Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be an ordinary day for Marty, just like any other. He would have a boring day at school, go home, be ignored by his family… The only bad part was that he wasn’t scheduled to go to Doc’s that day. He’d been working for the scientist for nearly two years at that point, and he’d like to say they’d gotten pretty close in that time. They had even seen each other at their lowest points a few times, though that wasn’t something the boy anticipated happening today.

However, when he got home after having a stressful day at school- they had an exam in biology the next day and he just knew he would flunk it- to find his parents sitting next to each other on the couch, he figured he was in trouble. Sure enough, his mid-term report card had come in the mail and his parents were not happy with his grades. They even threatened to make him quit working at Doc’s if he didn’t pull them up! So Marty spent the whole afternoon in his room pouring over his science textbook until dinner was ready, and when they were done eating he went back and kept going. He had no idea what they were covering in the exam, so he read the whole thing cover to cover. By the time he was done it was nearly three a.m. He was exhausted, and even after staring at the damn book for hours he couldn’t remember a thing he’d read. He was going to fail this stupid test, and then he’d fail the whole stupid course, and then he’d never be allowed to see Doc again- he could feel his breathing begin to grow fast and shallow, his vision blurring at the edges as tears gathered in his eyes- he was having a panic attack.

Marty scrambled for the phone and dialed his friend’s number as fast as he could with his shaking hands- the scientist was usually awake at odd hours of the night, anyways, and even if he was asleep he always said Marty could call him for anything, right? He probably wouldn’t be angry, but what if he was, he’d never been mad at Marty before- he shouldn’t have done this- but before he could put the phone back on its cradle, Doc picked up on the other end of the line.

“Marty!” There was only one person who would bother to call him this late. “What are you doing up at this hour? Isn’t it a school night?”

Marty groaned lightly- school was the last thing he needed to think about, right now. “D-Doc, Doc-” his voice was cracking with tears and it was obvious he was out of breath, “It’s- I’m, ah- it’s,” finally fed up with his own stammering, Marty burst out, “It’s a c-code- code red, Doc…”

In his garage, Doc’s eyes widened. Him and Marty had come up with the color-code system only a few months ago when Doc got sick and didn’t want the boy to come over and risk catching it- he couldn’t tell him over the phone since he lost his voice, and he was worried about a note being blown away, so he left a green handkerchief tied to the doorknob- Marty didn’t get it at first but after he heard Doc have a coughing fit through the door he got the message. The next time they met up they came up with more colors and meanings, and a code red was the most serious of all- a panic attack.

Knowing Marty wouldn’t be able to make it to the garage in his current state, Doc made a decision. “Alright, you’re at home, correct?” Once the boy confirmed with a strained ‘uh-huh,’ Doc continued, “Stay put, I’m heading over.” He got in his van and drove no less than ten miles over the speed limit the entire way to the McFly residence, and once there he let himself in through the back gate and knocked on the window he knew belonged to Marty’s bedroom. After all, he had seen the boy sneaking in through this same route plenty of times after accidentally staying too late at the lab. When Marty opened the window he was clearly still in the throngs of the attack- his breathing was labored, his body was shaking, and there were tears streaming down his face.

Once Doc helped him regain control of his breathing he seemed significantly more at ease, the shaking reduced tenfold and the tears having slowed to a few occasional drops, but it was obvious whatever started the attack in the first place was still bothering him. “What happened, Marty? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

The boy huffed out a humorless laugh. “No, Doc, ‘m fine, it’s just…” Marty rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, the mid-term report cards came in today and my folks weren’t exactly thrilled about my grades. They said if I don’t get my act together that I can’t go work for you anymore, but they can’t do that, Doc! Spending time with you is even more fun than band practice with the Pinheads!” Emmett was touched by how much their time together meant to the boy, but before he could express as much Marty continued, “So I figured I’d study for the bio exam I have tomorrow but nothing wants to stick, it’s just… in one ear and out the other. So now I’m gonna flunk the test and then I’ll flunk the class and then I won’t get to see you anymore.” If he hadn’t been in such a crummy mood Marty might’ve been embarrassed by how whinny he sounded. As it was, he barely even noticed.

Doc smiled softly and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Marty, if our lab time was affecting your grades you could’ve just said so.” Before he could open his mouth to protest Doc held a hand up to stop him. “I won’t ask you to cut down on visits or anything like that, but I’d be more than happy to tutor you,” This made Marty look down in thought.

“...I didn’t think of that,” he said sheepishly. Doc chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“It’s quite alright. How about you try to get some rest, we can talk more about it after you get out of school tomorrow, alright?” Marty nodded sleepily, seeming tired out after the emotional ordeal he had gone through, and the two friends bid each other goodnight before he closed the window. As Doc headed back to his van, he couldn’t help but muse to himself- as much as he hoped Marty never had to go through distress like this again, Emmett was glad he was the one the boy trusted enough to call for help.

Chapter Text

If Emmett was honest with himself, this wouldn’t be the first sleepless night he’s had since he decided to quit taking LSD. While it may not have addictive properties like most other drugs did, it still took a toll on the user’s mental state. So if someone, for example, stopped using it cold turkey because they were worried about how it was affecting the teenage boy they suddenly found themselves taking care of, they might suffer from symptoms such as insomnia and paranoid episodes. Like Emmett currently was. He picked up one of the desktop clocks from his collection to check the time and sighed when he saw it was already four in the morning. It was looking like another all nighter for him…

When he went to put the clock back on the table he accidentally knocked it over in his sleep deprived state, causing it to shatter against the ground. He tensed and waited for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tell-tale sound of Marty’s cot creaking, but with a space as small as the garage he supposed that was too much to hope for. He crouched down to try and clean the broken glass so that nobody would step on it and it only took a moment for the silent night air to be interrupted by the sounds of socked feet and a groggy “...Doc?”

As soon as Marty realized what happened he rushed over to help clean up the broken pieces. Doc may have thought he was being subtle but, really, Marty had been aware of his withdrawal symptoms for a while now. Between the late hour, his already frayed nerves from being stuck in the wrong decade, and his feelings of guilt about several things concerning Doc, his friend’s insistent apologies about waking him up and having him help with the mess were getting on his nerves, and as much as he regretted it in hindsight he snapped.

“Would you stop apologizing already!? Jesus, Doc, it’s probably more my fault than yours anyway! I’m the reason you started using that damn stuff in the first place!” And as much as Marty knew already that it was true, seeing the color drain from Doc’s face as he sputtered to come up with a way to deny it still stung a bit. When he finally found his words, Marty cut him off. “It’s okay, Doc, I already know. In my timeline you never woulda even thought about touching that stuff, so it must’ve been something I did in the 50s that made you start taking it, right?” The shameful expression on his friend’s face told Marty all he needed to know, and once he was sure they had gotten all of the glass shards he stood up to dump them in the trash can before plopping down on the couch.

A moment later, Doc joined him. “I’m sorry I yelled. I guess I’ve just been sorta stressed lately.”

Emmett sighed softly and placed an arm around his younger friend’s shoulder, tucking him into his side. “...you have nothing to apologize for, Marty. It’s perfectly understandable for you to feel pressure in a situation like yours. In fact, if I were in your shoes, I probably would’ve lost my cool a lot sooner.” He feels, rather than hears or sees, when Marty starts sobbing, so he pulls the boy into his lap and rubs his back soothingly. After maybe half an hour his crying dies down into miserable sounding hiccups and eventually just quiet breathing, having apparently tired himself out enough to fall asleep. Emmett carried him back to his cot with little difficulty- he was awfully short for his age- and tucked him in, smoothing his hair away from his face with a soft smile. “Get some rest, future boy.”

Chapter Text

When Marty blearily wakes up, it takes him a moment to realize what happened. The stupidity of it makes him groan- his past self must’ve hit him with the gym door when he was heading to the square. It’s a little ridiculous that there was enough force behind it to knock him out, but he had been in a hurry the other day and the door was made of metal…

Marty went to check that his forehead wasn’t bruising too badly only to find he couldn’t move his hand. He looked down, seeing that he was tied to one of the wooden chairs that he had seen at the dance- and he was tied tight, too, he could already see the red marks of rope burn around his wrists. Well, that burn was only going to get worse. He tried to wiggle his wrists out of the rope or get the knots to loosen for a few minutes, and when he heard a door open behind him he only struggled even harder.

“I’d hold still if I were you, Klein.” It was Biff! He should’ve known, who else would be stupid enough to kidnap someone in the middle of a school? Marty felt him rest an arm on his shoulder and tried to shrug it off, though he wasn’t successful. Biff held up the almanac with his other hand and held it in front of Marty’s face. “You thought you could get away with stealing from me? Huh? Forget the damage to my car, you coulda cost me millions, you ain’t gettin’ away so easy this time.”

“Go to Hell, Biff!” Marty tried harder to squirm out of his restraints, to get away, get out- but he went still when he felt cold metal pressed against his neck. Well, he knew why Biff was keeping his arm there, now…

“I told you not to move!” He swallowed harshly, and Biff pressed the knife further into his neck. Marty winced when he felt a trickle of blood drip towards his shoulder and had to fight every instinct he had to not struggle again. “You’re gonna learn to listen, you little shit, or you’re gonna hate what I do to you even more than you wou-” but suddenly Biff’s arm was yanked away from him, and Marty let out a relieved breath of air. “What the Hell!?” He turned his head just in time to see Doc knocking the bully out with the same weird thing he had used on Jennifer in the future.

As soon as Biff was dealt with Doc turned his attention to the boy who was still tied to a chair. “Marty, are you alright!?” He picked up the pocket knife Biff had with a grimace and cut the ropes as quickly as he could before dropping the damned thing.

Marty couldn’t help the relieved tears that sprung to his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his friend, who immediately reciprocated the hug “Doc! Oh, man, am I glad to see you! How did you find me?”

Doc pulled away with a concerned expression. “Well, when you didn’t show up on the roof like you said you would and didn’t check in to let me know the plan had changed I got worried. I figured the best course of action was to search for you-” His eyes widened as he noticed the thin line of red on Marty’s neck. The cut was still sluggishly bleeding. “You are hurt! Why didn’t you say something?”
Marty smiled gently at his friend, but instead of letting him look at the wound he went over to Biff. With a scowl he snatched the almanac from his pocket. “Can we just get outta here, Doc? I wanna go home.”

Doc blinked, a bit taken aback by his friend's bluntness, but then his expression softened. “Yes, of course. I suppose it can wait until after we get back to our proper time.”

Chapter Text

When Griff and his gang got sent to prison on October 22, Marty Jr. figured his worries were finally over. The group were the only ones who ever actually bullied him, especially physically, and the only reason the other kids at school avoided him was so they wouldn’t suffer the same fate. So now that they were gone he won’t have to worry about getting harassed every day and he could finally work on getting a social life beyond his blood relatives and Doc, right?

Well, he was half right. It’s been two months since Griff got put in prison and MJ finally had some friends, in fact he had made plans to see a movie with some of them since school had just gotten out for Christmas break. But even though he hadn’t been beaten up in ages his body was still hurting like he had just seen Griff’s gang yesterday. He had noticed that the pain was lingering back in October but he figured it would just go away on its own eventually. Now, though, when there are still days where he’s hurting so bad he can’t do anything except lay in bed even though it’s been two months? Maybe it was time to talk to his dad about it…

So when Marty got home from the studio that night MJ pulled him into the living room and told him about what’s been going on. He was sympathetic, of course, just like he’s always been to MJ whether it was for something small like a nightmare when he was little or something bigger like finally getting the guts to say who it was that bullied him all those years once Griff couldn’t reach him anymore. Marty explained that it was probably because of the bionic overloads the bully had and then said he knew exactly the person who could help.

MJ didn’t expect Doc to be who walked through the door about half an hour later but, honestly, he probably should’ve. Doc had him lie face down on the couch and started to massage his back and it felt like he had never gotten hit in his life. Even a rejuvenation clinic wouldn’t have been as thorough. Doc even had acupuncture needles with him, but MJ decided that just the massage was plenty. He was a little jumpy around needles, anyways.

“Where did you learn to do that stuff, Doc?” MJ asked when he was done. As far as he knew most scientists thought stuff like acupuncture was mostly superstition, and why would Doc need to know how to give a massage like that anyways?

The man chuckled. “Well, when your father was around your age there was a bit of an incident involving a horse. He ended up getting dragged behind it by a rope for quite a bit, and he had a similar issue with pain for several weeks afterwards. I learned it to help him out.”

MJ’s eyes widened hugely. “What in the world was happening that my dad ended up getting dragged behind a horse!?” Of course, Doc just said it was a very long story and would have to wait for another time, just like Marty and him always did when one of them said something crazy like that and then MJ or Marlene asked about it. Still, even if he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what was going on with his dad and honorary uncle, he was grateful they helped him out with this.

