Disclaimer: yeah, I own Amelia and the plot...that's it...enjoy!!
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1955—Brown Mansion Again
Emmett had towed the DeLorean back to Brown Mansion under the cover of darkness. It was now sitting under a tarp in his workshop awaiting the necessary repairs. The only problem was the 1955 Emmett Brown wasn't as familiar with time traveling luxury cars as his 1985 counterpart.
"Even if I knew how this thing worked," Emmett said, fiddling with the keypad, "I wouldn't know where to begin."
"But you invented it!" Amelia protested.
"Not yet," he reminded her, "this thing won't be completed for another thirty years. The technology employed here surpasses anything we have right now. Without the proper direction I'm afraid I'm completely useless in repairing it."
The effect of Emmett's words sunk in, weighing heavily upon them. Amelia slouched against a filing cabinet and pouted. Neither of them had expected this bump in the road, they had just assumed that Emmett would know exactly what to do like he always did. Marty paced back and forth next to the DeLorean. If he just had some sort of instruction manual or something, he thought.
"The video tape!" He exclaimed suddenly, making them all jump and Emmett bump his head.
"Huh?" Amelia asked.
"The tape he had me make at Twin Pines Mall! He could watch it. It'll tell him all about time travel!"
"Marty, you're a genius!"
Amelia grabbed the video camera out of the front seat and handed it to him. He pushed his way to a small television set Emmett had in the corner of his workshop. After a few minutes of messing around with some wires, Marty got a picture to appear on the screen. It was the 1985 Emmett standing in front of the DeLorean.
"Great Scott," Emmett whispered, leaning his face close to the screen, "I'm old!"
They watched the Emmett on the television explain all about time travel and how the DeLorean worked. 1955 Emmett sat in front of the screen with a pad of paper and a pencil, feverishly taking notes.
"Wait, what did I say?" Emmett asked Marty.
Marty rewound the tape and played the scene over again. Amelia recognized it as the moment just after she went into shock.
"No, this sucker's electrical," the Emmett on the television said, "but I needed plutonium to generate the 1.21 gigawatts of power for the flux capa—"
"1.21 GIGAWATTS!" Emmett screamed, drowning out the TV. "1.21 GIGAWATTS!" He got up and floundered around his workshop, tripping his way to the door, "GREAT SCOTT!"
Marty and Amelia exchanged surprised glances and ran after him.
"What the hell is a gigawatt?" Marty yelled.
"How could I have been so careless? Harnessing that kind of power!" Emmett moaned when they had caught up to him. He shuffled into the sitting room and sunk into an armchair, covering his face with his hands.
"Doc, relax, all we need is some plutonium," Marty laughed, shrugging out of his vest and jacket and tossing them onto an ottoman. He collapsed on the couch. Emmett gaped at him.
"I'm sure that in 1985 you can pick that up at any corner drugstore, Marty, but in 1955 plutonium is a little harder to come by!" he said.
"What'dya mean, Doc?" Marty leaned forward, his voice on edge.
"I mean that until we come across a bushel of abandoned plutonium, which incidentally is not very likely, you two are stuck here indefinitely."
"Indefinitely?" Amelia shook her head, "No, Doc, we can't stay here. We don't belong. Look at us for heaven's sake!"
"Doc, there's gotta be some way, some other way we can get the flux capacitor to start… fluxing," Marty insisted.
"The only thing that can generate 1.21 gigawatts of electricity is a lightning bolt," Emmett explained with a heavy sigh, "unfortunately you never know where or when one is going to strike."
Amelia made a soft sound of despair and bit her lip.
"Shit," Marty exclaimed under his breath. He aimed a kick at the ottoman, knocking it back a few inches. The force of his kick loosened the contents of one of his pockets. A folded piece of paper and some loose change spilled onto the floor.
Amelia scooped it up and handed it back to him.
"Here," she muttered as she sat down on the sofa.
Marty pocketed the change. He considered the note for a minute, frowning in confusion. Jennifer hadn't passed him any notes lately. Not since freshman year, actually. Marty unfolded the piece of paper. No sooner had he scanned the top of the page did his eyes widen with disbelief.
"This is it! Look, look at this!" He shoved the paper at Amelia.
"I don't believe it," Amelia said breathlessly, scanning the page, "Marty, how did you get this?"
Marty thought for a moment.
"There were a group of people protesting outside the courthouse the other day. One of them shoved it at us when I was walking Jennifer home. She wouldn't leave us alone so I took her dumb flyer and gave her a quarter. Guess I forgot I had it."
"I don't even believe it!" Amelia said again with a laugh. Marty chuckled back, relieved to see her smiling at something.
"Would anyone mind filling me in?" Emmett interjected, irritated about being left out.
