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Emmett knew that letting Marty adjust would take time. He knew it wasn’t a clear, straight road ahead; that there would be some bumps and hills to climb along the way. But maybe he wasn’t prepared for just how difficult the adjustment would be.
At first, Marty was unusually quiet. He spoke in monosyllables when he spoke at all, and preferred to spend his days curled up in the new cot Emmett had got for him. Sometimes Einstein would curl up next to him, and Marty would run his fingers through the dog’s fur with a blank look on his face, staring at some fixed point off in space. This worried Emmett. He thought perhaps Marty had gone into shock, but he had no clue how to help the kid. He wasn’t a medical doctor. Nevertheless, he did his best to coax Marty out of his stupor, and somehow managed to succeed—sort of.
Gradually, Marty’s attitude began to change. Instead of apparent numbness, he grew to be quick to rather explosive anger, lashing out at the smallest things. He would mutter apologies immediately after, and Emmett would accept them without hesitation.
The mood swings were perhaps the hardest to deal with. It soon became apparent that Marty had big emotions he found difficult to control. Emmett knew Marty hated the mood swings, was maybe even embarrassed by them. He would often avoid looking at Emmett after they happened and sometimes reverted to his earlier listless state. It was frankly hard for Emmett to watch, but he had no right to complain. It was worse for Marty, he told himself.
Marty was also evidently independent. By his own admission, he’d been taking care of himself since he was around eight years old, learning how to make simple meals and clean up after himself. However, in Emmett’s garage, he was always careful to ask before he took anything from the cupboards, not that he needed to, and Emmett later expressed this.
“Are you sure?” Marty asked.
Emmett nodded. “Of course! What’s mine is yours. Take whatever you need.”
“…Thank you,” Marty said quietly.
“You’re welcome.” Emmett smiled.
But civil conversations such as this one were becoming few and far in between. More often than not, Marty was yelling something at Emmett, and Emmett was doing his best to keep his own emotions under control. It would do Marty no good for him to lash out as well. The kid was struggling enough.
To say it was difficult was an understatement.
On one particular day, emotions were running high, and the tension in the air was palpable. Emmett and Marty had argued twice already over minor things such as dishes, and a comment Emmett had made that Marty needed to get out more.
“Who’re you to tell me what to do?” Marty had said. “My mom? No, she’s in jail. Because of me. So get off my case.”
Emmett had pursed his lips and remained silent, and Marty had huffed and turned his back.
Now, Emmett was tinkering with a new idea of his, drawing up schematics and fiddling with scraps he thought he could piece together. He held out his hand. “Marty, would you be so kind and pass me that spanner?”
Mistake.
“I’m not your goddamn assistant,” Marty snapped.
Emmett looked up. Marty was standing there with his arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his face.
“Alright,” Emmett said slowly, straightening up. He retrieved the spanner himself.
“Is that the only reason you keep me around?” Marty asked suddenly.
“What?”
“To fetch your tools? Am I only worth something when I’m useful, is that it?”
Emmett shook his head. “Marty, that’s not it at all.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Marty challenged, voice breaking slightly. “Even before, you paid me to spend time with you.”
“That was different. It was the only way I could get you to stay without… forcing you to do something you—or I—didn’t want to do,” Emmett said.
Marty glared half-heartedly at him. “Why do you keep me around, Doc? Why do you want to spend time with someone like me? What do you get out of being around me?”
“Nothing!” Emmett stood up. “I just enjoy your company, Marty, simple as that.”
“People used to enjoy my company for different reasons,” Marty snarled.
Emmett felt sick at the reminder. “Well, I like being around you for who you are, not for anything you can offer me.”
“Do you even know how I got into this work, Doc?”
“No, Marty, I don’t,” Emmett said calmly. “I didn’t want to pry.”
Marty sat down heavily on the couch with a huff of exhaled air and Emmett followed. “It’s all thanks to Biff,” Marty said. “As soon as I turned eighteen, he cut me off.” Marty fumbled with his hands. “Told me I was old enough to work. Except he owned practically every business in the city, and the few he didn’t wouldn’t hire me because I was his stepson. I had nowhere to go. And then he told me… he told me…”
“It’s alright, Marty,” Emmett said.
