Chapter Text
Oct. 4th 1931 C.E.
The brown wool suit Marty wore was stiff, itchy, and much too warm for the weather. He was acutely aware of his discomfort, restraining himself from frantically scratching or pulling at the jacket. Marty was never much of a suit guy, and after this experience he might never wear one again.
It was early afternoon, and Marty was milling about the town square, looking for some kind of lead on where he might find Doc’s younger self. With his Doc locked in jail, it was Marty’s only hope to free him.
“You! Young Man!” a stern voice called from his left. Marty turned his head to see a young, black-haired woman standing behind a table covered in pamphlets.
“Me?” Marty questioned weakly.
“I am a local journalist reporting on dereliction of our great town of Hill Valley. Tell me, how do you feel about the moral decay sweeping our streets?” she asked quickly.
“Who wants to know?” Marty wasn’t even sure what she was asking him.
“As I said, I’m a local journalist. My name is Edna Strickland,” she replied testily.
Marty’s eyes widened. It was crazy to think this was the same Edna Strickland whose apartment he visited in 1985.
“Uh, well, you know, there should be no tolerance for, uh,” he stammered, “hooligans in our streets.”
She pondered for a moment before beaming a smile at him.
“I agree with your assertion, Mister…?” she trailed off.
“Corleone. Micheal Corleone,” Marty offered her a hand shake.
“I’m actually here,” he began, “to meet with an old friend. His name is Emmett Brown, do you know where I could find him?”
Edna raised an eyebrow at the mention of Doc’s name, “The judge’s son? He’s normally at the courthouse, he often works late.”
“Thank you, Edna,” the name felt odd on Marty’s tongue, “I appreciate it.”
“No trouble at all!” she answered, “And please sir, if you run into any rabblerousers report them to your nearest police officer.”
“Yes ma’am,” was all Marty could manage as he fled toward the courthouse on the other side of the square.
He sat on a bench facing the doors of the courthouse. Marty was prepared for a long wait, but it wasn’t long before Emmett walked out of the courthouse with none other than his grandfather Artie. Grandpa Artie looked like he was about have a nervous breakdown, clutching an envelope while Emmett looked to be giving him a lecture.
Marty was entranced at the sight of Emmett. His red curls looked like fire in the light, framing the young, freckled face in a halo. The grey trousers hung off hiss lanky frame, held in place by navy suspenders. His eyes trailed up Emmett’s torso, taking in the loose white dress shirt with a navy bow tie. Chocolate eyes made Marty’s heart melt, and the rest of the world fell away from him.
It was in this moment, Marty unknowingly fell totally in love with Doc Brown. Jennifer didn’t hold a candle anymore. Doc was someone he could trust completely, have wholly and faithfully. Marty had cameos in almost every era of Doc’s life; his many lifetimes. Beautiful lives of creation and love, but also of pain and longing. He would never get to enjoy Emmett in this way again. A weaker man would try to stay here forever. Marty wanted to stay here forever, and he knew he would want Doc, forever. There was no turning back from this.
“Emmett!” Marty called out to his confused red-head, and ran away from his own train of thought.
–
January 13th, 1986 C.E.
[8 weeks since Marty’s disappearance]
Lorraine McFly opened her front door to reveal a short, stout man. His thick salt and pepper hair stuck out around the arms of his aviator sunglasses. He wore a charcoal suit with a yellow dress shirt, accented by his gold cross necklace.
“Hank Pfeiffer?” she asked him.
“The one and only,” he replied gruffly.
She opened her door and led him into the living room, where he sat on their cream loveseat. Hank refused her offer of water or coffee, so she grabbed her binder of documents and sat on the nearby chair. He was a Private Investigator all the way from L.A., hopefully here to uncover new leads in Marty’s case.
“So you think you can find my son?” she questioned him.
“The short answer, possibly,” he stated plainly. “The long answer begins with, your son’s case intrigues me, which is why I’m doing this pro bono.”
Lorraine wasn’t surprised to hear this. One media engagement turned into many, and Lorraine had come to expect certain questions about the ‘strange circumstances’ of Marty’s disappearance.
Hank continued, “There is the obvious things; the impossibly exploded shed, the lack of any physical remains, the forensic evidence suggesting they never left the property. But it just keeps compounding the further down you look.”
He pulled out a small notebook and read off it as he continued, “The facts all point toward some crazy conspiracy like aliens or a government experiment. But I’m a fan of Occam’s Razor, and I think there has to have been something that was overlooked. What was going on in Marty’s personal life before he disappeared?”
Lorraine cleared her throat, “Well, it wasn’t a great time for Marty. But he never seemed particularly bothered about his break-up with Jennifer. I just felt that it all happened so quickly. He spent months planning to ask her out. Then, in just a couple of weeks, he went from head over heels in love to breaking up.”
Hank considered this before asking, “Is there anyone else he could be dating?”
“I don’t believe so,” Lorraine answered, “Besides Jennifer, he had practice with his band a couple times a week. And his job with Doctor Brown.”
“So he worked for Doc Brown?” Hank asked.
“Less of a real job, and more…volunteer,” Lorraine struggled to find the right word to describe Marty’s arrangement with Doc Brown. “Doctor Brown is a old colleague of my husband’s, Marty mostly cares for his dog and helps with his experiments.”
“You don’t think Doc Brown might have had any involvement here, do you?” said Hank.
“Heavens, no,” Lorraine exclaimed. “If I thought he might have any ill intentions toward Marty, I would have ended their arrangement a long time ago.”
Hank sighed, “Well, let’s start by interviewing his ex girlfriend, and go from there. She might have a different perspective on this situation.”
Lorraine nodded. She didn’t appreciate the line of questioning, but she couldn’t deny it might be good to talk to Jennifer.
