InsaneJournal

She’d arrived late. Such was Nebula’s way. She didn’t exactly feel comfortable going to a large celebration that was full of humans she didn’t know and probably wouldn’t like, but The Doctor had insisted and while she was out of the habit of being told what to do (and still a little drunk on the luxury of it), there was still a little voice in the back of her head that told her to obey men of authority in her life. It was something to revisit on her long, metaphorical list of things to work on. For now, though, she focused more on getting through the evening. The Bonfire was meant to celebrate treason and Nebula found that to be more interesting and understandable than holidays that centered around candies and food. Remembering someone who’d done something so bold with fire seemed fitting and the sort of celebration that she could get used to.

Nebula felt the urge to case the scene before really entering, wanting to secure the area from trouble. It was an old habit that she didn’t especially begrudge; it’d gotten her out of bad situations alive in the past and wasn’t one she was likely to ditch anytime soon. There was a blaster attached to her hip and one knife in each boot and Nebula’s empty hands felt itchy for a weapon as she made her way to the barn where the crowd was gathering. Her eyes darted from person to person, disliking how much she stuck out to anyone who might have been looking for trouble. She reassured herself that these terrans weren’t a threat; she could kill most without difficulty if it really came to it and they were supposed to be peaceful, anyway.

There was a large pile of wood that she passed that she assumed was going to be the focus on the night and the sun was setting, the sky streaked with deep red clouds that hovered on the horizon. There was a scowl on her face, the same one she wore when not in the safety of a solitary place. Nebula paced the area until she felt secure enough and then separated herself from the crowd, wondering if coming here had been a bad idea.

At the very first moment the Doctor spotted Nebula, he grinned and tilted his head upward, ready to call out to get her attention, but something distracted him. Her demeanor was all wrong for a celebration, tense, upset, looking like she was either ready for a fight, or inviting one. She was out of her element, and yet the Doctor was surprised that she’d made the effort to come, anyway. For a moment, he thought, then making his decision, he trotted over to where the TARDIS was parked.

A few minutes later, he’d located Nebula by the woodile. “Nice night if you’re a pyromaniac,” he joked as he approached, a large box tucked under his arm.

There was the barest hint of relaxation in Nebula’s stance as the Doctor approached, her shoulders still tight but slacker than they had been, her eyes focusing solely on him instead of surveying the area for trouble. Though he was strange and they argued about half the time they spoke, Nebula was very fond of the Doctor and found some comfort in his presence. She'd hoped he would find her eventually at this celebration, if just to be around someone familiar. Nebula was out of her element on Earth and she'd yet to really find a place where she was comfortable. She eyed him for a moment, glancing at the box but not commenting on it. “I guess. It doesn't seem like rain.” She watched the terrans milling about, finding their ease in such scenarios curious.

The Doctor’s eyes flickered momentarily to the cloudless skies, and agreed, “Hrm. Definitely no rain in the forecast. Ought to be good for the fireworks. Have you seen fireworks before?” It was a good question - given her background in battle, she might react unfavorably, no matter how colorful they were.

“No,” Nebula responded, face neutral. “What are fireworks?”

“Imagine explosions,” the Doctor began, putting the box down upon the ground so he could hold up his closed hands and then theatrically opening his fingers to mimic what they looked like. “Bursting in the sky!” His arms rose high above his head where his hands shook. “But not as a weapon to attack anybody, although I’m sure it could be used as such. But what you’ve got are flashes and showers of light, which humans look at and marvel, traditionally saying, ‘Oooooo! Ahhhhhhh!’ as a way to celebrate special events, like their New Year or holidays like this one.”

Nebula frowned. “Trust humans to turn weapons into… celebrations.” The picture in her mind's eye didn't do fireworks justice, but she supposed that she'd get a look at them anyway. “How many holidays do they have?” she asked. “Why are there so many?” Nebula had a bad habit of asking lots of questions because there was a lot she didn't know. They'd never celebrated anything growing up save for the deaths of their many enemies. Thanos had seen to that.

Half-shrugging, the Doctor said, “You can look at it positively. It shows the nation is at peace enough that instead of shooting them at each other, they’re shooting them into to sky for entertainment. How many? I’d say there’s enough for practically every day of the year, if we really looked at it. Remember, this planet has a diverse amount of nations and cultures, each with their own reasons to celebrate. This particular nation where we’re in, the United States, is special because it hypothetically accepts the people and cultures from all over, and with them came their holidays. The next biggie is in a few weeks, Thanksgiving. It’s your usual sort of harvest feast sort of deal, where you’re supposed to reflect and be thankful for what you have… which hypocritically is then followed by what may be one of the most greediest, but somehow still the most joyus holidays I’ve ever come across, Christmas.”

