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Sometimes, in the dead of night when no one else was around to hear, Marty would lay awake in his bed and cry to himself. He wasn't exactly sure when this started, but it had become sort of a routine for the boy.
The silent tears that would pour from his eyes weren't over nothing, however.
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“Run for it Marty!” Doc shouted for him from behind his van. The scientist had ducked behind it to shield himself from the sudden onslaught of gunfire that had erupted from the beat up van that had suddenly sped around the corner.
Heart pounding in his chest, Marty tried to make a run for it. God, he was going to die here, wasn't he?
A screech of tires, shouting in a foreign tongue and suddenly time seemed to slow down around him.
The van had caught up with him, swerving slightly ahead of him. The men fired more shots into the night, the bullets whizzing towards Doc's van and-
Marty watched Doc's body fall back, a scream filling his ears as he watched his friend hit the ground, dead.
He barely even registered that it was him screaming.
“NO! YOU BASTARDS.” Marty cried, sinking to his knees as he sobbed. He knew he needed to get up and run right now, but he could barely move.
His best friend, the man who was more of a role model to him than both of his parents combined was dead.
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Gripping the edge of his sheets, Marty screwed his eyes shut and attempted to breathe through the flashback.
“It's okay Mcfly, Doc's alright now. Him and Clara are literally in Hill Valley with their kids. You can visit them whenever you like, they told you that. He's fine.” He whispered to himself, chest tightening with each heaving breath.
God, he was so stupid. This shouldn't bother him, all of the ridiculous time travel stuff took place over 4 months ago and everyone was alright now. It can't upset him that much anyway, because the flashbacks and panic attacks had been way worse before Doc had come back to the 1980s.
That being said, it did still suck pretty bad. He considered telling Jennifer about it, but he didn't want to bother her. She was always so lovely to him, constantly helping him with any issue he had.
She did have a tendency to worry about him, though. If he told her about this and caused her to worry unnecessarily, Marty isn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself.
He couldn't tell Doc, either. That especially sucked, if he had an issue that he couldn't tell most people he could almost always talk to his best friend about it.
Due to the situation, however, there was no way Marty could bring this up with him.
He knew it was a sore subject for the scientist. He heard the way his voice cracked slightly when mentioning alternate universe theories to Clara and the way he'd sometimes read over that life saving letter he'd given to him way back in 1955 with a horrible look of guilt on his face.
If Doc felt that bad about something that didn't even happen in his own timeline, how would Marty ever expect him to talk about it with someone who experienced it first hand?
Goddammit, he couldn't tell the two people he trusted most in the world about this.
Maybe he could tell Clara? She knew about time travel and Marty had become quite close to her during their time spent together. There was even this time where he even accidentally called her mom! God, that was so stupid.
The thought lingered in his mind for a second, before he managed to find a way to dismiss it. Clara was Doc's wife, she likely didn't know about the parking lot incident and heard about it from the random 17 year old who stays in the spare room of her house sometimes.
It'd be stupid for him to attempt it anyway. Trying to talk to Clara about a topic she didn't fully understand with the limited knowledge he himself has while her husband, who could explain it to her in more scientific terms that may confuse her less than Marty's rambling, feels too guilty to even look at him sometimes!
What was it about him that was so unbearable to look at? There were days where Doc would avoid eye contact with him, the days where he would shove the letter into the pocket of his lab coat before heading to his lab to halfheartedly ramble at Marty about something sciency.
There was nothing for him to feel guilty about, it wasn't like he shot himself or anything. I mean sure, maybe he could've done with not ripping those guys off for the plutonium, but how was he to know they'd come and try to kill him?
Besides, he actually ended up surviving. Shouldn't he be thankful for that?
The other Doc didn't survive it. Marty's Doc didn't survive it. He's been dead for over 4 months, this one hasn't.
They were both basically the same behavior wise, equally eccentric and passionate about science, but one had memories of Marty that the other didn't.
This Doc remembered a kid who got good grades in school all by himself, had a good family life and was liked by everyone he knew. He was a family friend instead of being considered dangerous by almost everyone in town, and he was alive.
His life was perfect. Of course, Marty had to come along and take the place of the probably equally as perfect lone pine equivalent of himself.
He always has to go and ruin everything, doesn't he?
If he had never met Doc, maybe the man wouldn't have had anyone to help him with other experiments aside from the Delorean. No extra work meant he could focus on making that damned time machine and its stupid flux capacitor.
Marty had basically indirectly killed him.
He wonders if he ruined his parents' marriage as well. David and Linda always used to talk about how their parents seemed so much happier when they were little. Before mom used to drink so heavily and before dad would sit in front of the tv and not talk to anyone for hours.
Would anyone even notice if he disappeared, really? Could this timeline truly be that different from his original?
Shaking that terrible thought from his head, Marty cried into his pillow. He sobbed quietly to himself, shoulders heaving as he curled up into a tight ball on his side.
God, he hated himself so much. He was so stupid and such a baby.
Anything could make him burst into tears from sudden loud noises to certain foods. It was ridiculous. He needed to grow up.
The tears wouldn't stop, no matter how much he tried. They just kept pouring out of his eyes, quiet whimpers escaping his lips as he prayed for this all to end. He just wanted to be happy again.
Tomorrow, he would put on a brave face and try to forget all about this, to pretend like he didn't spend almost an entire night sobbing into his pillow.
For now, however, he would just let himself have this little moment of weakness. It would all go away soon anyways, right?