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Alternate Hill Valley, 1971—
Doc’s homecoming was worse than anything his nightmares had ever produced.
He had already felt a crushing guilt on account of the Cold War getting hot and launching into a full-fledged war—he was, after all, party to the start of nuclear warfare from his work on the Manhattan Project.
Knowing the secrets of splitting the atom, Doc’s brain was a valuable resource wanted by both sides. For his own safety, he had been whisked away from Hill Valley by government agents, knowing that it would be a likely target.
He hadn’t wanted to go—not without ensuring that his fellow townsfolk would be protected, as well. But after being reassured that the residents would be evacuated by train, Doc had left with the agents.
His first thought that something suspicious was going on was the fact that, no matter where he went, an agent was always shadowing him, claiming that someone with his knowledge needed bodyguards. And said bodyguards were insistent upon him not being able to contact anyone in Hill Valley. And there were so many back-and-forth “discussions” (bitter arguments, really) during the nights between the agents and two members of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement about whether or not his “protective custody” was, in fact, a cover to eventually get him back into assisting with the creation of nuclear weapons. Doc would pretend to be asleep and try to listen in.
And it had been on one such night that he had overheard the words that caused his blood to freeze in his veins.
“You already lied to him about evacuating the residents of Hill Valley before it was hit,” one of the men from U.N.C.L.E. accused his bodyguards.
“He never would have left otherwise,” one of the bodyguards retorted. “Brown’s knowledge and experience is vital to the war effort, and we had to make it seem to the world that the enemy had succeeded in eliminating him; we had to get him out without causing a scene, or the cat would’ve been left out of the bag!”
That did it. At that point, Doc had leaped from the bed to punch the startled bodyguard in the room with him; unprepared, the bodyguard hit the wall, out cold, and Doc dove out the window of the safehouse he was in.
He had been planning to run, but noticed that the keys of the U.N.C.L.E. car had been “accidentally” left in the ignition—and a note on the dashboard from one of the men from U.N.C.L.E. had left no doubts that this had been for his benefit.
While knowing this could have been another trap, it was clear that U.N.C.L.E.’s track record with the scientist had been significantly better than his “protectors” had been. Nevertheless, after he had driven a safe enough distance away, Doc had abandoned the U.N.C.L.E. car and had hitchhiked his way back to Hill Valley… or, as it turned out, what had remained of it, for the men from U.N.C.L.E. had spoken the truth; Doc’s hometown had been reduced to piles upon piles of rubble—not from a nuclear strike, but a barrage of incendiary bombs, which had left the remnants of the town still smoldering.
His palatial mansion had been the hardest hit, of course—years of sketches and notes on the flux capacitor that he had envisioned in 1955 had been reduced to ashes, but even that, he knew, was a lower priority than finding out what had happened to the rest of the townsfolk.
To Doc’s immense relief, there had been survivors; most of them having holed up in fallout shelters and were now centered in the hospital, which—after the destruction of City Hall and the surrounding Clocktower Square—was now doubling as the city’s nerve center, headed by a weary Goldie Wilson, who had been the most senior survivor of the City Council, who looked stunned to see Doc there.
“Doctor Brown!?”
Doc, his expression hollow, shook his head.
“This is all my fault—”
“No, Doctor,” Goldie insisted.
“Oh, come on! They only attacked Hill Valley because of me!” Doc yelled. “And our own side decided that you were all expendable because I know the secret to killing more people and didn’t even tell you that there was a giant target painted on the town!”
“…We did know,” Goldie sighed. “Mayor Thomas knew, at least—he filled the fallout shelters with as many people as he could. Then he ordered us to take shelter, too… He was last seen trying to get as many people as he could to go into the shelter in City Hall.”
He trailed off as a loud wailing was heard from the room next door. Goldie paused his paperwork to check on the toddler—Doc right behind him. The boy had tears rolling down his cheeks, and had clearly woken up from a night terror.
“Poor kid is petrified,” Goldie sighed. “He was one of the only survivors up near Lyon Estates, which was the first to get hit—they weren’t able to make it to the shelters in time…” He shook his head. “They found this little guy in a pile of rubble that was once a house—parents, brother, sister… all dead.”
“Does he have any family left who can take care of him?” Doc asked, instinctively taking the boy’s hand—prompting the trembling child to squeeze Doc’s thumb.
“None; that’s why I’ve been doing my work here—so I can look after him. Hospital staff is stretched so thin, as you can imagine—they have more critical things to do than babysit.”
“Well, so do you…” Doc pointed out.
“Look, my family made it—others in this town aren’t so lucky,” Goldie said. “Everyone’s got the pieces of their lives to pick up—I’ve got less than most, so I can afford to expend some energy.”
Doc sighed, looking at the hospital bracelet around the sniffling child’s wrist.
McFly, Martin S.
“…It’s my fault he lost his family; the responsibility of caring for him should fall on me,” he said.
“Doctor, please—you can’t adopt all the orphans in town because of this,” Goldie sighed. “It’s not as though you wanted this to happen!”
“Let me, at least, adopt this one—you have your work cut out for you, patching up what’s left of Hill Valley,” Doc pointed out. “You don’t need to add babysitting duty to that!”
Goldie bit his lip.
“…You’ve still got a target on your back, Doctor.”
“I know,” Doc sighed. “But I know who to turn to; U.N.C.L.E. can give me a place to hide—and this kid will be safe with them, too.”
“Doctor, the paperwork involved…! There’s no time…!” Goldie began, but he trailed off as the toddler—alone in the world now—still clung to the scientist’s thumb like a lifeline. “…You know what? Paperwork probably got burned up, too—no way to tell what was signed or not. You’re right—I’ve got work to do.” He paused. “Take care, Doctor—both of you.”
“Thanks, Goldie. I’ll try to keep in touch,” Doc promised, as he picked the toddler up—the child immediately threw his little arms around Doc’s neck and buried his face in his shoulder.
“Just don’t make yourself a target,” Goldie warned.
“I won’t,” Doc promise, indicating the child. “I’ve got him to think of.”
They exchanged their goodbyes, and Doc hastily made his exit, hoping to find some way to get in touch with U.N.C.L.E. before they found themselves in another warzone—or in the sights of someone else wanting the nuclear knowledge he possessed.
He paused outside the hospital to catch his breath, and he finally addressed the child.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Martin.”
“Marty,” the boy corrected him; though there were still tears in his eyes, he looked up at Doc with a wrinkled nose to show his disdain for being addressed by the full form of his given name.
“My apologies, Marty,” Doc corrected himself. “My name is Emmett.”
“…A mitt…en? Mitten!”
“No, it’s… You know what, you can just call me ‘Doc,’ alright?”
“Doc,” the boy repeated.
“Right,” he sighed. “Look, I… I know I’ll never be able to replace your family, but I’ll do my darndest to look after you, alright? You’re not alone anymore.”
Marty gave him a little nod and buried his face in his shoulder again.
And as Doc continued off into the ruins of Hill Valley, his precious new charge in his arms. Minutes ago, he had been ready to give up and surrender to whoever wanted to do whatever they wanted to him, sure that his life had no further meaning now that the world was aflame.
But now he had a reason to keep going.