"We found our lightning, Doc!" Marty handed Emmett the paper.
It was a flyer with a picture of the courthouse on it. At the top were the words "Help Us Save The Clock Tower!" The Hill Valley Historical Society was fighting to keep the clock tower intact, calling it a landmark in Hill Valley history. The flyer went on to describe, in detail, exactly what had happened the night the clock went dead. Apparently, a lightning bolt had struck it and caused the clock to stop working at precisely 10:04 pm on Saturday, November 12th.
"Marty, this is fantastic!" Emmett said, getting to his feet in his excitement. "This gives the precise location and time of the lightning strike! If there was some way we could harness that energy and channel it directly into the flux capacitor I'm sure it would give you two the jolt you needed to get back to 1985! Great Scott, look at the time!" Emmett yelled, looking at his wrist, "I've got get working, we only have a week!"
"That's great, Doc, we can stay in 1955 for a week. We can hang out, you can show us around—"
"Show you around?" Emmett interrupted, "Absolutely not, by no means will I allow you two to set one foot off of this property. Your interaction with people from this time could have serious repercussions in the future. You might endanger your own existence!"
"Told you so," Amelia muttered to Marty.
"It's no big deal, Aims, really," Marty said defensively.
"What happened?" Emmett demanded.
"Marty saved George, his father, from getting hit by a car driven by Mr. Baines, his grandfather. Now Lorraine, his mother, is in love with him and not George, his father," Amelia summed up.
"Well when you say it like that it just sounds awful," Marty grumbled. Amelia shrugged.
"Marty, this is awful!" Emmett cried. "Do you realize you might have prevented your parents from ever meeting? You might never be born! First thing in the morning, we're going to Hill Valley high school to set your parents up. And don't go screwing with the past again!"
"Ok, ok. Doc, it's gonna be fine. We'll fix them up and everything will be great."
Emmett glared for a minute and then shook it off.
"I've got to get to work on the DeLorean," he said. "You two can sleep here tonight. I'd offer you rooms but unfortunately I had to sell all of the furniture upstairs to fund my experiments. There are blankets and pillows in the hall closet." He turned to leave the room. "Oh, and my housekeeper will probably stop in sometime in the morning. Don't mind her, perfectly lovely girl, quiet as a mouse. Remember, bright and early!" Then he was gone, disappearing into his workshop.
Marty looked at Amelia and smiled.
"How 'bout that. Close call, huh?"
"Yeah," she smirked, leaning her head against the back of the sofa. She hadn't realized how tired she was, it was almost 1:30.
"How do you feel?" He searched her face. She knew what he was talking about. Amelia blushed and looked at her hands.
"It's hard, but I couldn't cry in front of him."
"No, I suppose not," he said.
"How about you? I should have asked before but I didn't think of it," she apologized.
"It's alright. I'm…alright." Amelia was surprised to see Marty's eyes water a little.
"Oh, Marty," she whispered, stroking his cheek with her palm.
"No, it's fine. I'm just gonna miss him…when we have to go back."
"Me too."
Marty composed himself and wiped the un-fallen tears out of his eyes. Amelia watched him with concern. He was trying to be so strong but Amelia could see pain written all over his face. It was killing her to see him so broken up when there was nothing she could do to silence the hurt. A hurt that she felt too, a hurt they shared.
"How about those blankets?" Marty asked when he was sure his voice wouldn't shake.
"Sure," she said. Marty squeezed her hand before he got up.
He brought back two pillows and two blankets. Marty handed a set to Amelia and then began making a bed for himself on the floor next to the couch. Amelia kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her back. She sank into the couch, it felt amazing. Amelia curled on her side and peered down at Marty on the floor. He had his hands behind his head and was staring at the ceiling.
"Comfy?" he asked, his pride had erased the sadness from his voice.
"Yes, thanks. You?"
"Just like when I was a boy scout," he said nonchalantly.
"Well, looks like we've got a week of camping. That should be long enough to earn some badges, don't you think?"
Marty chuckled and fell silent. Amelia watched him; he looked like he was struggling with himself. Marty took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"What were you thinking when Doc told us we might be stuck here forever?" he asked. The question took Amelia back. She blinked.
"I was thinking about having to lose him again," she whispered. "Once was enough. I'd rather go where it's already over than have to see it again. What were you thinking?"
Marty didn't open his eyes. He took another long deep breath as if what he was about to say took an enormous amount of effort.
"I was mad because I miss home and everything, but…well…I wouldn't have minded staying." Not if it was with you, he added in his head.
"What about Jennifer?" Amelia asked.
Marty didn't answer.
"Marty?"
"Goodnight, Aims," he whispered.
"Goodnight, Marty," she replied.