Nebula seemed to need a moment to think on that, looking distracted by what he’d said. This planet was interesting, but very complicated and she suspected she’d never truly understand the terran way - especially since it seemed as though there were many ways to be a terran. “You mentioned Christmas,” she said after a brief moment. He’d mentioned presents and having one for her and though it was a kind gesture, it made Nebula slightly anxious. Was she supposed to return the gesture? What would one get the Doctor, who seemed to have and know a great many things. “Do they… have all of these celebrations because they cannot leave the planet? Boredom?”

After a moment’s pause to consider Nebula’s question, the Doctor replied, “No, I don’t think so. Earthlings, at least in my universe, don’t really start exploring space for centuries from now. They don’t know any other life than the one on this planet, and what little trips astronauts have made off this planet is a mere curiosity for most of the population. No. I think these Earthlings have so many holidays is because when they were still quite simple in their culture and technology, life was so hard. Life expectancy was low, they had to fight to survive. So these celebrations… were a celebration for living. Most of them have simple beginnings - Christmas, for example, was once Yule, a celebration to mark the winter solstice, when the nights began getting shorter again, the days longer. It was a festival to ward off the cold and beseech the warmth of the sun to return, but gradually it evolved, as did they, to the holiday they celebrate now. Presents were given as a fun surprise, a way to show how much one person meant to another.

“By the way…” The Doctor reached down and picked up the box he’d placed on the ground, and handed it to Nebula. “This is for you. Happy Bonfire Night, or whatever. I reckoned I’d give this to you before Christmas, because it’s a practical sort of gift that you might need now.”

Inside the box was a black leather jacket. “It’s a little more Goth than it is punk, but I thought it would suit you.”

Nebula listened to the Doctor speak, surprised by what he was saying. She had a habit of underestimating humans - they were soft creatures, and few of them could stand up to her in battle. For the longest time, that was her only real measure of a person. How strong they were, how high their death count was, whether they were a threat or something to be ignored.

She watched someone unfamiliar pass by and her hawkish gaze softened slightly. Having to fight to survive, that was something Nebula knew well. She hadn't any time or leisure for celebrations. Thanos would have punished her for such insolence as to suggest such things. But she saw the virtue in such gestures and suddenly felt that she might want to find a way to mark the fact that in spite of all the odds, she had made it through hard times. She'd survived her family, and countless other siblings that Thanos had stolen. Why not do something to celebrate that?

Then there was a box in her hands and her thoughts shifted and she regarded it curiously. Carefully, she tore it open and looked inside. For a moment, she held the garment out and looked it over. She looked to the Doctor briefly, felt a swell of unfamiliar emotion, and then stared back at the jacket, trying to decipher why she felt awkward near him suddenly. Nebula put it on wordlessly and stretched it out, rolling her shoulders and moving her arms, the fresh leather stiff against the movement.

For a moment, the world blurred and Nebula’s vision wavered. She blinked rapidly to steady everything around her. “Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice, not quite meeting his eye. She did not know the etiquette in such situations, nor could she understand the weird feeling that came over her. She only knew that this had to be the first present she'd ever received, perhaps since before Thanos, and that she was torn between feelings of wanting to wear it and wanting to hide it so no one else could take it away.

The Doctor was a master at hiding his emotions, so to watch Nebula struggle with hers made him very self conscious and considerate for her feelings. Knowing what sort of person she was, and that she’d be upset with herself for such a display, he played it cool - first by pretending not to notice, looking away as if something in the crowd or the bonfire had caught his attention, and second, by downplaying his own response. “It’s cool,” he said, with a flippant wave of his hand. “It’s what friends do for one another. More than friends. Family.” Because that’s what the Doctor felt about Nebula - she’d become part of his extended family of Companions.

Nebula’s head had been bowed while the Doctor spoke but she straightened when he called her family, blinking at him wide eyed for a long moment. Family was complicated and didn't hold especially good connotations for the young woman who'd first been ripped away from her family and then forced into dysfunction and abused that called itself family.

Things, she realized suddenly, could change. Family could mean something better, though it felt a little scary and overwhelming to even consider the possibility. She nodded at the Doctor, hoping he could understand that she understood, even if she couldn't really articulate herself well in the moment.

For a moment, the evening went on around them and they stood in a companionable, if awkward silence. Then, because Nebula could feel the possibility of discomfort if this quiet lingered too long, she cleared her throat and said, “When do they light the fire?”

Scratching the side of his neck, the Doctor glanced toward the pile of wood. “Any moment now, I suspect. We ought to watch it from a distance, apart from everybody else. You get a better view of everything that way.” He knew Nebula wasn’t inclined toward crowds, so this gave her a good excuse not to join the rest, to feel comfortable, but also included.

“Alright,” Nebula’s eagerness probably making it quite obvious that she'd much rather shy from the crowd than linger among it. Without waiting on another word, she started to walk, turning back eventually only to make sure that she was followed.

After they found a quieter spot, a slight distance from the crowd but not too far away, Nebula looked on as someone lit a torch and the blaze went up. She very nearly smiled and remained close by the Doctor, not quite touching but almost. “It's a good celebration,” she said with a little nod, as glowing a review as she was likely to give it.