Chapter Text

The thing about sleeping in Doc’s old bed in the workshop, aside from the insulation in that building being awful, was that it was hard to keep the area secure since there were so many entrances. But if anything happened Doc and Clara were close enough that they could come running as soon as Marty screamed.

Of course, when Marty wakes up to a dirt caked hand clamped over his mouth so tightly that even he can barely hear his scream, he realizes that proximity won’t matter. Doc and Clara could’ve been in the same room and not heard him, though they probably would’ve been woken up by his defiant efforts to get out of the hold the stranger had on him. He could smell the whisky on his breath and as he desperately tried to claw at the man’s arms to get away he could feel blood beading up under his nails, but the man only grunted and tightened his hold, and when Marty kicked his feet out he only succeeded in knocking spare parts and blueprints all over the place. He thought, for a moment, that he had finally gotten the upper hand when he was able to grab the edge of Doc’s workbench, but the wood was worn smooth from use and his fingers slipped off the top of it.

The man laughed at his efforts, making Marty’s nose wrinkle at his awful breath. “That the best ya got, Eastwood?” Finally he was able to recognise the man through his voice- it was one of Buford Tannen’s goons, though he didn’t know any of their names. “Guess ah was right when ah said you were the runt.” Marty’s face scrunched with anger at the name and he reached behind him, twisting his arm at a painful angle to try and grab at the guy’s head. The goon only laughed again.

The goon dragged Marty all the way to the door, and for a sickening moment Marty thought that this would be how he died, eighty-three years before he was even born and with nobody to explain to his family what happened to him. Only Doc would know, but without Marty to provide a reason would he even want to fix the time machine anymore? He wondered if Seamus and Maggie would go to his funeral.

Except, when the man stepped over the threshold of the entrance he tripped on some sort of wire and fell, pulling Marty down with him. It looked like the wire was attached to one of Doc’s weird Rube Goldberg machines, because only a second later there was the extremely loud sound of several pots and pans banging together. It only took a moment for the sound of heavy footsteps running down the stairs to join the noise, and suddenly there was Doc at the bottom of the stairs with the fancy gun he had saved Marty from being hanged with aimed towards them, presumably at his captor’s head.

“Let him go, Ceegar. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what this firearm is capable of.” Finally, the arms that were wrapped around Marty released him and he immediately ran to Doc, who hid him protectively behind his back. He could see the man running away and winced slightly. Surely if he was this determined to get back at him he’d come back? Doc must’ve heard him, because he turned around and put a comforting arm around him. “Not to worry, Clara went out the other door to alert Marshall Strickland. Ceegar won’t make it far.” Then he cupped Marty’s face to inspect him, but nothing seemed amiss except for the dirty handprint over his mouth. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Marty shook his head, finally finding his voice. “No, no. I’m fine, Doc, just startled I guess.” He looked towards the tripwire with confusion. “What was with the alarm?”

Doc grinned sheepishly. “Ah, well. Marshall Strickland had contacted me earlier today, actually, to let me know that Ceegar somehow escaped his cell. I didn’t want to worry you so I set up the alarm as a precaution, just in case he came back to get revenge for getting arrested.”

Marty rubbed the dirt from his face and arms with disgust. No wonder the guy was so dirty if he had been on the run for however long. “Yeah, well, maybe a bit of warning would be nice if something like this happens again, alright Doc?”

Doc ruffled his hair. “Yes, of course. I should have done it in the first place, I know, but you’ve already been having such a hard time adjusting… Ah, well. What’s done is done. For now, let’s get back to bed. Though I’d prefer if you stayed upstairs with me and Clara until Ceegar is caught again.”

Marty yawned and smiled sleepily. “You’re the Doc, Doc.”

Chapter Text

If a blind man walked into Emmett Brown’s laboratory even he would probably be able to tell that the man was tripping his ass off. He was currently sprawled out on the couch, shirt half undone and head tilted back to stare intently at the ceiling, though nobody else would be able to see anything interesting about it. His dog, Newton, was laying near his feet, completely oblivious to the inebriated state of his owner. Emmett was so out of it, in fact, that he forgot about the existence of the thin table behind his couch with a few decorations on it until he had already moved his arm back and knocked over a vase that was left to him by his mother.

Emmett jumped at the noise and, when he realized what caused it, cursed under his breath. He didn’t have many things left from his parents because of that damn fire everyone thought he set himself… maybe the vase was still salvageable?

A short walk around the couch proved that it was definitely beyond repair, having shattered into countless little shards. He was glad that the noise of it breaking hadn’t woken Newton- it would be tedious enough to gather up all of the pieces without having to keep him from trying to investigate and getting glass stuck in his nose or paws. Emmett carefully began picking up the pieces, trying to avoid getting any stuck in his hands, and after several excruciating minutes of cleaning the glass and then combing the area to make sure he hadn’t missed any he was finally sure he got it all. He stood, cautious not to spill any of the glass from the sizable pile he now had in his left hand, and made his way to the trash can.

But, of course, it was at the last minute that Emmett got careless. When he went to brush the glass from his hand into the garbage he managed to push several shards into his palm, which made him hiss out in pain. As soon as the remaining glass was disposed of he went to grab his well-stocked first aid kit- you could never be too careful when your experiments were known to explode, after all. Before anything else he took a few Tylenol- he knew this was going to hurt like a bitch. Then, he grabbed some tweezers and sterilized them before beginning the arduous process of digging out each miniscule shard of glass. The feeling of metal inside of one’s flesh was never a pleasant one, and Emmett winced every time he accidentally pushed a piece further in rather than wedging the tweezers underneath it like he was trying to. Once he finished with that painful process he put some salve on the small cuts and then bandaged his hand.

When he was finally through with everything he headed back to the main room and plopped onto the dusty couch with a sigh, making the old thing creak ominously. Emmett attempted to relax again but he couldn’t help but think of the time Marty showed him that all-important flier while he sat on this very couch’s matching chair. Their brief time together left a profound impact on the man- though, at the moment, these thoughts were the very thing that had him reaching for his old friend Lucy.

Emmett sighed and stood again, resolving to just take another sheet of it. After all, today was November 12, and he really wasn’t in the mood to be sober on the tenth anniversary of his only friend leaving him.

Chapter Text

Marty hadn’t seen George all day, and he was starting to get worried. After his visit the night before he had wondered about whether he used too much chloroform on his dad, but hopefully he just overslept. As if summoned by his thoughts, Marty saw his dad hurrying towards him. When he reached the gas station he swayed unsteadily and Marty put his hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Woah, George, hey, where’s the fire? What happened, you weren’t at school today?” Marty was beginning to feel guilty- George really didn’t look good, and he couldn’t help but think he was the cause.

George swallowed hard enough that Marty could see it and opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a groan as he lost his footing again. Marty quickly put the soda down and wrapped an arm around his dad’s shoulders. “Are you alright?? Jesus, you look pale… c’mon, let’s get to Lou’s and get you an ice water, okay?” He helped George cross the road to the diner, and when he saw the large crowd inside he sighed. “Ah, jeez. Okay, you sit here and I’ll come back with some water, I’ll try to be quick.” Once he had helped his dad sit on a bench he hurried inside.

It took longer than he would’ve liked to get Lou’s attention, but once he did it was a thankfully short wait for the water. The gruff man didn’t even complain about him taking the glass outside once he saw the state George was in through the window. Marty got back to his dad as soon as he could and handed him the glass, which George started drinking from like a man traveling through a desert. “Woah, hey, don’t drink so fast you’ll make yourself sick!” …It was weird giving his dad the same advice he’d been given when he wasn’t feeling good. Thankfully, George was less stubborn than he was.

Once the glass was empty George put it down next to him and ran his hand through his hair shakily. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to make you worry, I just- I didn’t feel good when I woke up, my hands felt all numb and I had already slept through school-” He looked up at Marty suddenly, with wide eyes. “You won’t believe what happened to me last night! An actual alien, called Darth Vader, came down from the planet Vulcan and he said if I don’t take Lorraine out to the dance he’s gonna melt my brain!”

Marty noticed an older couple give them a strange look and winced slightly. “Okay, I do believe you, but how about we keep this brain melting stuff to ourselves, yeah?” Once George agreed, he continued, “Lorraine’s in the diner, I saw her when I was getting your water. You can go ask her to the dance as soon as you’re up to it.”

George smiled gratefully at him, clearly glad he wasn’t being made to do it when he was still too shaky to stand. “Thanks, Marty. You’re a great friend.” For some reason, the guilty pit that had been sitting in his stomach since he first saw his dad only felt heavier at those words.

Chapter Text

Marty’s anxiety had been so bad for the past few nights that he couldn’t sleep at all. Doc still being in the hospital after getting into a motorcycle accident had been destroying him, and it was even worse since his doctor refused to let Marty spend even one night because “you’re old enough to take care of yourself, you’ll be fine.” Needless to say he didn’t get along very well with the man.

Tonight was the first night that Doc would be able to spend at the garage in nearly a week and Marty couldn’t tell which of them was more relieved about it. Hopefully he would be less wound up once he’s gotten a good night's rest, so after they eat dinner and watch a movie that’s on tv- some cheesy horror flick neither of them had even heard of- he’s all too happy to change into some pajamas.

It’s blissfully easy to fall asleep but it doesn’t take long for his subconscious to decide to shake things up, giving him the same nightmare he had when a girl in Doc’s class had a seizure during school and he wasn’t able to let Marty know where he was. In it he’s home alone all day while Doc is at work but when the sun begins to set and he still hadn’t come back Marty got concerned and went to investigate. He only had to walk for a few moments before he found Doc’s Harley lying in the middle of the road- and Doc’s body was a few feet away from it, his limbs twisted in impossible angles in a massive, sticky puddle of blood. Marty went to crouch at Doc’s side only to back away in horrified disgust when he sees his head- split open and with brain matter spilling onto the road in front of it.

It’s his own screaming within the dream that finally wakes him up and he immediately bolts for the bathroom to lean over the toilet as he throws up. The nightmare was so much more vivid this time- it felt so real, in fact, that when Doc comes into the bathroom to check on him he startles so badly that he knocks the back of his head into the wall, which hurts so badly in his fraught state that he has to lean over the toilet again.

Doc doesn’t say anything, just wets a rag to put on Marty’s neck and then sits next to him to rub his back. When Marty is finally finished there are tears streaming down his face, and he leans into Doc’s chest as he’s wracked with sobs. They stay like that for a long time before his crying finally dwindles down into the occasional sniffle, and Emmett gently wipes the tear tracks off of his face.

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Emmet asked, trying to make sure it’s clear that he won’t be upset if Marty says no.

Marty shakes his head, and when he speaks his voice is hoarse and cracks from how dry his throat is. “Same as last time, but worse.” Doc makes a noise of sympathy at that before gently pushing the boy away from him so that he could stand before helping Marty do the same.

“Let’s get you some water, throwing up uses up a lot of fluid and crying so hard likely exacerbated it.” When he heard Marty mumble an apology as they made their way to the kitchen he fondly ruffled the boy’s hair. “No need for that, I’d much rather you allow yourself to feel your negative emotions than bottle them up the way I did at your age. I only meant that it’s important to take care of our body’s afterward.” Once Marty was sitting comfortably at the table Emmett swiftly made a glass of ice water to put in front of him before returning to the kitchen and making some instant mashed potatoes for his friend- not only was it a food he had noticed Marty liked- he said it reminded him of home- but it would also be easy on his stomach, which was a win-win for them.

Marty smiled gratefully when Doc placed the mashed potatoes down in front of him, and by the time he was done with that and his water it was clear the boy was exhausted. Emmett put the dishes in the sink- they could wait until the morning- and then helped Marty into his bed. He remembered how the boy had lied awake for over an hour before finally asking if he could sleep in Doc’s bed so that he could reassure himself of his friend’s safety, and Emmett would be damned if he let that happen again.

His young friend was already half asleep when he had finished pulling a blanket over him, and Emmett smoothed his hair down fondly. Marty stirred slightly and, with a voice drenched in sleep, quietly uttered, “...g’night, Dad…”

Emmett’s hand stilled in Marty’s hair as he felt icy shock take over his body, but then he smiled softly and leaned down to gently kiss the boy’s forehead. “Goodnight, future boy.”

