A/N: RUN FER IT MERTY!

*ahem* Sorry, anyway, I've been watching this trilogy over and over and over for ages, meaning to write something for it and, well, here we are! Sorry if it's a little angsty, it's just what a) I like writing best and b) I am best at writing. I felt like writing something aside from what I have been writing recently. I tried to keep them as close to their characteristics as possible. I'll probably continue this at some point, but with school and stuff I'll just have to see how much free time I get.

You know what they say, if you put your mind to it you can accomplish anything! *shot*

Anyway, onward!

…..

"Noooo! You bastards!"

It had all happened so fast. All because of some damned terrorists. One minute the scientist was jumping around like mad, thrilled that his invention had worked; the next he was lying on the ground, rapidly bleeding to death.

Marty felt his heart in his throat. He darted forward to attempt to help his friend, forgetting about the group of Libyan terrorists mere feet from him. They opened fire, causing the teenager to run round the van to avoid the shower of bullets. The Libyans drove forward, catching Marty in the headlights of the wagon. The teen froze - this couldn't be happening. The Libyan at the top of the wagon pulled the trigger and the single remaining bullet flew out, striking Marty square in the stomach. His knees crumpled beneath him and his head hit the cold concrete.

The sound hit him before the pain. The sound of tyres on asphalt as the terrorists drove off quickly, leaving the teenager and the scientist on the ground. Marty couldn't feel his legs, his hands or - well, anything for that matter - beyond the searing, burning pain spreading across his chest like fire across paper. He was only vaguely aware of liquid soaking through his t-shirt, then his shirt, then his jacket.

He lifted his head up weakly, his vision already beginning to spin. He had to get help. If he didn't, both of them would be dead long before the mall opened. His eyes landed on a telephone box maybe twenty yards from him. Gathering up every last milligram of strength left in him, the teenager struggled to his feet, one hand on the van next to him for support, the other clutching his stomach in an attempt to slow the flow of blood. His hand left a bloody smear along the side of the van.

That twenty yards was to be the toughest fight of his life so far.

It hurt, oh boy did it hurt. Edging along the side of the van was the easy part. The hard part, however, was the fifteen yards between the end of the van and the phone booth, across a space of open parking lot that seemed as long as a football pitch.

Man up, McFly. You can do it. Just one foot at a time, Marty told himself as his arms shook and his legs threatened to give way beneath him. If he could just make it to that booth, he figured, he could die satisfied knowing that he had at least made some effort to get help.

Ten yards left.

His legs were aching and his head was spinning from the blood loss, but he had to keep going. He couldn't stop now, not when he was halfway there. If he gave up now, both of them would die. He managed a look over his shoulder at his unconscious friend, before turning and focusing back on his destination. His blurring feet took him slowly, gradually closer to that holy grail of a phone booth.

Five yards.

This was it, he was going to die as soon as he made it. His body was screaming at him to let go, to give up. Its protests came in the form of blood rising in his throat and escaping from the sides of his mouth. He coughed, and the red liquid hit the ground in small droplets. The evening light hit it at such an angle that it appeared to cast the whole parking lot in a red glow. He was so close, he couldn't give up now.

With a gasp, his soaked hands grasped onto the telephone and he shakily typed in the three life-saving numbers. With a few rings, a very tired-sounding woman answered.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"H-help…" Marty choked. The blood was making it hard to talk, and it didn't help that he was so dizzy and so tired and in so much pain. "We've b-been shot… Twin Pines Mall… we need help…"

His legs finally gave way beneath him and he cold floor seemed like a feather mattress to him in his current state. His vision was fading fast. The phone had fallen from his hands and hung by the cord, swinging left and right in front of him. The lady's voice vanished and the call ended as she rushed to get help.

Marty's eyes were closed. His hearing was muffled, as though he were underwater. The last thing he heard before losing all consciousness was a faint siren getting closer.

Bright light. Soft bedsheets. A faint beeping noise and heavy breathing. These are what awaited the teenager the next time he awoke. The light blinded him, causing him to squint and wince as his pupils shrunk.

"MARTY!"

That voice sounded familiar, but in his hazed state he failed to recognise it. That was until the tear-stricken face of his mother swam towards him through the fuzz of his vision.

"M-mom…?" Marty weakly croaked. His throat was sore and his chest hurt and he was so tired. The oxygen mask over his mouth rubbed against his face slightly, but the cool fresh oxygen it provided meant that he didn't want to take it off.

