rocket grumbles in agreement, he knows far too well what Peter was feeling. The nightmares always feel so real, the pain always feels so real, it’s suffocating all the way until you’re waking up gasping for air as if you had been drowning.

“I’m sorry, I woke you up,” Peter sniffles, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“No, you didn’t. I was already awake,” Rocket lies. He hesitates for a second before he’s crawling into Peter’s arms and curling into a ball. Peter stills, not expecting to get an armful of raccoon, and yet he isn't complaining. If anything, he's incredibly grateful for the contact, finding it grounding as he sinks his fingers into the fur.

“Is it ever gonna get better?” Peter murmurs. Rocket sighs.

“Not exactly. But it gets easier. It’ll never go away, and I hate that you have to deal with this now on top of everything else you were already dealin’ with. It took me years to stop havin’ nightmares every single night. But I was also alone for years before I met Groot.” Rocket tells him. 

“Now that I think about it, I think Groot was the one who chased away the bad memories. He was who brought me the life I have now, a life of freedom. And then I met you guys, and you showed me what family is. Something I had been missing for my entire life.” Rocket recalls. “But you’re not alone, Pete. You’ve got us whereas I didn’t have you guys in the beginning. So to answer your question, yes. It will get better because you aren’t alone, and we will all be here to make sure that you’re okay. That, I can promise you.” 

As Peter listens to Rocket's words, he feels the suffocating weight that had been squeezing his heart ever since he was taken by High Evolutionary lessen. A smile spreads across his face and he allows his eyes to fall shut once again, feeling warmth that he hadn’t felt since he was taken. The warmth of love and safety. For the first time in a long time, he knew that he would be okay.

“I believe you.”