Chapter Text

When Griff came up to Marty Jr. and demanded he be given all of MJ’s money, the smaller boy wasn’t trying to stand up for himself when he said he didn’t have anything. He had been saving up for an expensive set of alcohol markers for months and had just saved up enough for them that morning, so he went out to buy them before school. The markers were, thankfully, safely placed in his locker, so he honestly didn’t have anything on him that Griff could take. Of course, that didn’t stop the bully from getting pissed off at his answer, and MJ was held down by one of his gang members as the larger boy advanced on him.

When MJ walked through the front door of his house he was hoping he’d be the only one home, or at the very least that nobody would notice the automatic ‘Welcome Home, Martin’ that announced his presence so that he could get upstairs without anyone grilling him about his shiny new black eye or any of the other injuries that were clearly visible. He was lucky that Marlene had a pride club meeting or he would have no way to avoid being found out.

Unfortunately, fate wasn’t on his side. He hadn’t made it two steps before he heard his father yell, “Hey, Junior! Wanna help me with dinner?” MJ nearly face-palmed but remembered at the last moment how hurt his face was. He had completely forgotten that today was his dad’s day off.

“Uh, yeah, s-sure thing, Dad.” He shuffled into the room nervously, trying to mentally prepare himself for the cascade of questions he was sure Marty would have for him. Thankfully, his dad’s head was buried in the fridge as he searched for something, so he had a bit of extra time.

“So how was school?” Marty asked as he leaned out of the fridge to grin at his son, but as soon as he saw MJ his easygoing expression was replaced by one of concern. The first thing he noticed was the extremely dark bruise surrounding his son’s right eye, making his eye shut slightly where it was beginning to swell. Then he noticed the smaller things- a split lip, a bruise on his jaw, fresh scrapes and bruises running down his arms, and even some cuts visible where his jeans were now ripped. He quickly made his way to his son, the fridge shutting itself behind him when he neglected to do it himself. He gently cupped MJ’s face in his hands to tilt his head up and get a better look at his wounds. Finally, he spoke again, “...who did this to you?”

Despite his father’s soft tone MJ could tell he was furious at what happened, and he flinched slightly. When he didn’t say anything for several moments, Marty sighed softly. MJ had been bullied since pre-school but always refused to tell anyone in their family who did it. Once, Jennifer was able to get him to confess that he kept quiet because he was too afraid that letting them contact the school about it would only make things worse for him. Thanks to his past time traveling escapades, though, Marty had a pretty good idea of who was doing this to his son. He was secretly counting down the days until Griff would get what was coming to him.

He smiled softly at MJ, but his eyes were still clearly filled with worry. “Okay. That’s alright, you don’t have to tell me. Let’s get some ice on this before the swelling gets any worse, yeah?” He ruffled his son’s hair fondly before heading back to the fridge so he could get an ice pack out of the freezer. MJ went to the bathroom for a moment before coming back with the first aid kit and sitting at the table with it. Marty handed him the ice pack to hold to his eye before getting to work cleaning up and wrapping his cuts, staying quiet aside from asking MJ to switch hands once and then to hold still when he dabbed the blood off of his lip. When he was done wrapping his arms and the few cuts on his legs Marty placed all of the first aid materials back into the canvas bag before standing. He motioned for MJ to stand, too, and once he did he pulled him into a gentle hug.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, you know that, right? I know you don’t want your mom and me to go to the principal about it, but we can still help. And so can Marlene, you know how intimidating she can be.” He felt MJ huff out a small laugh and smiled. “You just have to let us in, honey.”

MJ slowly pulled away and wiped the tears from his good eye. “Yeah. I-I promise I’ll try to be better a-about it. I guess I’m just s-sorta used to dealing with it alone, ‘c-cause Marls is sorta the only one at s-school who cares about i-it.”

Marty’s brows furrow in concern. He knew his son wasn’t very popular- he imagined fear of Griff’s gang had something to do with it- but wouldn’t the faculty care, at least? “What about your teachers? Like- your art teacher, Mr. Kennedy, you always go on about how great he is. Wouldn’t he be able to do something?”

MJ shook his head slightly. “I-it would just get them s-suspended for a few days. Then wh-when they get back…”

His dad sighs again. “Right. Okay, just… we’ll try to figure something out. Why don’t you go get some rest or something in the meantime? I can handle dinner, I’d rather you stay off your feet for today.” MJ nodded and got up to head to his room, but just when he crossed the threshold Marty spoke up again. “Hey, Junior?”

MJ poked his head through the door to look at his father, who was smiling softly. “Yeah, Dad?”

“I love you, kiddo.”

His son smiled back. “Yeah, I know. I love you too, Dad.” As he headed upstairs to finally use his new markers, MJ’s chest felt warm. He didn’t know what he’d do if his family wasn’t so caring.

Chapter Text

Marty just knew before he even walked through the door of his home that he was in trouble. He was getting home over an hour past his curfew because as soon as he had left Lee’s house after band practice it started pouring and he couldn’t use his skateboard to get home. The rain also slowed his progress, and since Lee lived pretty far away Marty didn’t make it home until past midnight, which was not something he wanted when his mother had already given him an extra hour when he complained about his 10 pm curfew making him miss out on valuable practice time.

He quietly nudged the front door open, hoping that against all odds Lorraine would’ve fallen asleep before he was supposed to be back, but the way the main room reeked of booze proved otherwise and made him shiver. He hesitantly stepped into the living room, and when his mother saw him she glared before setting down the whiskey she had been drinking straight from the bottle, something Marty knew she only did when she was really upset.

“Where. Have. You. Been.” Marty flinched slightly at his mother’s dark tone, but when he opened his mouth to explain himself she cut him off, “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been!? When I called Lee’s mother to ask why you weren’t home and she said you had left when you usually did, I nearly called the police! You know better than to be out this late, Martin Seamus, what on Earth were you thinking!?”

Marty stammered out an explanation before she could talk over him again, “I’m really sorry, Mom, but it started raining as soon as I left their house so I couldn’t skateboard! I would’ve asked for a ride if I knew the weather would be bad, I swear!”

Lorraine was not having it. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me right now, Martin! I should never have let you get that death-board in the first place, do not use it as an excuse!” Marty takes a half-step backwards, which seems to only make his mother angrier. “I don’t know why you bother going to those stupid practices, anyways! Everyone in Hill Valley knows that your music is never going to get you anywhere!” Her son shrank into himself, looking wounded, and Lorraine stared at him coldly for a moment before sighing and speaking again, thankfully not yelling this time. “Go to your room, Martin. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the week, and don’t even think about going anywhere but straight home or to work after school.”

As soon as he had been given permission Marty scurried off to his room, not bothering to stop and get a towel despite still being soaking wet from the rain. Tears began to pool in his eyes and he futilely tried to wipe them away. As soon as his door shot he made his way to the window and shoved it open. He didn’t care if his mother noticed that he left and he got in even more trouble, he didn’t care that it was still raining cats and dogs, he refused to just sit in his room and cry like a wuss. He left his skateboard next to his bedroom door. If someone did notice he left, hopefully it would reassure them that he wasn’t running away or something, but he doubted anyone would. They never had before, after all.

The trip to Doc’s house took much longer than usual because the rain slowed his progress, so by the time he got there it was already one in the morning. Marty felt slightly guilty for showing up at his employer’s house when it was so late, but the feeling was diminished when he saw that the light was still on in the workshop. He tried the door but, predictably, it was locked, so instead he knocked loudly to be heard over the rain.

Doc looked highly confused when he opened the door, but as soon as he saw his young companion his expression switched to one of concern. “Marty, what in the world are you doing out in the rain at this hour?” The boy opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a whimper as tears began to fall down his face. Doc’s worry only grew and he gently led his friend inside with a hand on his back. “Come on, let’s get you dried and then you can tell me what’s wrong if you feel up to it, alright?” Marty nodded shakily and allowed himself to be steered towards the bathroom.

Throughout the process of drying himself off and changing into some of Doc’s pajamas Marty’s tears refused to stop flowing. He half-heartedly wiped at his face as he stepped out of the bathroom, but the tear tracks he erased were swiftly replaced with fresh ones. As soon as he was back in the main room Doc handed him a warm mug of hot chocolate and gently directed him towards the couch. They sat quietly for a bit as Marty drank the beverage, and by the time he was done with it he finally stopped crying.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened now?” Doc’s soft tone in contrast to his mother’s harsh one was nearly enough to make Marty tear up again, but he held himself together and explained to Doc what had happened, starting with him leaving Lee’s house and ending with him sneaking out the window to come to the garage. He grew nervous when mentioning his mother’s drinking habits, it was something that he’d never mentioned at the garage before, but if Doc had something to say about it he kept it to himself for the moment. The older man visibly flinched at some points when he recounted what Lorraine said to him, particularly about his music prospects. But as much as that statement had hurt him, Marty was more focused on what his mother said afterwards.

“She’s never told any of us to stay out of sight when we were in trouble, not even when I set the living room rug on fire. I-I’m scared, Doc. What if she kicks me out, where am I supposed to go?” He could feel his breath growing quicker, and Emmett placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before he could begin to hyperventilate and become breathless.

He smiled reassuringly at his friend, “Marty, I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s likely that your mother was simply overly emotional due to her inebriated state.” At the kid’s blank look, Doc grinned slightly and amended, “She was angrier than she would’ve been because she had been drinking. I find it highly unlikely that she would kick you out simply due to getting home late.” When Marty didn’t look convinced, Emmett sighed lightly and placed an arm across his shoulders comfortingly. “Worst case scenario, you’re always welcome here. I was actually thinking of getting a cot for you since you fall asleep on the couch so often. And…” Doc leaned over for a moment to get something from the small coffee table, and when he leaned back he had a shiny key in his hand- it looked like it was made recently. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but now seems like the right time. It’s a key to the garage, that way you can get in even if I’m not home.”

Marty gently took the key and looked at it with blatant reference before looking up at Doc sheepishly. “...would it be okay for me to keep it under the mat or something? I think I might lose it if I take it with me.”

His friend chuckled slightly. “Yes, I imagine that will be fine. Most people prefer to keep their distance, so we shouldn’t have to worry about anyone finding it.” He looked at the clocks and frowned. Marty had nearly been there for an hour, and with Lorraine already upset at him… Doc stood from the couch. “Come on, we should get you home. I’ll drive you so that you don’t have to walk through the rain again.” The kid nodded and stood to follow him, tripping slightly on the too-long pajama pants. It was obvious he felt much better than when he first got to the garage, and the late hour was starting to get to him. When they got to his house Doc lent him an umbrella so he wouldn’t get wet again, and as soon as he got in through the window he flopped onto the bed and was out like a light.

The next morning, which was thankfully a Saturday otherwise he definitely would’ve gotten another tardy slip, Marty was woken up by the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. He turned to see who it was, expecting to see his dad or one of his siblings there to tell him mom was gone and he could come get breakfast, and was surprised to see Lorraine herself at the door. He spoke awkwardly, “...Mom?”

His mother looked at him with soft eyes and sighed slightly before coming into his room and sitting on the edge of his bed. He tried not to flinch when she reached a hand towards his face, knowing she would never hit him, and she carded her fingers through his hair gently. “When your Uncle Joey was around your age…” she trailed off, and Marty looked up at her expectantly. She sighed again, before continuing, “When he was around your age he stayed out past his curfew. Your grandmother wanted to call the police after an hour, but your grandfather convinced her to wait a bit longer. They were just about to make the call when they heard a knock at the door, and there was a police officer there already, with Joey. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and later we found out he had a sprained ankle, too. The officer told them that they found Joey trespassing in a construction site, and that he was lucky someone called about seeing suspicious figures otherwise Joey might’ve been stuck laying there all night after he got hurt. That’s why I was so upset when you were late- I was worried that you might’ve gotten hurt, like he did.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did, honey. I’m sorry.” Marty’s eyes widened slightly- seeing his mother admit that she was wrong was a rarity.

“It’s alright, Mom. I get it.” She smiled gently and ran her hand through his hair one last time before standing.

“I’m going to go back to bed- don’t be afraid to call Doc if you don’t feel up to working today, alright? I’d hate for you to avoid catching a cold in that rain only to get sick from working when you’re tired.” She shut the door softly behind her, and Marty sighed slightly. He was still hurt- what Lorraine said about his music was out of line, and he was still grappling with the anxiety he felt the night before when he thought she was angry enough to kick him out. But he was sure that he would mean it when he said he forgave her. Eventually.

Chapter Text

When Marty was woken up by a bright light hitting his eyelids he thought he had left the blinds open. Opening his eyes revealed that wasn’t the case- in fact, it was only two in the morning according to the clock on his nightstand. In reality the light was coming from the hallway, leaving the tiny figure standing in his bedroom doorway shrouded in darkness. His expression softened as soon as he saw the young boy hesitating in the hall.