"Oh sweetheart thank goodness you're alright! We've been worried sick!" Lorraine exclaimed, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "What were you doing at the mall at half one in the morning?!"

Marty coughed a bit before answering. "Doc phoned, he wanted to show me his new invention…" he mumbled, before his eyes widened and he tried to sit up. "DOC!-ow!"

Lorraine held him down. "Don't sit up, you're hurt. As for Doc, let me go and get a nurse," she said as she stood up, heading towards the door.

Marty waited impatiently for her to return. Doc was his best friend, he had to be okay. The scientist must have had something up his sleeve in case of an emergency situation such as that, he wouldn't be unprepared… would he? Marty shook his head; Doc was a smart guy, surely he would have thought about what could go wrong.

A nurse arrived a few minutes later, wearing a frown on her face. "I'm afraid that Emmett Brown is in a critical condition in the ICU. He suffered six bullet wounds to his chest and the surgeons were really fighting to keep him alive."

The news hit Marty like a freight train. Of course he was relieved that his friend was alive, but that relief turned to horror to hear that he might not make it. He wouldn't know what to do if Doc died. What would happen to the lab? To Einstein? All his possessions? He didn't have any relatives as far as he could tell, and therefore no next of kin. The inventor seemed too caught up in his work to find time for friends outside of Marty, so that idea seemed like a dead end too. Marty was the only person who really knew Doc well, and therefore the one who would be hit hardest if his friend passed away.

"C-can I see him?" he mumbled, looking up at the nurse with a hopeful gaze.

"I'm sorry, but you are in no fit state to leave this bed. You yourself almost perished, but if it hadn't been for you both you and Dr Brown would be dead." The nurse explained. "You will be under observation for forty-eight hours, and only when the doctors decide you're fit enough will you be able to visit your friend,"

Marty opened his mouth to protest, but realising the futility of the argument, he closed it again and nodded. There was no point arguing - after all, he knew Doc would be less than impressed if Marty hurt himself in an attempt to visit him. The nurse gave him a sad smile before exiting the room to return to her work.

The teenager relaxed into the pillows as Lorraine came back in, frowning. "Marty, I'm sorry about Dr Brown, I know you were his friend,"

"Am his friend," Marty corrected. "Doc isn't dead, he's gonna recover and he'll be just fine,"

Lorraine sighed. "...yes. He will be okay, now why don't you get some rest, hon?"

Marty nodded slowly, sinking into the pillows and pulling the covers up. The IV in his arm tugged a bit, so he laid his arm over the blankets. Lorraine kissed his forehead before heading out to let him get some sleep.

But the teenager couldn't sleep, no matter how tired he was or how hard he tried. His mind was wide awake, conjuring up images of his friend lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, IVs and the like. For the first time in his life (apart from when Biff had once threatened his father in front of him when he was a kid, but he would never admit that) Marty McFly was scared. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want Doc to be in critical condition. He didn't want any of this to have happened. Eventually his fatigue took over as he drifted off. However, sleep offered him no reassurance as his dreams were plagued with the same images, along with a replay of the night's events over and over. He murmured to himself in his sleep, shifting every so often but not once waking up.

The food at the hospital, Marty decided, was awful. It arrived late, cold and in tiny quantities. There was hardly any choice, neither option was particularly appetising and he'd rather just go home. Of course, still being under observation, he had to remain there. That didn't stop Lorraine and George bringing in sandwiches and other more-than-half-edible things from home for him. Jennifer had also stopped by with a couple of cupcakes for him, which the two of them had shared.

But even with the constant visits from his family and girlfriend, and even his Walkman to listen to, Marty still couldn't help but worry about Doc. After all as far as he knew the scientist was still seriously hurt, lying in a hospital bed with no-one but the monitors and IVs for comfort.

Soon enough, the forty-eight hour observation period ended and the doctors decided the teenager was well enough to go home. He was given strict instructions to take take it easy and not overexert himself. That meant no skateboarding until he was properly healed.

As soon as Marty was out of bed and back in his regular clothes (that hospital gown was itchy, uncomfortable and just plain awkward to be seen in) he headed straight to the front desk at the reception.

"Excuse me," he greeted the receptionist casually, "but I'd like to know which ward Emmett Brown is in,"

"Are you a family member?" The man behind the desk said, glancing up to look at the teen. He raised an eyebrow at him. "He's been moved from the ICU to another ward, but the staff there still don't want any old stranger visiting him."

