Chapter Text
Doc’s head was pounding as he returned to awareness. He struggled to open his eyes—and promptly gave a pained cringe as the light proved to be too bright for him. He shut his eyes again, trying to recall what had happened and how he could’ve lost consciousness.
Ah, yes, he had been at the junkyard with Marty, looking for parts to help with the refurbishing of the DeLorean into the time machine he knew it would eventually become. There had been an old computer motherboard lodge near the top of a mountain of scrap—just perfect for the time circuits.
…Obviously, he had attempted to retrieve it from the pile despite his fear of heights (even if his climb up the clock tower in 1955 had proven that he could set his fear aside if need be) and had, undoubtedly, fallen and knocked himself out.
Even with his eyes closed, he could sense the presence of someone leaning over him, and he managed a pained chuckle.
“I’m alright, Marty…” he began, but then he trailed off.
He quickly realized that the presence was not of his friend and lab assistant—and, in this timeline, also godson. It was a cold presence, lacking any of Marty’s concern and care.
So, the question now raised itself—where was Marty?
…And, come to think of it… where was he?
Once again, Doc tried to force his eyes open, squinting as a piercing light was on his face—the light from a bright lamp.
“Wh… where…?”
“Ah, Dr. Brown, you are awake,” a man’s voice said from somewhere behind the light. Doc couldn’t see him the way the light was positioned, and he couldn’t place the voice, either, but the voice did sound familiar. “It certainly has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
…So whoever it was did know him—but from where?
“Why…? Ah!” Doc began; he had tried to stand up, but had helped upon finding himself bound to a chair—his limbs and torso were wrapped with rope, tying him to the chair.
“You will forgive me, of course,” the man replied. “The restraints are necessary until I can fully assess your state of mind.”
“…Who are you?” Doc asked.
“You don’t recognize me? I’m disappointed—you’re supposed to have a brilliant mind. Ah, but it has been a long time, and while you only met me briefly, it is I who has been following your career.”
Doc blinked.
“…That answers nothing,” he said. “Why are you holding me here—and why am I even here in the first place!?”
“I needed to talk to you after you outright refused to hear me out last month when I called you.”
“A month ago? What…?”
“I’m afraid that my temper got the best of me after you snubbed me,” the man continued. “I retaliated in anger, and in doing so, caused some damage to your residence—and I will admit that, initially, my plan had been to eliminate you. But, in the end, I’m glad you survived that fire—it’s given us this second chance.”
Doc suddenly froze; now it all made sense—he had received a phone call from a month ago demanded that he lend his knowledge of nuclear science to some unspecified crusade. And, after refusing, he had found himself knocked out, waking up in a hospital after being notified that Marty and his father George had found him—inside his burning lab.
Doc’s blood turned even colder in his veins.
Marty…
Another piece of his memory returned from the junkyard, just as he had been preparing to climb the junk pile and get that circuit board…
“Doc, you probably shouldn’t be climbing that—let me…”
“No no no no—I don’t want you getting hurt, Marty!”
“Well, I don’t want you getting hurt either, Doc! And between the two of us, I, er… I have the benefit of youth.”
He had arched an eyebrow at his apprentice at that.
“Are you insinuating—?”
He had been cut off by a gunshot—and the sound of a bullet ricocheting somewhere off of the pile of metal junk.
“Doc!?”
Doc had instinctively grabbed Marty’s arm to guide him away from the danger as another bullet just missed them…
Doc snapped back to the present with a gasp, realizing that he hadn't seen or heard any sign of Marty since waking up.
“Marty!?” he called. “Marty!?”
“I beg your pardon?” his captor asked.
“The boy who was with me—my apprentice! Where is he!?”
“Ah, yes, the author’s son—your godson. That’s the family you’ve been staying with at Lyon Estates since the fire.”
Doc felt a horrifying tightening of his chest. Whoever this was, he had been keeping all of them under surveillance—just as he had feared would happen. He had argued so much with George that his staying with them would put them in danger, but George had insisted—and now…
“Where… where is he…?” Doc asked again, his voice a terrified whisper.
“…I hadn't wanted things to go this way, Doctor,” the man said, with almost a trace of regret.
“Where’s Marty!?” Doc yelled, his voice cracking.
There was a pause, and his captor sighed.
“I am sorry, Doctor. Truly, I am. But I couldn’t have any witnesses.”
“NO!” Doc cried, his entire world crashing down upon him as his mind raced with the calamity that was going to unfold. The timeline…! The Future Boy…! The paradox…! …My best friend…!
“Doctor—”
“Do you realize what you’ve done!?” Doc howled. The fabric of reality would soon collapse upon itself once the ripple effect kicked in, but, more than that, he had lost the boy who was like a son to him—who had been his godson in this timeline…!
“I did what I had to, Doctor,” the man said. “And now, you must, too. I’ll give you a moment—use your anger and sorrow for the cause now.”
There was the sound of footsteps walking away, and then a door opening and closing, but Doc didn’t hear them; all he could hear was the blood rushing in his head.
“MARTY…!” he sobbed, tears coursing down his cheeks.
And, miles away in a junkyard, an unconscious boy awoke with a gasp, despite his pain.
“…Doc…?”