Chapter Text
“NOOOOOOOOOO!”
Doc was jolted awake from his sleep from a frantic yelling in his guest room; beside him, he could hear a worried gasp from Clara.
“Marty…!? Oh, he sounds terrified…!”
“I’ll check on him,” Doc said. “Can you look in on Jules and Verne? I don’t want them to get worried in case…”
“Right,” Clara nodded; she went one way down the corridor as Doc went the other way, knocking on the guest room door.
“Marty!?” he called. “Marty, are you alright!?”
There was a long pause, which caused Doc some nervousness until Marty finally was able to speak—
“Y-yeah, Doc, I’m… I’m fine…”
A wave of guilt washed over Doc; he had a pretty good reason as to what had upset Marty, and he knew he was largely responsible.
“May I come in, Marty?”
“Sure…”
Marty was hurriedly drying his eyes as Doc entered, prompting Doc’s expression to soften even further.
“What was it this time?” he asked, gently.
Marty looked embarrassed and mumbled something; Doc managed to discern the words “parking lot” and “radiation poisoning.”
“Oh, Marty…”
“I’m sorry, Doc.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“For making that all about me when… when you were the one who actually went through all that…!” Marty fumed, clearly furious with himself. “I should be trying to help you through it, not… this.”
“Marty, there are no ‘rules’ for how things like that affect us,” Doc assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are my apprentice and my best friend—and in this timeline, my godson, too. I worry about you the same way I worry about Jules and Verne—you know I always have, regardless of the timeline.”
Marty gave him a still-embarrassed look.
“They’re kids, Doc; you’re supposed to comfort them after their nightmares—you shouldn’t have to do the same for an 18-year-old just because he can’t keep it together.”
“Nightmares don’t discriminate based on age,” Doc sighed, and then he winced involuntarily; witnessing Mad Dog Tannen shooting Marty at point-blank range had, indeed, done a number on him, much like his radiation poisoning had done for Marty. Even with Marty’s stove door vest, if that bullet had been just a little bit off in any direction, the armor wouldn’t have mattered at all—and, more than once, that scenario and its aftermath played out in his own nightmares. “…I ought to know.”
“I’m sorry about that, too…” Marty sighed, realizing what Doc had been thinking about without needing to be told. “I had to save you—I couldn’t lose you again…!” He looked away, shutting his eyes and trying to hold back a sob.
Doc didn’t know what to say and just drew Marty into a hug; Marty continued to do his best to control his emotions, but Doc could feel the suppressed sobs.
Marty’s exhaustion eventually caught up with him, and he crashed back to sleep; Doc tucked him back in and, with a heavy sigh, headed back to his room, where Clara was waiting up for him.
“Jules and Verne are fine—how is Marty?” she asked.
Doc sat down on his side of the bed and sighed again.
“Oh, Emmett…”
“He keeps trying to apologize to me—I’m the one who put him through all of this…!” Doc fretted, allowing a few tears of his own to slip out. “Sometimes I wonder if… if maybe he would’ve been better off if… if we’d never met.”
“Emmett, how can you even think that!?” Clara chided. “You remember what his life was like in the old timeline; he needed you—you were there for him when no one else was!”
“He might’ve gotten the help he needed from someone else…” Doc mused. “Surely I’m not the only one who would’ve stepped up to help him…!”
“But it was you,” Clara said. “And you needed him as a son just as much as he needed you as a parent. You wouldn’t really throw that away, would you!?”
“No, of course not,” Doc assured her. “But… I can’t help but wonder what his life would have been like.”
“Why would you want to know, Emmett?” Clara asked, shaking her head. “I’m sure it would be worse—why would you want to see that? And on the off chance that it would’ve been better—which I highly doubt—that would only increase your guilt.”
“It’s the hazard of being a scientist, I guess…” Doc mused. “You always want the answer to a question—even if you won’t like the answer.”
“I understand, Emmett—but there are some things you just don’t want to manifest.”
“…Maybe you’re right,” Doc admitted. “But what am I going to do to be able to help Marty now?”
“The same thing you’ve always done—be there for him. And don’t forget—I’m here to help, too. And, in their own way, so are the boys.” She smiled. “But you and Marty have something very precious, and no matter what, you both find the way to help each other, and this won’t be any different—you’ll see.”
“I hope so…”
“I know so,” she insisted. “Now try to get some sleep—and try not to think about awful things like you and Marty never meeting. No good could ever come out of that.”
Doc responded with a hum of deep thought as he laid back on his pillow, shutting his eyes. Clara turned the light off and laid down beside him, gently running the back of her hand against his cheek in a comforting gesture.
He sighed. He had been honest about not wanting to change anything—but that was his own selfish wish of not wanting to be alone now that he knew what it was like to have someone in his corner—someone who was the first one to be like family to him, and had led him to the rest of his family.
I’m sorry, Marty. I’m sorry for everything.