Marty refrained from gulping. What was he supposed to do now? Tell the man that Doc didn't have any relatives and that he was a friend? Considering the fact that the staff clearly didn't want anyone visiting him who wasn't family, he opted for a lie. "I'm his nephew"

"Right," the man at the desk nodded and punched some buttons into his computer. "He's on the fifth floor, ward H, room 12,"

"Thanks," Marty grinned as he headed towards the elevator. He pressed the button for the fifth floor before standing in the corner, squeezed between an overweight guy who had clearly never heard of deodorant and the wall. Soon but not soon enough the doors opened with a ping and he walked out, heading towards ward H.

Right, room 12… Marty looked along the corridor at the numbers put up above the doors to each room. Doc was on this ward somewhere, the only question was where was room 12?

"Aha! There we go," the teen said to himself as he approached the room marked with a number 12. The door was left ajar, and, looking around quickly, Marty pushed it open and walked inside.

The sight that met him was what he had expected, to be honest. Doc was lying in bed, an IV in his right wrist and an oxygen mask over his face. He seemed thin, or maybe that was just because of the lighting in the room. Pulling up a chair, Marty sat next to him, sighing.

"Geeze Doc, this is a mess." he said quietly, more to himself than the man next to him. He looked from his feet to Doc and then back at the floor. "I've been worried sick about you for the last two days,"

Doc twitched slightly but otherwise remained still. There was a large amount of sedatives in his system that were making it hard to move. Not to mention he was still weak from the incident, so those factors combined meant it was likely that he wasn't going to be waking up any time soon.

"This is heavy…" Marty murmured miserably. He didn't know what else to say. After all, what could you say to someone who was unconscious? "I wish you'd just wake up…"

He sat like that for… he had no idea how long. His whole body was numb, yet his mind was in overdrive. What if Doc didn't make it? What if the Libyans came back to finish the job? What if someone found out about where the missing plutonium had gone and the scientist was arrested? It wasn't until a nurse came in to tell him that visiting hours were over that he snapped out of his thoughts.

He stood up, looking at Doc before going out the door. He didn't want to turn his back on his friend - it hurt to - but the rules were the rules. As he headed down the hall towards the double doors marking the exit of the ward, the nurse hurried to catch up with him. Marty turned around to look at her, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"He's awake," was all she said as she rushed back to room 12.

Marty stood there, stunned for a moment, before running after her. His heart was pounding. Doc was awake?! Surely all those sedatives should have kept him under for a while. He skidded into the room to find Doc still lying in bed, but with the oxygen mask gone. But what was most important was that his eyes were open, and he was smiling at the teenager with a trademark Doc grin.

"Doc!" Marty exclaimed, dashing over to the bed. "Thank God you're okay!"

Doc smiled. "I thought I was dead for sure, but I'm glad to see that you're alright too,"

Marty sat on the chair beside the bed. "I was only let out today. They kept me in bed for two days, and nobody would tell me how you were doing,"

Doc squeezed Marty's hand. "I'm fine, well not as fine as I'd like to be but you get the idea,"

Marty chuckled. "I guess, the hospital isn't the ideal vacation destination,"

The inventor laughed, but broke out coughing, sitting up slightly and leaning forward. Marty frowned, rubbing his back. "I'm really sorry this happened to ya, Doc,"

Doc shook his head as his coughing fit ended, lying back in the bed. "Nonsense, it wasn't your fault. If it's anyone's it's mine, I was the one who got you caught up in that mess."

"I agreed to turn up," Marty pointed out. "So I guess we're both as at fault as one another,"

Doc shrugged. "I suppose. But there is one thing I still don't know, if we were both shot then who dialled 911?"

"I did," Marty replied, biting his lower lip. "I managed to get to the phone in the parking lot before I passed out, I just managed to dial 911 and tell them where I was and what had happened,"

The scientist looked at him with an expression of surprise. "That was you?"

"I had to, Doc," Marty sighed, leaning back in his chair. "If I hadn't, we'd've both died." Looking back on it now, he cringed at how pathetic he must have looked. But then again, he was glad he did get to the phone - he'd saved both of their lives.

Doc nodded, yawning slightly. Marty glanced at him before standing up. "I should probably let you get some rest,"

"That would be best," A nurse piped up as she came to check on Doc. "Besides, visiting hours have long since ended. You had better go home and get some sleep yourself,"

"Right, I need to check on Einstein," Marty said, then at Doc's confused look, he added: "I asked my mom to bring him home with us so I could look after him while you're in the hospital,"

"That's very kind of you, Marty, I appreciate it," Doc smiled, yawning again. Marty headed for the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow," He said, giving a wave as he left.