“Let’s do it,” she told Hank.
–
Jan. 9th 986 C.E.
The 16 days that had passed since Christmas Day were a haze of self-loathing and quiet depression for Marty. They always started with him waking to sounds of Doc getting dressed to exit the galais dungal early in the morning. Marty would pretend to be asleep. This prevented any eye contact or conversation. It also prevented him from being emotionally crushed if he didn’t receive either of those things.
Marty rarely left the cabin of his own will anymore, aided by the lack of chores in the winter weather. He would skip breakfast, preferring to lay in bed instead. Once the morning meal ended, Koko would stop by, asking Marty if there was anything he needed. Mostly, Marty would just send her away, embarrassed by his current state. Then he’d skip lunch, and by this time sleep would no longer come to him. He spent his afternoons organizing and reorganizing his few belongings obsessively, and he no longer bathed at the hot spring.
Koko would drag him outside for dinner every night. She would make his bowl, and he’d sit far away from the group. He ignored any attempts to pull him into conversation, instead preferring to sneak glances at Doc across the fire. Most nights Doc took his meal with Quelatikan, and Marty would watch them laugh and joke as if he wasn’t right there drowning. He never stayed at dinner long.
Returning to his bed, he sought comfort from anything he could find. His 1985 clothes had been abandoned for a full set of hide clothing, so they now served as his nightly security blanket. He would take the clothes to his bed and hold them, inhaling the scent and feeling the blue denim in his fingers until he fell asleep.
Today started much the same, though Doc spent much longer rummaging around the cabin. When the noises finally ceased, Marty ‘awoke’ to most of Doc’s personal belongings gone from their resting places. Marty felt as though he was dipped in an ice bath. He laid there still and shaking, considering the ramifications. Considering that Doc might actually leave him for the coast.
Koko did not come by after the morning meal and Marty was grateful. He hadn’t moved from his beadstead, and had no intentions to. His daily routine really flipped itself on its head when Doc appeared shortly before lunch with words only to crush him.
“Sit up, Marty,” Doc said softly, “I need to speak with you.”
Marty silently did as he was told, wrapping his fur blanket around his shoulders.
“I said it in haste the other day, but I spoke with Chief Dyami and I think it would be best if I do relocate to the coast, further away from this tribe. You have connections here now, that can aid you once I leave. It will be some time in the early spring, I’ll be leaving with the trading party. Until then, I’ve been offered a separate dwelling.”
Marty felt tears rolling down his cheeks but didn’t look up or attempt to speak.
“I see now, that keeping you so close was a mistake,” Doc let out a pained sigh. Marty wheezed through the tears.
“I am much too old for you to feel this way about me. And the things I feel for you in turn…” Doc balled his fists and gritted his teeth.
“Well, I really must be a twisted old man.”
Doc stepped back, “Find a girl, Marty. Settle down and make a family. Live a life. I’m sorry.”
Marty was left alone once more.
–
The tears came for nonstop for hours. A part of Marty was surprised that it was Alameda, not Koko, that came to him shortly before dinner time.
“You are a sad sight to behold,” Alameda said as she laid eyes on him. Marty just curled further into his blankets.
She moved toward him and sat down on the edge of his beadstead, like a mother would for a young child. She placed a comforting hand on his back.
“Koko told me the truth about why you’ve been absent the last weeks,” she started. “I assure you, your feelings for Doc were not so obvious. I merely assumed he was an older family member.”
Marty blinked at that sitting up beside her.
“But, you truly do love him, don’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Marty croaked, “I do. But a relationship like ours isn’t so common where we’re from. It’s… looked down upon.”
“Well, it’s certainly not the norm here either,” she countered. “But that’s not what I asked you. I asked if you love him, and you do. Why should anyone else matter?”
Marty twiddled his thumbs, “We’ve been through so much… I agree. I don’t care what anyone thinks. But Doc doesn’t feel the same. He thinks it is wrong, even though he loves me too.”
Saying it out loud left Marty breathless. Doc loved him too.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Marty said.
“Everything we told you was true. We were lost in the woods, hoping to find shelter at the lake, when Doc fell and we met all of you. But before that, we… came from far, far away,” he finished inelegantly.
“How so?” she questioned.
“Doc built this machine, this tool, that takes you to different times. We’re from the future.”
Alameda pulled her hand back and sat to consider this, “That would explain a lot.”
She took her hand in his as she told him, “And, I’m guessing you have no way home. But that’s irrelevant now. That last thing you do have, your person, is leaving. It may feel like your life is ending, but you are the only one who could convince him otherwise. He wouldn’t hear it from me or anyone else.”
She kissed the back of his hand and left him alone to his thoughts.
Marty wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at the wall. There were certain realities that Marty had to come to terms with when he realized his own feeling towards Doc. The reality that most of Doc’s life was behind him, and that Marty only had a tiny sliver of it to join. The reality that most of Marty’s life was ahead of him, and that he was looking down the barrel of a long widowhood.
But it wasn’t just the brevity of it all that Marty had to accept. He had to accept how much of Emmett he missed, simply by being born too late.
And all of this acceptance made Marty angry. If he had to swallow all this sadness, tuck his pain away so he could actually enjoy the good times, why the hell couldn’t Doc. Why couldn’t Doc accept him?
Hot with flush, bile rising in the back of his throat, Marty fastened shoes to his feet and threw a cloak over his clothing. He stormed out his cabin. The evening meal was still going on, and Marty saw Doc in his usual spot. He moved swiftly, every step taken with purpose, and grabbed Doc’s wrist with an iron grip.
“M-Marty,” Doc protested, but Marty ignored him.
With a strength that seemed impossible from such a lithe frame, Marty tugged Doc straight away from camp in into the forest.