Marty sat up and spoke softly to avoid waking Jennifer, who was still sleeping next to him. “Did you have a bad dream again?” MJ nodded, and a huff of air escaped his father’s nose. He wasn’t annoyed at his son, of course- he knew Junior couldn’t help it. He just wished that the pediatricians they went to took him seriously when he said the amount of nightmares the boy had was not normal so that they would actually do something about it. He stood slowly from the bed so that he didn’t disturb his wife and then went out to join his son in the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.

MJ immediately grabbed his dad’s shirt, prompting Marty to lift him up and hold him against his chest with a small groan of struggle- the twins would likely be too big for him to do this, soon, and he had no clue how time flew so quickly. He was broken out of those thoughts by his son’s quiet voice, still teary from his dream. “...C-Can you sing the s-song for me?”

His dad smiled softly at him and switched course to stop by their small studio. “Course I can, bud.” He stepped into the studio and adjusted his hold on MJ so that he could grab the old acoustic guitar Doc had given him many, many years ago before heading to his son’s bedroom. Marty leaned the guitar against Junior’s nightstand for a moment so he could tuck his son in before settling into the small desk chair MJ sat in when he drew. “...Do you wanna talk about your dream?” MJ shook his head, but it seemed he was thinking of his nightmare anyways as tears began to pool in his eyes. Marty immediately rolled closer to the bed so that he could pull his son into his chest, the small boy sobbing quietly into his shirt. Marty kissed the top of his head softly and ran his fingers through his hair, whispering a reassuring, “I’m sorry, it’s okay, I’m right here…”

They sat like that until Junior calmed down, then Marty tucked him back in. “Do you wanna hear your song now?” When his son nodded he grabbed the guitar and, after making sure it was tuned, played the softer version of the opening chords so that he could start singing. “Close your eyes…have no fear…the monster’s gone, it’s on the run, and your daddy’s here… beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy…”

By the time he was done with the song MJ was already asleep, but Marty stayed next to his bed and played a few more non-conventional lullabies so that he could make sure no nightmares would interrupt his son’s sleep again. It wasn’t until he finished the sixth song that he stood and tenderly brushed the hair out of Junior’s face so that he could lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. He turned the lights off on his way out, leaving a starry night light that Doc had made him as the only source of it in the room, and smiled lovingly at his son before going to put the guitar back where it belonged. He was more than willing to miss out on a bit of sleep if it meant his kids wouldn’t have to.

Chapter Text

“George!” Marty was running after the too-young version of his father, but he only sped up. “George, wait!”

He turned to look at him, but continued running. “Why do you keep following me!?” Marty finally caught up and rested a hand on his dad’s shoulder, but George shook him off and backed away with a glare. “Get away from me!”

Marty never would’ve expected how much it hurt to be scorned by his dad like this. It felt like his glares and remarks were toxic; dragging Marty into a poisonous despair. He shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of the awful feeling. “Look, I’m telling you, George, if you don’t ask Lorraine to that dance, I’m gonna regret it for the rest of my life.”

George’s glare hardened and the time-traveler nearly flinched from how forceful it was. He didn’t even know his dad had it in him to be this angry. “I can’t go to the dance. I’d miss my favorite television program, Science Fiction Theater.”

“Yeah but, George, Lorraine wants to go with you. Give her a break.” Marty’s desperation was beginning to leak into his voice despite his attempts to remain casual. He doubted it would’ve worked, anyways- no normal person was this invested in the love lives of two people he just met.

His dad’s expression finally softened slightly, and it felt like a massive weight was lifted off of his chest. Maybe having a pushover for a father wasn’t so bad- it was definitely better than the possibility of having that awful glare directed at him on a regular basis. But George began backing away again, this time towards the front door of his house. “Look, I’m just not ready to ask Lorraine out to the dance,” his gaze hardened again, “-and not you, nor anybody else on this planet is gonna make me change my mind.”

When George slammed the front door behind him Marty flinched. He had never seen his dad so angry- he was always anxious in the future, avoiding confrontations like the plague. There was a heavy weight in his heart- no, he didn’t like having that fearsome glare directed at him in the least. He checked the picture of him and his siblings- Dave was much more faded now.

He thought about that family that saw him when he first got to the fifties, freaking out because he looked so strange. “...Science Fiction Theater…”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t uncommon for Marty to hear rumors about his best friend while he was at school. When he first started to get to know Doc he would lash out at anyone who he heard badmouthing him, but his friend assured him that the rumors didn’t bother him and that it was better to just ignore them. This time, however, Marty felt that the students at Hill Valley High School had gone too far.

All that anybody could talk about that day was the rumor that Emmett Brown had been a scientist on the Manhattan Project. One sophomore even claimed to have a picture of him standing with other researchers from the project- including Oppenheimer himself. Of course, when anyone asked to see it she said she had left it at home. Marty was certain she was making it all up, but nobody would listen to him. He has known Doc for over a year now, he knew him really well, there was no way he was involved in something like that. And Marty was going to prove it.

As soon as school let out he went straight for the garage, not even stopping to try and flirt with Jennifer Parker like he usually would. When he got there he opened the front door with maybe a little more force than he meant to, but he was a man on a mission. He saw Doc tinkering with one of his clocks at the workbench and headed over, not even greeting him before asking, “Doc, can I ask ya about something?”

Emmett startled as he looked up- he hadn’t heard Marty come in. “Oh! Ah, good afternoon Marty! Yes, of course, you know you can ask me anything.” He placed the clock he had been working on down and stood, going up to his young assistant and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What can I help you with?”

Marty shuffled a bit awkwardly- he knew that the other kids were lying, but still, it felt like a pretty heavy thing to ask somebody. “It’s just… there’s this rumor going around at school, and I know you said not to pay attention when people talk bad about you but some girl kept saying she had a picture that proves it and I know that’s bogus and-” Sensing that his friend was beginning to spiral, Doc gently grabbed Marty’s other shoulder.

He smiled reassuringly at his friend. “Calm down. What on Earth are they saying about me that has you so upset?”

His assistant gulped and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before hesitantly asking, “...Were you a part of the Manhattan project?”

Emmett’s smile fell instantly, replaced by wide-eyed horror. His hands fell from his friend’s shoulders to hang limply at his sides and his vision swam. He stumbled slightly, only saved from falling by Marty placing his hands on his arms to help steady him.

The young man looked at Doc with wide eyes, filled with concern and fear. “...Doc?” The man turned towards Marty, his heart aching at the thought of what his reaction to the truth will be. He thought they would have more time together. “Doc, are you okay?”

Emmett sighed heavily as Marty hesitantly moved his hands. He swiftly moved them back when Doc began to sway again. “...I think I need to sit down.”

“Yeah, alright, that’s a good idea.” He helped Doc reach the couch without falling and then sat down next to him. Marty looked at his friend expectantly.

The older man sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “You have to underst-” his breath got caught in his throat and he cleared it before starting over. “You have to understand, I had no idea what I was signing up for. Not really.” He looked at his young assistant and nearly looked away again when he saw the terrified realization beginning to show on his face. But he needed Marty to know he was being genuine. “All they told us was that the project would help the war effort. They didn’t give us any details until we were officially put on the team, but even then I assumed that we would simply be using them as a scare tactic. I was young, and naive, and I assumed the Japanese would surrender after witnessing the test. They-” his voice broke again, but he was on a roll and he worried if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to get the rest of what he wanted to say out. “They didn’t surrender, and hardly anyone who helped make them was alright with the outcome being what it was, but we didn’t have any authority over what was done with the bombs once we had finished creating them.”

Marty was silent, staring at his friend in blatant horror. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that his classmates were right. A million thoughts were running through his head, but he was startled out of his reverie when Emmett gently placed a hand on his knee. “That was a long time ago, and I didn’t know any better, and-” his desperation was beginning to leak into his tone as tears pooled in his eyes. “-I would never hurt you, Marty, not in a million years. I wouldn’t hurt anybody else, either, for that matter, but…” The tears began to fall down his cheeks and he stubbornly wiped them away. When he spoke his voice was resigned, like he had already come to terms with Marty not believing him. “Please say something…”

The teen gulped, finally finding his voice when he heard how hurt Doc sounded. “I know- I know that you wouldn’t hurt anyone, Doc. I’m not gonna leave or anything. I just-” he raised his arms slightly in frustration. “I just don’t understand why people can’t leave you alone! You’re right, that was a long time ago, and everyone knows how top-secret it was when it was happening so it makes sense that you wouldn’t know anything until it was too late to back out. But that girl is going to bring a picture of you standing with the other scientists to school tomorrow because I called her a liar when she didn’t have it today, and everyone is going to see it, and-” He wrapped his arms around Emmett’s chest tightly, gripping the fabric of his shirt. He was trying desperately to convey how much Doc meant to him- he would never leave him over something like this. “I’m so sorry, people are gonna start saying even worse stuff about you and it’s all my fault…”

Emmett was frozen in shock for a moment, but as soon as he regained his senses he reciprocated the hug just as tightly. “You have nothing to apologize for. Just knowing that you’ve tried so hard to stand up for me- knowing that you’ll continue to do so- it’s more than enough to make up for anything bad that may come of this”

Chapter Text

It was incredible to Marty that a whole year had passed since his first time-traveling adventure. One year ago today he nearly prevented his own existence, watched his best friend get shot multiple times, nearly doomed the future by being selfish, saw Doc get struck by lightning and thought he had just watched him die again, went back to save him, and had to leave him behind- at least, if you don’t count the time he spent in different decades. And all of that was barely scratching the surface of what happened!

He knew, now, that what he had gone through was extremely traumatizing. At the time he had no memories of the new version of his family, no Doc to confide in, and no idea how to deal with his brand-new anxieties and nightmares. Luckily he started to get memories of his family after a few months- and since helping Emmett reconcile with his dad in the 30s made him stay in HIll Valley he now had memories of a timeline where he didn’t have to go through all of that alone. Doc was really great about helping him out with the stuff he knew Marty got anxiety from, like seeing how awful Hell Valley was or nearly getting hanged by Buford when he first got to 1885. But there were some things that he’d rather not tell his friend, too worried that he would feel guilty about something that wasn’t really his fault.

Marty’s most horrific and frequent nightmares all had one common theme- Doc dying. He was tormented by what-ifs nearly every night- what if Doc didn’t tape the letter together after he ripped it up, what if Marty missed when he threw the pie pan at Buford, what if he was electrocuted to death when he was trying to send Marty home…

He knew that Doc knew about this stuff, but it felt wrong to bring his attention to it. Plus, from how he explained it, in the timeline Marty was from there would’ve been no letter to warn him, and so he wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest. So Marty did see his best friend die- shot down in cold blood in that parking lot. So even if Doc could understand a bit of what he was going through- Marty knew that his duel with Buford freaked his friend out, even if he never mentioned it- it was just… different for him.

Of course, the Anniversary Effect that Doc warned him about had made his nightmares even worse than usual the previous night, and his intrusive thoughts weren’t quieting down now that he was awake. He knew, as he walked down the hall towards the main living area, that it would be hard to pretend everything was alright in front of his family, but he hoped it would at least be easier than when he first got to this timeline and didn’t know anything about them.

He could hear Dave and Linda arguing about the phone again and his parents talking about his dad’s new novel was coming along. There was some detective story playing on the radio, but nobody seemed to be listening to it. Marty took a deep breath, plastered on a fake smile, and walked to the table. “Good morning, guys.”

A chorus of ‘good morning’s were returned to him, though his siblings were much less enthusiastic than George and Lorraine. He thought he was doing pretty well acting normal, and was able to get through half of his breakfast without incident. That was around when the detective in the radio program got into a shootout with a culprit.

Marty hadn’t really been paying attention to the radio, but as soon as the gunshots started he sat rigidly in his seat, startled enough that he teared up as memories of that night a year ago flooded his brain- Doc telling him to run for it, Doc’s gun jamming, Doc trying to surrender, Doc getting shot, lying on the ground, dying, he can’t do anything to help, his best friend was dead-

“Marty, are you alright?” He was broken out of his thoughts by Lorraine, who was looking at his expression with concern. He quickly blinked away the tears that were lingering in his eyes.

He smiled at her, but it was strained. They could probably tell it was fake. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” He attempted to sound nonchalant, but he was too tense to be convincing.

George frowned worriedly, clearly seeing through him. “...if you aren’t feeling well maybe you should stay home today, I’m sure Doc would understand if you needed a day off-”

“I said I’m fine.” Marty dropped his fork on his plate and stood from the table aggressively. It was nice, usually, that his parents cared so much about him now, but there was nothing they could do to help him. Not with this. He didn’t bother cleaning his dishes and stomped towards the door, grabbing his skateboard from where it was leaning on the wall. “I’m going to the garage.” The door slammed behind him, causing everyone at the table to flinch slightly as they stared after him, bewildered by his horrible mood.