“He told me ‘If only you were a woman. People would pay good money for someone like you.’” Marty swallowed and hung his head. “I had nothing else going for me, no way out as far as I could see. It was the only option I had left.”
Emmett took a deep breath. “Marty…”
“Don’t say it, Doc. You don’t know how desperate I was just to make some money to get myself out of there.”
“…You’re right. I don’t,” Emmett conceded. “But I am sorry you felt like you had no other option. I’m sorry Tannen forced you into it.”
Marty wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “He didn’t force me. In the end, I chose it.”
“He cut you off,” said Emmett. “He gave you no other choice.” The bastard, Emmett tacked on internally. If the man weren’t already dead and cold…
“But I did have a choice,” Marty muttered bitterly.
“Going hungry is no choice at all, Marty.”
Marty went quiet for a long moment. “Why are you so nice to me, Doc?”
Emmett blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You should hate me!” Marty exclaimed. “I’m an ex-rent boy. I’m Biff Tannen’s stepson. I killed him. I’ve been treating you horribly recently, but you’re still so nice. I don’t understand it.”
“Marty, I’m nice to you because you deserve a bit of kindness. Especially after what you’ve been through.” Emmett laid a hand on Marty’s shoulder. “I don’t care about who you were or what you did. You’re still so young, and you deserve a good life.”
“Do I?” Marty looked up at him with tear-shined eyes.
“Of course you do.” Emmett’s hand went to Marty’s other shoulder and he drew the kid in close. Of course Marty wasn’t used to being cared for. He hadn’t been spared a shred of kindness by the universe probably since he was really young, young enough that he couldn’t remember.
“You know,” Marty began suddenly, “sometimes, when I was sick, mom would bring me soup or a hot water bottle or something. But Biff would always catch her. Say I was old enough to take care of myself, or that it was just a cold, that I could take care of myself. After that, whenever I got sick or hurt or anything, I just… patched myself up and got over it. I learned quickly no one was gonna be around to give a damn about me, so I did it myself.” He sniffed. “And then you came along.”
Emmett stayed silent and waited for Marty to continue.
“You actually want me around. You were willing to pay me just to sit there. I didn’t know what to think. Well, actually, I thought you were some crazy old man going senile or something,” Marty half-joked. “Most people either hate my guts or only want me for their own gain. But… with you, it’s neither. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why you don’t hate me.”
“I can’t hate someone who’s been used ill by the universe and the people in it,” Emmett said.
Marty shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Doc. For yelling at you. And spilling all this on you. And… for being such a messed-up person. You shouldn’t have to deal with me.”
“Marty, I am more than happy to ‘deal with you’, as you put it,” Emmett promised. “It has been a privilege to get to know you, and I look forward to a long future together.”
Marty smiled wetly. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s said something that nice to me.”
Oh, Marty. Emmett squeezed him tighter, and the kid gave a small laugh.
“Okay, okay, don’t suffocate me.”
“Sorry. But I do mean what I said. I’ll enjoy your company for however long you choose to stay here.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Marty ran his hand through his hair. “I think it’ll just take me some time, you know? To get used to everything.”
“Take as much time as you need,” Emmett said.
“And- and I’ll fetch as many tools as you need me to,” Marty blurted. “I’ll be your assistant, if that’s what you want.”
Emmett chuckled. “Having an assistant would be nice. But I think I’d much prefer a friend.”
Marty blinked, and it didn’t go unnoticed to Emmett how the tension appeared to leech from his shoulders, and a new, slightly bewildered smile played on his lips. “I haven’t had a friend in a long time.”
“Well, you have one now,” Emmett said, patting his shoulder.
They were silent for a minute, sitting there on the couch, until Marty spoke up. “Doc?”
“Hm?”
Marty shifted in place, not meeting Emmett’s eyes. “I’m glad I met you.”
Emmett smiled. “So am I, Marty. So am I.”