Doc settled down in the bed once the teenager disappeared and yawned once more, before closing his eyes and attempting to get some sleep.

Marty took a slight detour on the way home, past the Twin Pines mall. The truck, the DeLorean and anything else that was there on that night was gone! The parking lot was empty, all that remained was some dried blood, shining on the asphalt in the evening light.

The teenager noticed his skateboard lying in the bushes at the edge of the lot, and quickly grabbing it, headed towards Doc's place. He could only hope that the DeLorean and Doc's truck were parked at the scientist's place.

The cool evening air made a nice change from the warm hospital Marty had spent the last two or three days in. Of course he would have preferred to skateboard to Doc's place, but being under the order from the hospital he decided it wasn't a good idea. So instead he walked, carrying the board under one arm.

It was rather frustrating, considering it took half an hour to walk to Doc's place when usually it would have taken five minutes on the board. Nonetheless when he arrived, he let himself in via the key hidden under the doormat (Doc REALLY needed to find a better place to put that key) and grabbed Einstein's bowl. He noticed the DeLorean was parked round the side of the building, which was good. The last thing either of them needed was that falling into the wrong hands. The van was also parked there.

Letting out a yawn, Marty locked up again and headed home, taking Einstein's bowl with him. He was absolutely exhausted and needed some serious sleep. He figured that he could get as much sleep as he liked over the next couple of days, seen that he'd had to cancel his trip to the lake with Jen on account of the car being wrecked. Anyway, he was on orders from the hospital to take it easy, and since he was so tired, that was fine by him.

Yawning again, Marty pushed his front door open and headed inside. The first "person" to greet him was Einstein, tail wagging and panting happily. Marty smiled, patting his head. "Hey there Einy,"

Einstein barked and licked his hand. Marty grinned as he headed into the kitchen and set down the dog's bowl. "There ya go, boy," he grinned before heading to get something to eat from the fridge. He noticed a sandwich laying on a plate along with a can of Pepsi Free. Grabbing both, he headed towards the couch after making sure Einstein was fed, plonking himself down and turning the television on.

Immediately a news report came up about the attack a couple of days ago. The camera footage showed the area of the mall parking lot sectioned off with police tape, along with a couple shots of footage of the teenager and the scientist being wheeled off to hospital on stretchers. The memory of what happened made Marty gag, and he quickly turned the TV off.

Einstein whined a little and laid his head on the teen's knee. Marty smiled slightly and stroked his head, scratching the dog behind his ear. Einstein's tail wagged a little and he licked Marty's hand.

"Thanks Einy," he smiled.

"Marty?" George's voice could be heard from down the hall. "Son?"

"In here Dad," Marty called over the back of the sofa. Footsteps gradually grew louder as George McFly came over, sitting next to his son.

"How are you feeling?" George asked, looking to his son in concern.

"A little bit sick," Marty confessed. "But otherwise okay. I saw Doc earlier,"

"I heard he was in a serious condition," George frowned. "How is he doing?"

"He's stable now, thank God," Marty replied, leaning back slightly, still stroking the dog's head. "He woke up at about eight and I managed to see him then. He's glad we're looking after Einstein,"

"That's good, he's a good man," his father said. "Einstein has got to be the best behaved dog I've ever met,"

"He spends most of his time with an inventor, of course he is," Marty chuckled, taking a bite out of the sandwich. It was only when he'd swallowed the mouthful that he realized he was starving, and quickly wolfed it down. George laughed.

"Hungry, eh kiddo? Got the munchies?"

Marty rolled his eyes at his father's childish dialect. "I haven't eaten since this morning," he retorted as he opened the can of Pepsi.

George nudged his son's side lightly. "You'll feel better soon kiddo,"

Yeah, Dad, that's the same thing the hospital told me, Marty thought with a hint of sarcasm. He sipped at the Pepsi before lying back, letting his hair fall over his eyes. "I hope so,"

"You'll be right as rain in no time," George assured, squeezing Marty's shoulder gently.

Marty nodded and yawned, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "Anyway, I think I'll just go to bed, I'm absolutely exhausted," he mumbled, getting up from the sofa and tossing the empty Pepsi can in the trash. He put his plate in the sink before heading to his room.

"Alrighty then," George said, getting up as well. Einstein padded over to his bed, placed by the window, and laid down. "See you in the morning."

"'Night," Marty said as he closed his bedroom door. He got changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. He fell asleep within minutes.