Chapter Text

It was sort of a relief that Marty didn’t have to put much effort into avoiding his ancestors. After he had woken up on the ranch it didn’t take long for him to realize that he should get out of there before he managed to somehow prevent his own existence again. So as soon as Seamus had walked him to the train tracks he planned on completely isolating himself from the man, which was pretty easy to accomplish since Marty hadn’t seen him in town once.

Until the festival, at least. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the damn thing- Doc dragged him along after he told Clara that they’d be there, but Marty would much rather be back at the stable making progress on their plan to get home. Seeing Seamus and Maggey only made his mood worse, and he had to fight a grimace when Seamus saw him and waved.

Marty waved back, hoping that would be their last interaction, but to his horror Seamus turned to say something to his wife before heading towards him while she watched disapprovingly. That was another reason to avoid these McFlys- for some reason, Maggey seemed to hate him.

Seamus, on the other hand, grinned as he walked up to Marty. “Why, Mister Eastwood! Nice surprise ta see ya. I see yeh’ve got yerself some respectable clothes, lad. And a fine hat!”

“Yeah, well, a couple of people didn’t like the way the other one looked on me.” He chuckled awkwardly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other- he really didn’t want to risk talking to his relatives. “Hey, it was really nice seeing you again, but-”

His ancestor cuts him off, “Oh, do stay and chat fer a bit, will ya?” His expression turned somewhat troubled. “Those people ya mentioned… they wouldn’t have been Tannen’s gang, would they?”

Marty looked for a moment like he was going to try to excuse himself again, but instead he sighed resignedly. “Yeah, they thought I was you. Then I accidentally dropped a spittoon on Buford and- well, they really didn’t like that.”

Seamus’ eyes went wide. “How on Earth did ya manage ta do a thing like that by accident? They didn’t hurt ya, did they?” He studied Marty intently, obviously looking for any signs of injuries.

The younger one cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Ah, well, he sort of… dragged me behind his horse… and then he tried to hang…me…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Seamus’ horrified expression, and quickly tried to wave off any concern. “But I’m fine, really! Doc was able to save me. Obviously, I guess, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

This did nothing to stave off Seamus’ growing concern. “Be that as it may, Mister Eastwood, ya surely still got hurt when he dragged ya behind him! And ya still have that bump on yer head-” He reached for the back of Marty’s head, but when the boy flinched he hesitated a moment and let his hand drop to his side. Somehow, he seemed even more worried now.

He looked at the boy expectantly for a moment, thinking he would explain his reaction. When Marty remained silent he sighed. “Look, Mister Eastwood, I know that we haven’t known each other long. But I also know that the blacksmith- good a man as he is- is very absentminded. He likely didn’t even think ta check over you after all that, did he? And ya obviously didn’t ask him ta if this is how yer acting.” The boy looked somewhat guilty, and Seamus took that to mean he was right. “Maybe ya could’ve dealt with the bruises on yer own, but no man can see the back of his own head.” His worried expression softened slightly. It was a bit strange that he was so worried about a near stranger, but he had this feeling about the boy- it was as if providence had brought them together. “All I want ta do is make sure that yer okay, lad. Do ya trust me?”

Marty hesitated- he really should try to keep his distance from his ancestors, but… God, he hurt so bad. Him and Doc had both been more worried about figuring out how to get home than making sure he was okay after they first met up, and now he was also busy with Clara- even if he thought it was a bad idea for them to get so close, Marty didn’t want to take time away from them, not when he knew Doc would have to leave her in a few days. So he never mentioned the aching in his arms, legs, and back, or the pulsing headache he could feel originating where he hit the fence on the McFly farm, or even the lingering soreness in his throat and neck- and Doc never asked, too preoccupied to even realize that he should. Not that Marty blamed him- he was just trying to get them home.

Rather than stating his answer, Marty simply took off his hat. Seamus brightened slightly at the silent permission, and stepped behind him to gently push aside his hair to look at the wound on the back of his head. “This needs to have meat put on it. It’s swelling something fierce. Can ye not feel that?” The boy looked slightly ashamed but remained quiet. Seamus frowned at him slightly. “If yer in pain then you really ought ta tell somebody, Mister East-”

“-Clint,” he interrupted suddenly. “You can call me Clint.”

Seamus felt his face soften, and the annoyance was gone when he spoke again. “Alright, Clint then. Ya can’t just keep it ta yerself when you’re hurting. Otherwise it’ll just keep getting worse.” Marty looked guilty again, and Seamus eyed him suspiciously. “Ya aren’t hurting anywhere else, are ya, lad?” The boy’s guilty expression only grew, and his ancestor sighed again. “Lad…”

Marty looked down, ashamed. “Doc’s just been really busy, I didn’t want to distract him.” When he looked up again, Seamus was looking at him expectantly, and his shoulders slumped in resignation. “My body is sore from getting dragged around by the horse and last I saw it was covered in bruises, my throat still hurts from when Mad Dog tried to hang me, and my legs are really sore but I can’t even remember when that happened.”

Seamus gave him a hard look, but relaxed a bit when Marty shrank into himself slightly. He wasn’t angry at the kid- he was just worried. “Alright, I’m going ta tell Maggey that I’m leaving early and then yer coming back to the farm with me. We have meat there that I can use ta help with yer head, and then I’ll check over everything else to make sure yer alright.”

The younger one’s eyes widened in alarm. “No, wait, I can’t do that! Doc and I have this- it’s sort of- it’s hard to explain, but I have to be here.”

His ancestor looked at him dubiously- he wanted to be sure the boy wasn’t just trying to avoid getting help. But Marty seemed genuine, so he sighed. “Alright, fine. But if ya don’t come with me, we’re going ta go find yer blacksmith friend so ya can tell him that you need help.” It wasn’t a question, but Marty nodded.

Doc was a little upset that he hadn’t said anything sooner, but apologized to Clara for having to leave early and took him home. They saw Buford Tannen going in as they were heading out, so it was probably for the best anyways. And even if Doc was mad when he realized that Marty had a concussion and could’ve been seriously hurt if they hadn’t done something about it, both of them were grateful for Seamus’ interference.

Chapter Text

Seeing Doc sprawled out on the couch in the middle of a trip had been a daily occurrence in the two weeks Marty had been in this time period. Today was strangely hot, especially for Autumn, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he had never seen this version of his friend wearing anything except for long sleeves until he walked past his friend and noticed strange brown lines running the length of both his arms.

He stepped slightly closer to get a better look at them and realized that they looked like some sort of scarring, but he had never seen them before. Growing concerned, he decided that even if Doc was out of it he couldn’t wait until he sobered up to get answers about this. “Doc, what the hell are those?”

Doc looked up, his eyes slightly glazed, and gave Marty a confused expression. “What’s what?”

Marty was beginning to freak out a bit here- had he not noticed? Was it some sort of disease that wasn’t around any more in the future or something? Still, he tried to stay calm. “On your arms, Doc. What’s that brown stuff?”

His friend looked down at his arms before turning back to Marty with a confused expression. “They’re Lightenberg figures. Surely you’ve seen my arms in the future?”

Now it was Marty’s turn to look confused. “Well, yeah, I’ve even seen you full-on shirtless ‘cause you accidentally spilled some chemicals on yourself once, but I definitely would’ve remembered seeing those. What even are Lit- Lict-”

“Lichtenberg figures.” Doc interrupted, and the look of realization that crossed his face finally made his friend relax some. “Of course you haven’t seen them, I wouldn’t have had them in the original timeline.” Marty was beginning to worry that this was some sort of side effect from LSD, but when his friend looked at him with a bemused smile he figured that whatever caused it couldn’t be that serious. “Lichtenberg figures are caused by the destruction of capillaries in the skin when a large amount of electricity courses through a person. I got these on the night I sent you back to the future because a plug came undone and I only barely had enough time to reattach it. I was still holding on when the lightning struck.”

A look of horrified realization was the only response Marty gave for a moment. He couldn’t comprehend how nonchalant Doc was being about this- hell, he was even still smiling! His words got stuck in his throat a few times, and even after clearing it his voice was quiet and broken. “...So it’s my fault, then. That you got these scars. You got hurt ‘cause of me"

Emmett finally sat up slightly and looked at his friend with worry, though his eyes were still slightly unfocused. “No, Marty, of course it’s not your fault. I chose to risk myself that night. I suppose I felt assured that I’d be alright since you knew me in the future, but in hindsight that was a stupid conclusion since you nearly erasing your existence proved the future wasn’t set in stone…” Marty whimpered and Doc promptly shut his mouth, realizing that his rambling explanation was only freaking the poor boy out more.

It seemed, for a moment, like that was all they would say on the matter, but then Marty brokenly said, “I’m so sorry-” and was cut off by his own sob. Startled, Emmett stood from the couch to put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. As soon as he did Marty latched his arms around him and buried his face in his chest.

Doc reciprocated the hug and gently rubbed his friend’s back, but he hesitated to try and comfort him with words again. He could feel the LSD still affecting him, and his last attempt to help had gone so poorly… but Marty didn’t seem to be calming down, and seeing him so upset was hurting Emmett immensely. “Please, don’t think for a moment that I blame you for this. I should have predicted that there was a chance of debris interrupting the cable with how bad the storm was.” He felt Marty shake his head against his chest, and sighed slightly. This approach wasn’t working.

…but he couldn’t just let his friend go on being so upset by this. “I don’t mind them, you know. They’re a good reminder that what happened that night was real. Besides, if helping you get back home now would mean getting some more scars I would do it in a heartbeat. It’s clear you’re miserable, and I doubt you would’ve been any happier living here twelve years ago.”

His words didn’t seem to do much to help, and Doc kicked himself for being high during this conversation. Normally it was much easier to help Marty calm down when he got upset, but currently he was having a hard time gathering his thoughts because he took that damned drug. As the future boy sobbed into his chest, Emmett made a promise to himself then and there: he would never take LSD again. Not when it was affecting his ability to take care of Marty.

Chapter Text

It had been over an hour since his brutal gym class and Marty was beginning to worry. After a few kids had been disruptive at the beginning of that period so the couches had been extra hard on them that day, and everyone had been out of breath by the time the bell rang. The issue was that Marty was still having a hard time getting air into his lungs.

By the end of the day his chest was burning slightly and he still had no clue what was causing it. He skated to Doc’s like he usually did, but when he got there he was struggling to get any air into his lungs and his chest felt like it was on fire. Beginning to panic, he forcefully opened the door. “Doc!”

Emmett startled and looked up at the boy with confusion- he never slammed the door like that, always worried that if he was in the middle of an experiment it would make him hurt himself. “Marty, what-?”

The younger interrupted him, and only then did Doc notice how out of breath he sounded. “Doc, help, I don’t know what’s wrong-” Whatever was going on the kid’s panicking was clearly exacerbating the issue, so Emmett gently led him to the couch and sat down next to him.

“Alright, calm down, I’m sure we can figure this out. What’s going on?”

Marty struggled for a moment to get enough air into his lungs before speaking. “The coaches were brutal in P.E. today… and everyone was all out of breath afterwards… but the thing was, I couldn’t catch my breath… and then after my next class my chest started burning… and when I skateboarded here everything got even worse.” Doc’s eyes widened slightly- what was Marty thinking, skateboarding when he was having trouble breathing!? But he knew that helping with whatever was going on was far more important.

He sighed slightly. “Okay, whatever is wrong probably has a perfectly reasonable explanation. Can you take your shirt off? I need to make sure it’s not anything on the surface.”

Inexplicably, Marty instantly tensed at that. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh- actually, Doc, I think I probably just overreacted. You don’t have to do that.”

Emmett narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It didn’t appear that the boy was having an easier time breathing, and the fear in his eyes had only grown. He had been trying to hide his concern so that Marty would remain calm, but now it was beginning to show on his face. “It hardly seems like you’re overreacting to me. Just let me make sure it’s nothing serious, I’d never be able to forgive myself if you got hurt because I didn’t check it.” He waited a moment for Marty to reply. When he only bit his lip anxiously, Doc sighed. He was beginning to get even more concerned, but he tried not to show it on his face. The desperation in his tone may have given him away, though. “Please, Marty, don’t be stubborn about this. It’ll only take a moment, I promise.”

He was startled when tears sprung to Marty’s eyes, and was about to drop the issue- if it was causing this much distress he could just have him take it easy today or something- but before he could open his mouth to say as much his friend burst out, “I can’t do this anymore!” and took his shirt off as fast as he could, like he was trying to rip off a bandage.

There was medical tape wrapped tightly around the boy’s torso, and at first Doc assumed that he had gotten hurt somehow. But that didn’t make sense with Marty’s confusion about what was causing his chest to hurt, and after a second he realized what other reason the boy might have to wrap his chest so tightly and gasped.

Marty remained silent, watching Doc tensely to see his reaction. He was beginning to worry that he was going to lose his best friend just because he was born in the wrong body. But, mercifully, Doc’s expression softened and he went to grab the first aid kit from the wall and gave it to Marty, who looked up at him with confusion.

“Take this, go to the bathroom and take that tape off. There’s an ointment in there that should help soothe your skin and if there are any lacerations use gauze. Do not wrap bandages around your chest, even if you do them loosely they’ll only make it worse.” His tone called for no argument, so Marty grabbed his shirt and headed to the bathroom, the tips of his ears burning with shame. The tape was what caused all of this?

When he came out, his arms were crossed over his chest uncomfortably. Doc wordlessly handed him one of his jackets, and though he flushed slightly with embarrassment Marty put it on gratefully. He felt much better wearing clothes that were too big for him.

He sat back next to Emmett apprehensively, but relaxed slightly when his friend smiled warmly at him. “I wish you had told me about this sooner, though I understand why you didn’t. I assure you that this changes nothing about how I see you: you’re still the same wonderful boy I’ve known these past two years.” At that Marty finally relaxed fully, but before he could thank Doc for being so understanding the man spoke again, “In fact, I’d love to help you find a safer method to hide your chest. And when you turn sixteen I could probably even get ahold of testosterone for you, as long as your parents are alright with it.”

Marty sat stunned, and for a moment Emmett was scared he had over stepped. But then the boy leapt forward on the couch to hug him, and he knew his efforts were appreciated.

Chapter Text

Buford knew that there was a large chance that the scrawny runt who he was supposed to duel that day would run for it. That was exactly the reason that he woke up his no-good gang to head into town bright and early- if the kid tried to run, they would see him. He was especially proud of this decision when they stumbled upon a dinky little camp on the way to the saloon- one with a familiar looking runt sleeping in it all by himself. It would be much better to use the kid as a bargaining chip to get even more money from the blacksmith than to just shoot him. And if the blacksmith didn’t pay up? Well, then, the runt’s blood would be on his hands.

That was how Marty found himself waking up tied to a tree. As soon as he realized he was alone he tried to wiggle out of the ropes that were restraining him, but before he could make any real progress a bullet whizzed by him, making him still instantly. He wasn’t surprised to see that Buford was the one who shot it.

“If you try that again, the next one goes through your skull.” The outlaw holstered his gun and dismounted from his horse.

Marty gulped- he was certain that wasn’t a bluff. Nonetheless, he jutted his chin out defiantly. “Where’s Doc!?” He was worried for his friend- he was probably tied up somewhere else, wondering what they had done to him. Hopefully. He never would’ve forgiven himself if Doc got hurt because he couldn’t walk away from a fight.

For some reason, the question made Buford laugh. “The blacksmith!? Hate to break it to you, runt, but he was long gone when we found your camp. You better hope that he didn’t skip town completely- that wouldn’t end well for you.” The smug grin on his face showed that he was relishing the opportunity to break Marty’s spirit.

The boy was completely stunned. Doc wasn’t there? That couldn’t be true, his friend would never abandon him like that… right? But if he hadn’t, then where was he? He startled when he heard a train whistle in the distance- that was their ticket home! He nearly began struggling again, but Buford must’ve seen the look on his face because he put his hand on his gun warningly. Marty deflated in defeat immediately.

Buford huffed, satisfied, and removed his hand from his holster. “You’re lucky that I need to keep my collateral intact until that blacksmith gets here-” he grinned nastily, “-or until he doesn’t.” Marty shook slightly against his restraints- he wasn’t ready to die.

When they heard the galloping of a horse approaching them, Buford drew his gun and pointed it at Marty’s head, making the boy whimper slightly in fear. His heart leapt when Archimedes ran into view, Doc looking frazzled on top of him. He was relieved to see that his friend was alright, of course… but this meant that Buford had been telling the truth. Doc really did just leave him laying in the desert on his own.

Doc quickly pulled on Archimedes’ reins to make him stop and dismounted. He knew that his body language betrayed how distressed he was, he had been tense since he heard the train whistle and finally came to his senses as he realized that he was going to make Marty late- but when he got to the spot they had camped at, he didn’t find an agitated kid like he expected to- instead he found a parchment on Marty’s sleeping bag, stuck in with a knife. He shakily removed the blade, relieved to see that there was no blood on it. His relief was short lived, though– the paper had a ransom note written on it. Buford had taken Marty, and was threatening to kill him unless Doc gave him five-hundred dollars. This was an amount of money he just didn’t have- as soon as he realized his stay in the 1800s would be permanent he had burned all of the money from the emergency briefcase- he didn’t want anybody in town to be suspicious of his wealth, and most of it was currency from the future anyways, rendering it useless. He was sorely regretting that decision now.

He decided to count himself lucky that Marty wasn’t shot as soon as he showed up with no visible bag that the money could’ve been in. He tried to glare, but it came off weakly in his panicked state. “Let him go, Tannen.”

The outlaw returned the glare, though his was tinged with an air of superiority, He held all of the cards in this situation, and he knew it. “I’ll let him go just as soon as you pay up. Doesn’t look like you’ve got the goods, though.” Marty was slightly stung- he knew Doc had the eighty dollars, was he really refusing Buford at a time like this?

“I don’t know how well you think blacksmithing pays, but five hundred dollars is not the kind of money I can procure at the drop of a hat!” The hostage felt his heart drop- he didn’t know what five hundred dollars in the old west would translate to in the eighties, but he knew it was an enormous amount.

Buford grinned. “Well, then, I suppose you’ll just have to say goodbye to the runt, then.” He cocked his gun, and Marty braced himself for whatever pain he was in for.

Doc was floundering. He knew there was no way they were getting out of this situation unharmed, not when the maniac had such a grudge against both of him. There was no reality in which he allowed Marty to be the one who paid for his mistakes. “Wait! Please!”

The outlaw looked towards him, but his gun didn’t move from where it was trained on the boy who was now looking at Doc in confusion. “If you don’t suddenly have the money with you, blacksmith, you should save your breath.”

The older man tried to avoid looking at Marty. “Take me instead.” He heard the boy gasp and instinctively turned towards him- the horror on his face made Doc regret it instantly.

“No, Doc, don’t! This is all my fault, don’t throw your life away for me!” Tears were beginning to gather in his eyes- he couldn’t live with himself if Doc got hurt, he couldn’t live in a world without his best friend!

Doc shook his head and smiled sadly at the boy he had grown to care about so much since that cold November night in 1955. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken- this is my fault. If I hadn’t left you alone out there…”

Buford grinned nastily. “Well, ain’t that sweet. You’d really do that for some runt?”

Without hesitation, Doc answered, “I would do anything to keep him safe, Tannen. Let him go, and take me instead.”

The outlaw seemed to consider for a moment, and finally he nodded. He pulled a knife from his belt, and as he cut Marty free he warned, “If you try anything, both of you are getting what you deserve.”

As soon as he was free, Marty ran to Doc and wrapped his arms around him, tears streaming down his face in earnest. “Doc, don’t do this, you can’t leave me like this, please-!”

Emmett firmly placed his hands on the boy’s arms and gently pulled him away from the embrace. He had to be sure that what he said got through to him. “Marty, listen to me. We missed today’s train, but there will be another one. My notebook is in the workshop, it has detailed instructions on what needs to be done to get up to eighty-eight miles once you’ve hijacked it. You’re going to get home, Marty, I swear it to you.”

Marty shook his head. “No, Doc, don’t, I can’t do that, I’m not leaving without you!”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to, future boy. It will be alright, I swear.” He smiled sadly at his friend, but then he saw that Buford was getting impatient over the boy’s shoulder and his expression turned serious. “I need you to get on Archimedes and go straight to the workshop. Don’t stop until you get there, don’t look back, and do not try to save me, Marty, I mean it.”

It was clear that the boy was trying incredibly hard to hold back a sob, but in the end he lost the struggle as his emotions overwhelmed him. He had finally gotten Doc back, he couldn’t believe he was losing him again. Emmett gently wrapped his arms around his friend as a few of his own tears sprung forward, but Buford was looking more and more agitated. He gently pushed his friend towards his horse. “Go, run!”

Marty hesitated for a moment, and Doc worried for a moment that he would go against his instructions- but, thankfully, he mounted on Archimedes as fast as he could and galloped towards town. Buford advanced on him with a vicious smile as he listened to the clopping get further and further away. As the outlaw raised the gun to his head, he closed his eyes and smiled. At least Marty would be sa-

Chapter Text

If he was being completely honest with himself, Marty Jr. didn’t have the energy to deal with his family after Griff held him up at school to help with yet another hair-brained scheme. He was relieved when he got home and nobody else was there. At least, that’s what he thought, but when he went upstairs he noticed the bathroom door was closed and there was light peeking out from under it. He was going to just walk past it- it wasn’t unusual for Marlene to sit in there to paint her nails or do her makeup- but then he heard a weird choking sound that made him worry.

He hesitantly knocked on the door. “M-Marls? Are you ok-k-kay in there?” The strange choking sound stopped, and at first he thought it must have been a video or something, but then he heard a muffled sob that he recognized as his sister’s. His concern only increased- his sister never hid her emotions from him like this, but it sounded like she had tried to smother the sound of her crying. MJ tried the door but, predictably, it was locked. “Marlene, what’s w-wrong!?”

“Leave me alone!” Her voice was broken by the force of her crying, and in an uncharacteristic move MJ stood his ground.

His voice gave away his desperate worry, but he ignored it. “P-Please let me i-in, Marlene. I’m w-w-worried ab-bout you.” He stood there for a moment, listening hopefully for the click of the lock. He was just about to resign himself to sitting outside the door and waiting for her when he finally heard it. He opened the door slowly and caught a glimpse of vomit in the toilet just before his sister flushed it.

Marlene’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail and there was a wet washcloth on the back of her neck. He was confused for a moment- was she sick or something? But then he noticed that two of her fingers had spit on them, and it didn’t take much to connect the dots after that. Wordlessly, MJ sat next to his sister on the floor with a slightly softer expression.

Something in his expression must have given him away, because after looking at him for a moment more tears came to Marlene’s eyes and she began crying again. MJ gently pulled his twin so that she was leaning against him and used the washcloth from her neck to carefully clean her face and fingers. Once he was done he began rubbing her back comfortingly as she cried into his shoulder.

He felt awful that he hadn’t noticed. He always thought Marlene was the pinnacle of confidence- to realize that she had been going through something like this was a bit like having a rug pulled out from under him. MJ wondered, briefly, if his parents would have felt the same way if they found out. If either of them would even care if he told them about it. His sister’s sobs became even stronger, almost as if she could tell what he was thinking.

No, he decided. This was something he would have to help Marlene through by himself.

Chapter Text

When he blearily blinked his eyes open he was startled to find that his ears were ringing so bad that it was all he could hear. He tried fruitlessly to get the ringing to stop, screwing his eyes shut in discomfort from the grating sound. Eventually, the ringing subsided on its own and he was able to take in his surroundings. He was in some sort of car, and with his hearing finally back to normal he could hear that the car alarm was going off. He took one more moment leaning on the hard steering wheel before finally lifting his head. It hurt badly where it had been against the wheel, and as he saw that the car had crashed he wondered if he hit his head when the collision happened.

Looking out the window, he saw that he didn’t recognize his surroundings at all. “...Where am I?” He looked down and saw that he was wearing a hazmat suit, though he had no clue why- and that made him realize that he couldn’t really remember anything before waking up in this strange situation. He had no clue why he was wearing a hazmat suit, why he was in a crashed car, or even what his own name was. He let his head thud against the car seat. What on Earth was he supposed to do now?

After wallowing for only a moment he took stock of what was in the car- an orange vest that he must’ve been wearing before he put the hazmat suit on, a walkman with headphones, and a video camera. He shuffled out of the suit, which left him in a button up and jeans, and then pulled the vest on over that. He couldn’t remember them, but he knew that he had a family, people who would be looking for him. If they had called the police or put out missing posters he wanted to be wearing the last thing they saw him in- which was hopefully this.

Once he felt more like an actual person he decided to investigate the car itself. Unfortunately, all that revealed was that it was weirdly kitted out. It had three clocks which displayed the date alongside the time and were each set differently and a strange device attached to the back wall to the cab. When he finally felt oriented enough to leave the car, the door opened vertically and upon stepping out he could see that the exterior was just as weirdly futuristic as the inside. He was going to try to follow the tire tracks but they only lasted a few feet, as if the car had appeared out of thin air. He knew that wasn’t possible, but he couldn’t think of what might have actually caused something like this.

He saw a building in the distance- a few, actually. It looked like a barn next to a townhouse. His heart felt like it had a strange weight in it as he headed towards the house to ask for help, and he spoke almost instinctively. “This is heavy…”

Chapter Text

For how desperate he was for help when Doc found him behind the courthouse, Marty was certainly being stubborn now that he had some pain relievers. “Aw, c’mon, Doc, can’t I atleast get up to use the bathroom by myself?”

Emmett, for his part, would be happy to allow the boy to use his crutches after another day or so, but they had only been home from the hospital for about an hour and he’d rather keep Marty off of his feet entirely until he had rested a bit more. “Not with a broken leg, you can’t.”

He was beginning to think that the painkillers he’d gotten were making Marty a bit loopy, because the boy just scoffed. “It’s just a scratch!” Doc just gave him a look and finally Marty shrank into himself a bit, pouting slightly. “Okay, fine. It’s just for today anyways, I guess…”

He allowed himself to be picked up and carried to the bathroom, his annoyance growing slightly when he realized that Doc was able to lift him basically effortlessly. After he was given privacy to relieve himself he was carried back to the couch, and as soon as he was laying down again he started scratching at the large scratch on his forehead, which was itching horribly as it scabbed over.

Seeing this, Doc frowned and gently smacked his hand. This only made Marty pout further as he cradled his hand to his chest, pretending it still hurt. “Hey! C’mon, Doc, it’s bad enough that I can’t scratch my leg! It’s itchy!”

His caretaker only rolled his eyes fondly. “If you don’t let it heal properly it will leave a scar, Marty, and I’m sure the last thing you want is a scar on your face. Now, I’m going to make some grilled cheese for us to have for lunch. Don’t scratch it while I’m gone.”

As he walked away he heard Marty mumble, “It’ll probably scar anyways, bastard nearly got down to my skull…” and smiled softly at his exaggerated dramatics. The boy was certainly a fussy patient.

Chapter Text

It had been entirely too long since the last time Marty was able to shower. He was able to do it fairly regularly when he was staying with Doc in the fifties, but after spending a whole day running around trying to fix his mistakes he had been covered in dirt and sweat. When he went to the hospital after Biff broke his leg they cleaned the leg really well before putting the cast on, but since he couldn’t get it wet he was still dirty everywhere else and he was beginning to feel really gross.

Despite all of that, Doc was absolutely refusing to let him take a bath because he was worried about his cast getting water on it. “Doc, I’m starting to smell like rotten fruit, I can’t just live like this until I get my cast off in two months!”

To his disappointment Doc shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t change my mind about this, future boy. If any moisture gets into your cast your leg could get infected. When you’re more used to having it we’ll wrap it up so you can bathe but for now it’s just going to have to wait.”

Marty glared. He was already annoyed enough having to deal with Doc babying him all the time, he did not want to be stuck sitting in his own filth. “Isn't it just gonna get infected anyway if I’m not clean!?”

This was what finally made the other pause. He considered for a moment before sighing. “You’re right. I suppose I hadn’t thought of that…” Marty grinned, he couldn’t believe that he actually listened to him! His expression fell slightly at Doc’s next words. “I still don’t think you’re ready for a full bath, though. There’s too much risk of water getting stuck inside of the cast. I’ll just have to give you a sponge bath instead.”

The younger one had to will himself not to groan- he was lucky that he was able to do it at all, plus if Doc was playing nurse anyways he might as well help with this, too. He helped Marty get to the guest bathroom and gave him some swim shorts to change into. When he came back with a bucket after the boy finished getting changed he was starting to feel a little bit more comfortable with the idea of getting help with this. Changing his pants with only one leg had been challenging, and he was starting to see why Doc was so worried about him accidentally getting the cast wet.

Once the bucket was full of warm, soapy water Marty sat on the floor of the tub with Doc’s help and watched him dip a yellow sponge into it. His friend smiled. “Alright, then. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chapter Text

It had been one hell of a week for Marty, and his thirties clothes were starting to show the wear and tear from his misadventures. He hadn’t even had a chance to The fabric still reeked of acrid smoke from when he blew up Kid Tannen’s speakeasy and he could only hope that the smell wasn’t as obvious to the people around him. But even if, by some miracle, nobody could smell the smoke they would still be able to see the thin layer of dirt that had begun to cover his clothes and the bloodstain on the pants leg where Citizen Brown grazed him with the DeLorean when he drove away after their argument. Marty kept telling himself that it was an accident, but the longer he went without seeing the man the more unsure he was.

Once Emmett had both feet on the ground again he was ecstatic about his new idea for the expo, and was thankfully thrilled to have his help with it despite the things he said on the roof. Marty figured he was just smart enough to realize that he had been bluffing, so when he gestured for Marty to join him in the truck he was happy to oblige. But as soon as the door was shut Emmett’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Why in the world do you smell so much like smoke?” Marty couldn’t exactly tell him that the smell was from the fire that he set to help capture Kid Tannen- after all, it’s been months since that night for Emmet even if it was only yesterday for him.

He struggled to think of what to say for a moment before answering. “Oh, uh, that’s kind of a long story. I just haven’t had a chance to do laundry in a few days I guess…”

Emmett smiled understandingly. He could definitely relate to not having enough hours in the day. “Well that’s alright, Mich- sorry, I mean- Marty. I have some clothes you could borrow when we get to the lab so that those can get washed, but they’ll probably be a bit too big for you.”

Marty smiled gratefully as they began driving. True to his word, the first thing Emmett did once they got to his house was go upstairs to get something for him to wear. When he came back down he was carrying a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. “I’ve never even worn these, Pop got them but I’m not exactly an active person. At least, not in the traditional sense.”

He took them to the guest bathroom to change, wincing when he had to pull his pants off where the blood had dried them to his skin. Without the trousers as a makeshift bandage the cut started bleeding again, and he winced. He looked around in the room to see if there was a first aid kit and sighed when he came up empty handed. Hopefully Emmett just wouldn’t notice.

But, of course, as soon as his friend took the dirty clothes from him he caught sight of the bloodstain on his pants and frowned, instantly looking at Marty's leg with a small gasp. “You’re hurt!” Before he could protest that he was fine Emmett dragged him to the lab, dropping the clothes down a laundry chute on the way. Once they got there he had Marty sit on the cot in the corner as he dug around under the main table for something. “I know it’s around here somewhere…”

Marty was just about to tell him not to worry about it when Emmett gave a small cry of, “Eureka!” and emerged from under the table with a first aid kit. He brought it over to the cot and sat next to Marty, who found it kind of nice that he was insisting on helping even though it would be easy to bandage the cut himself. It was the sort of thing that Doc had done a thousand times, but he couldn’t imagine Citizen Brown doing the same. It was nice to be reassured that he would get his friend back. “How did this even happen?”

As Emmett bandaged his leg he gave an abridged explanation. “Well, I was at the science expo and I kind of got into it with one of the people who had a Car of the Future entry, and when he got angry enough to drive off he clipped my leg.”

His friend looked up just as he finished wrapping the cut, his expression full of righteous fury. It was a little startling to see him with such an angry expression- even when Marty said he messed up his life for fun he didn’t look this upset. “And they didn’t stop to check on you!? Oh, I swear if they hit you on purpose…”

Marty was quick to hold his arms out in a soothing gesture. “I don’t know if they meant to do it, but I haven’t seen them since so it doesn’t really matter. I’m fine, they probably just didn’t notice how close I was to the car.”

For a moment he looked like he wanted to get justice for his friend at any cost, but when he saw Marty’s expression Emmett sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Well, while we wait for Montague to finish with your clothes we should get started on my invention. We have a strict deadline, after all!”

They worked for hours on the hover car before Montague- Marty was still reeling about the Brown family having a butler- brought his clothes in for him, looking even fresher than when he first bought them. Almost as soon as he was wearing clothes that actually fit him properly Marty passed out on the cot- he hadn’t gotten to stop and rest since Kid got arrested, and he was out cold as soon as his head hit the pillow.

“Marty, could you hand me the-” When Emmett looked towards where his friend was standing a moment ago he was confused to see that he was no longer there, but it only took a brief glance around the lab to see him snoring into a pillow in the corner. Smiling bemusedly, the aspiring scientist got up to drape a blanket over his sleeping friend. Marty deserved some rest.

Chapter Text

Finding out that his best friend had helped build one of the most dangerous weapons in the world was definitely a shock to Marty. When Jules and Verne spilled the beans, Doc looked devastated, no amount of fake smiles could hide that. Marty wasn’t upset at him, he was sure that his friend would have never signed off if he knew what it actually entailed, and even if it stung a bit to hear it from his kids instead of the man himself he refused to just let Doc stay so upset.

They couldn’t talk about it in front of the boys, so instead Marty made an excuse to leave and then took the DeLorean to a few days after the bombs were dropped on Japan. Seeing the transition his friend was making was insane- when he visited the thirties Emmett was bright and full of energy, and in the fifties it was much the same. Now, though, the man who had opened the Brown mansion’s door looked exhausted. There were deep bags under his dim eyes and his unkempt hair was going blonde from the roots.

He should have seen it coming when Emmett recognized him from when he visited the thirties, and as they talked Marty kept noticing him making confused faces at him. He was probably wondering how he still looked the same- it had been fourteen years since Emmett saw him, but Marty had only aged a few months. Luckily, though, he didn’t mention anything. They chatted for a bit, both of them awkwardly dancing around the elephant in the room, but when he noticed several government vehicles heading towards where he hid the DeLorean Marty started to worry.

When he asked Emmett if he could take him to check out what the soldiers were doing he hesitated, but Marty must not have been hiding his rising panic as well as he thought because it only took one look at his face for the man to relent. The car ride was tense as the followed the path the soldiers took, Marty’s uneasiness rising the closer they got to the billboard he always used to hide the DeLorean.

His worst fears were confirmed as they stopped a little ways away from where several covered cars could be seen. Panic made his breaths come in quick bursts as they watched soldiers load the car onto a trailer before covering it with a tarp. “Oh- oh my God, oh shit, I’m so screwed!”

Emmett turned to him in concern. “What? Mich- ah, Marty, what’s wrong?”

Marty couldn’t do this anymore, he was so sick of lying to his friend, and there was no way he could come up with a convincing one anyways as tears began to form in his eyes. There was no way he could get home without Emmett’s help anyways, right? So he took a deep breath before bursting out, “I’m a time-traveler!” He saw Emmett’s face slacken with surprise, but he cut off his friend before he could comment- he had to get his explanation out. “That’s- that’s the car, the one I had at the expo in the thirties, remember? It’s a-a time-machine, and it’s my only way home- oh, god…” His bent forward slightly as he tried to catch his breath, his panic overtaking his words.

For a long moment Emmett just stared at him, the gears turning in his head practically audible. There was no way that was true, right? Time-travel wasn’t real. And yet… it explained a lot about his strange friend. The way Marty would disappear without a trace before reappearing at seemingly random times in 1931, how he knew about the rocket-powered drill without being from the patent office, why he looked exactly the same as he did fourteen years ago- and even that damning evidence was only scratching the surface of how many loose threads would be tied up by this explanation.

He stared out the windshield, watching the military drive away from Hill Valley with the time-machine in hand. It was unlikely that they would figure out how to use it, but if they did... An expression of horror dawned on his face, and before he could stop himself he blurted out, “What have you done?” When he heard Marty whimper beside him he turned, realizing that he should have chosen his words more carefully when he saw how much his friend was struggling.

Hesitantly, awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and he tried his best to offer some comforting words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure that everything will be fine, we’ll get your time-machine back and get you home. I’ll make sure of it.” To someone else Emmett’s words may have rang hollow, but Marty knew him better than anyone else in the space-time continuum. He could hear the quiet determination in his friend’s voice and was finally able to catch his breath. He smiled weakly at Emmett.

“Yeah… What could go wrong, right?”

Chapter Text

Marty’s heart felt like it would beat out of his chest as they set up a small camp near the train station. He was still trying to process everything that just happened. It was insane to think that he might never see Hill Valley again- he had rarely even been outside of the town, and he had never left California. But he couldn’t stay- in the morning, everyone would think that he was a murderer. Well, everyone except the Brown family.

Just after they finished setting out some bedrolls Buford’s heads snapped up and he stared suspiciously into the darkness. “...We’re being watched.” Marty’s heart raced even faster as the outlaw drew his gun- what if the Marshall found Josiah already and came looking for them? Buford aimed into the darkness, and as Marty squinted he saw the vague outline of a person.

A figure in a dress stepped out from the shadows with her hands up, and for a brief moment Marty thought it was Ann and their plan was stopped before it could even start- but then he recognised that it was Clara! He immediately shoved Buford’s hand down so that his gun was aimed at the dirt, and the other glared at him. He made an annoyed sound and rolled his eyes before going to tend the tiny fire they made. Marty gently grabbed Clara’s arm and steered her further away so that they had some privacy to talk.

“What on Earth are you doing out here? I thought Doc was gonna explain everything to you when you woke up!” His voice was full of panicked exasperation, there were so many things that could’ve gone wrong from her following them. What if someone saw her?

Clara gave him a stern expression. “He did. If you think that after knowing you for four years I’m just going to let you leave without a goodbye, you’re sorely mistaken.” Before he could respond, she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Marty immediately stiffened, but after a moment he relaxed and shakily returned the hug. He could feel the tears that he’s been holding in all night begin to well up in his eyes, but he stubbornly blinked them away. Just when he thought he was in the clear, Clara muttered, “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Marty.” Like a dam being broken, tears instantly started to stream down his face.

His voice was dry when he spoke, but he had to get this out now. He probably wouldn’t get a chance to tell anyone after this. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- It’s all my fault, Clara, I never should have listened to her, how could I have been so stupid...” She gently shushed him, rubbing his back soothingly.

“No, honey, no. It isn’t your fault. Nobody here ever would have suspected Miss Gardner of doing something like this- I suppose that was part of her wretched scheme.” The vitriol in Clara’s voice as she spoke about Ann caught him off guard, but he supposed it was warranted.

Before he could respond, he heard Buford yelling from where he still sat by the fire. “Hey! If the smithy’s wife don’t hurry on home soon we’re gonna get caught. Wrap it up, runt.” Marty pulled away from the hug to glare at him, but then turned to Clara with an apologetic expression.

“He’s right. The last thing we need is for somebody to see you with us- Jules and Verne need you.” His face lightened slightly as he added, “Besides, someone has to take care of Doc while I’m gone.”

Clara laughed lightly and she pulled him into a quick hug before turning and beginning to walk away. She only goes a few steps before she turns around with a smirk. “Give her hell, Marty.”

Chapter Text

The past few weeks had been full of bad days, but Marty thought that this was probably turning out to be the worst. After nearly getting him and Doc killed by Mad Dog, they were able to hijack the train as planned. But at some point Clara somehow got on the train, too, apparently changing her mind after whatever happened that led to him finding Doc’s lavender sprig drying out on her window sill. Doc tried to help guide her to the DeLorean- after all, if she stayed on the train she would plummet into the ravine, and they already passed to point of no return so there was no choice but to take her with them.

She was nearly to the front of the train when the second log exploded, causing the train to get another burst of speed. She lost her grip and fell, barely hanging on. Both of the boys were horrified, Marty even more so when he saw Doc heading back for her. “Doc, wait, there’s no time! You won’t be able to make it to her and then get back to the time machine before we hit eighty-eight!”

Doc didn’t even turn back, instead focusing on making his way to where Clara was. “I can’t just do nothing, Marty! She’ll die if I don’t go back!”

Marty felt frustrated tears form in his eyes- why could his friend never just listen to him!? “I won’t leave you, dammit!” Doc ignored him this time, finally reaching Clara and attempting to help her up. When Marty saw that he wouldn’t be able to do it without causing both of them to fall off he called out, “Doc!” and sent the hoverboard to them. The last thing he saw as the final log went off was Doc and Clara riding the hoverboard with a loving expression on each of their faces.

He had little time to process his emotions when he got back to 1985- there was a train coming on the tracks, and he had to rush to get out of the DeLorean, watching in horror as a freighter plowed through it and destroyed any chance he had of getting Doc back. After a moment, he finally realized that the ugly emotion growing in his chest was betrayal- he couldn’t believe that Doc would ever choose a woman he only just met over his best friend. He could understand not wanting Clara to get hurt, but he was the one always talking about not disrupting the space-time continuum! She would have fallen into the ravine anyways if they hadn’t been there!

Marty rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t mean that, he didn’t want her to die. He was just… angry. “Well, Doc, it’s destroyed.” He felt a tear roll down his cheek and stubbornly wiped it away. Too many people had seen him going down the tracks, already- he didn’t need anyone to see him crying. “Just like you wanted…”

Chapter Text

Seeing his mother get shoved to the floor had Marty seeing red. “You son of a bitch!” He rushed at Biff, fist already pulled back to punch him, but the same goons from the fifties held him back.

The man turned to him as Lorraine gasped in pain on the floor, trying to get up. “Always the little hothead, huh?” Biff lifted Marty by his collar, the goons letting go of him, before dropping him, gripping his hair so that he was forced to kneel. “I own your family.” He turned to Lorraine, making eye contact as he continued, “Hell, I own the entire damn city! I’m the most powerful man in this state. And you both need to remember it.” He shoved the back of Marty’s head so that he landed on his stomach and stepped forcefully on his back, causing the boy to yelp. “You’re only as good as the dirt beneath my shoes.”

Lorraine stood, getting up in Biff’s face. “Damn it, Biff, leave him alone! Get off of him!” Biff pressed his foot hard against Marty’s back one more time, causing the boy to choke slightly from the force of it, before removing his foot. His mother immediately went to help him stand, glaring at her husband. “That does it! This is the last straw, I’m leaving.” She helped Marty walk as they both made their way to the stairs so they could leave.

Biff glared at them as they walked. “So go ahead, then. But think about who pays for your daughter’s credit debts. Think about who got your son put on probation- who can get it revoked.”

At the top of the balcony, Lorraine helped Marty lean against the banister before leaning over it, looking at Biff in horror. “You wouldn’t!”

Grinning, he started making his way up the stairs. “Oh, wouldn’t I? And that’s not all- your shitty son just tried to assault me in my own home. How’d you like to have all three of your kids behind bars, just like your brother Joey.” When he reached the balcony, he got uncomfortably close to her, speaking into her ear. “One big, happy, jailbird family.”

Marty watched his mother slump in defeat, patting his arm gently as she passed him. “Alright, Biff. You win. I’ll stay.” As she shuffled solemnly down the stairs, Biff grabbed Marty’s collar again, pulling him up to get in his face.

“As for you, I’ll be back up here in an hour, so you better not be!” He threw the boy violently back against the banister, which Marty scrambled to support himself on again. He glared at Biff as he walked through the doors, wondering where the hell George was that this was allowed to happen to his mother.

Chapter Text

If Marty was more aware of his surroundings, he’d probably really regret trying to run away. As it was, he was just laying in bed for the third day in a row, and he probably wouldn’t even notice Doc going in and out of the room if it wasn’t for the light hitting his eyes every time his room’s door opened. The fifth time it happened, when his friend was coming back from getting yet another blanket, Marty blearily placed his arm over his eyes and muttered, “Knock it off…”

Doc closed the door and the blanket down before reclaiming his spot next to Marty’s bedside. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t be disturbing your rest.” Marty let his arm fall back where it had been laying before, and Doc gently ran his hand through the boy’s hair. He sighed softly. “I wish you had said something. We could’ve prevented this entire mess if you told one of us about how you were feeling. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me when you’re upset. I don’t want to be like the family you told me about from your original timeline.”

Marty clearly wasn’t processing anything he was saying, instead closing his eyes and leaning slightly into Doc’s hand. After a few moments he was snoring softly. Doc smiled warmly at him. “Yes, that’s a good idea. You get more sleep, hopefully you’ll feel a bit better when you wake up.”

In his sleep, Marty shivered slightly. Doc quickly grabbed the extra blanket he brought and placed it over the boy, and he curled up a bit more. He wished there was more he could do- if this had somehow happened in the eighties they could just get antibiotics and Marty would be perfectly healthy within a week. But they weren’t in the eighties- not the nineteen eighties, at least. There was no such thing as antibiotics in the old west, and Doc was wary of the medicine that was available to them. Most of it was addictive, and none of it would be any good against scarlet fever, anyways.

He stood slowly, and brushed the hair off of Marty’s forehead before gently kissing it. He winced a bit after feeling how hot the boy’s skin was. With one last ruffle to his future boy’s hair, he walked to the door and carefully made sure to open it in a way that no light would disturb Marty. Hopefully a cold rag would be able to make the fever go down some…

Chapter Text

“I-I really don’t think it’s a good idea, guys, c-can’t you just do it without me i-if it’s that important?” Griff glared darkly at him, and Marty Jr. winced, curling into himself slightly. That expression was never a good sign.

As if he somehow heard MJ think it, Griff lifted him by the front of his shirt and got uncomfortably close to his face. “I think I might’ve misheard you, McFly.” He slammed MJ hard into the ground, before stepping on his chest and pinning him flat against the floor. “For a minute there, I thought you said ‘no’ to me.”

Wheezing from the pressure, MJ stared up at the other in horror. Griff finally moved his foot, making no move to help the smaller one as he struggled to support himself against the cafe’s counter. A few other customers looked on with concern, but after a single glare from Griff they all decided it would be safer to mind their own business.

In an uncharacteristic moment, MJ stood up for himself. Still gripping the counter for support, he stood as straight as he could and made shaky eye contact with Griff. “Th-Th-That’s cause i-it’s what I-I-I s-said. I’m n-not gonna d-d-do it.” He had barely gotten the words out before a cybernetically-enhanced fist collided with his jaw, knocking him to the floor. MJ curled into himself, attempting in vain to protect his stomach as Griff and the rest of his gang relentlessly kicked him.

After a few minutes of being kicked at repeatedly, MJ finally had a moment to breathe. He didn’t have long, though, as Spike gripped his shoulder hard so that her nails left puncture marks and lifted him up, holding him in front of Griff. “This is your final warning, McFly. Now, let’s hear the right answer.”

Without any hesitation, MJ gasped out, “O-Okay, okay, I surrender. I-I’ll do it, whatever y-y-you want, guys.” Griff grinned nastily at him.

Chapter Text

Staring at his best friend being held at gunpoint by a gangster, Marty was running out of ideas on what to do. Kid was intent on using Emmett as a human shield since he was a Judge’s son, and maybe in an ideal world he’d be able to get away safely on his own and then Marty could use the flying car to get rid of the gangster. But reality wasn’t ideal- Emmett was being held tightly, and though he squirmed he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Besides, the car’s transmitter was snapped clean in half so it would’ve been useless even if his friend could get away.

Marty caught a glimpse of Doc in the gazebo, his body flickering momentarily as his younger self faced mortal danger. That was the last straw for him. He quietly climbed back down the latter and got to the DeLorean as fast as he could. Luckily, Officer Parker had left to try and fulfill Kid’s demands and save Emmett and Edna went with him, so there were no bystanders to see what was about to happen.

He started the DeLorean and flew it around to the front of the building. Kid and Emmett were both bewildered, but thankfully when the latter saw who was behind the wheel he caught on to the plan quickly. Marty opened the car door and swooped down, causing Kid to duck and leaving Emmett free to grab the hand that his friend was sticking out for him.

He gripped Marty’s hand as tightly as he could, keeping his gaze directed up towards him and the futuristic car so that he was slightly less aware of how high up they were. He yelled desperately upwards, “Don’t let go!”

The other smirked slightly, but kept his eyes on where he was going. “Wouldn’t dream of it!” Marty drove all the way to the billboard outside of town where he usually hid the DeLorean before slowly and carefully landing, making sure that Emmett was steady on his feet before touching down.

Emmett immediately started talking a mile a minute. “What in the name of Thomas Alva Edison is this thing!? How does it work? Did you make it yourself? Were you ever going to tell me you already had a hover car, or were you just going to let me continue puttering about with that useless rocket car? How long have you-”

“Emmett, listen, you gotta slow down. I’ll explain everything, okay? But you gotta swear that you’re not going to tell anybody about it. You can’t tell people what it does, you can’t even tell people it exists. If we’re lucky the cops’ll assume Tannen was hammered.”

His friend’s eyes brightened considerably. “You’ll really tell me everything?” The other boy wasn’t the most honest person he’s ever met, to tell the truth. This was a bit hard to believe.

But Marty answered without hesitation, “Yes, I promise I’ll explain the whole thing. But first you have to swear you won’t tell anybody.”

Nodding vigorously, Emmett held up his right hand. “I swear I won’t tell anybody about what has happened tonight or what you’re about to tell me.”

Sighing slightly, Marty sat on the grass next to the car and gestured for Emmett to do the same, which he did. It was going to be a long night. “Well, it all started on October 25, 1985…”