Best Friends Forever, And Then Some
A Back To The Future Story
By Flaming Trails
Disclaimer: I don't own Back To The Future. If I did, there would be a special government office dedicated just to the fans. (I'm losing my touch)
Prologue: Just another one of those "How Doc met Marty" stories. Set in "Wimp 85" - before Marty fixed his past.
Chapter 1
Friday, October 1st, 1982
Hill Valley, California
12: 01 P. M.
"Hey, McFly!"
14-year-old Marty McFly looked up from his lunch. Approaching him was Hill Valley's High brand new "Eddie Haskel", Douglas J. Needles. He and Marty were both freshmen, trying to accustom themselves to the rules of high school. They had run into each other a few times over the years, but normally they ignored one another.
Evidently, today wasn't normal. Needles slid into the seat next to Marty. "How's it hanging, McFly?" he asked, showing off his horrible teeth.
"Okay, I guess," Marty shrugged. Needles had a tendency to make him uncomfortable. "What's up with you?"
"Nothin', really. Hey, McFly, I hear you're a great car-surfer." That was the local nickname for a dangerous form of skateboarding where you hitched a ride from passing cars.
"It's easier than having to push yourself all the way. What about it?"
"Well, I was thinking - how about you and me have a contest sometime? See who can go the furthest on one tow. Whaddya say? You up for it?"
Marty looked skeptical. "I dunno. I'm used to switching cars - it could be really dangerous to stick with just one. And what if the police or our parents see us? Mom and Dad have no idea I car-surf, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"We won't get caught. And we'll tow with guys we know," Needles replied smoothly. "You worry too much, McFly."
Marty rolled his eyes. "And you get in trouble too much. No, thanks."
"Come on, McFly. It'll be fun. Unless you're - chicken."
Marty tensed up. He couldn't help himself. He detested being called 'chicken'. The word immediately reminded him of his father, George, a sniveling coward. That was one person he didn't want to be like, not in a million years.
He shot a glare in Needles's direction. The pre-teen was smiling expectantly, having learned from experience what effect the word 'chicken' had on Marty. "I'll do it," he said evenly. "But you'd better get somebody whose name I know to drive the car I'll surf."
Needles's grin got bigger. "Sure thing, McFly. I know just the guy. I'll see you outside at 2: 15, okay?"
"You got it." Needles got up and returned to his table. "Remember, McFly, 2: 15!"
One of Marty's friends at his table, Rick Nabers, looked at him. "Marty, are you really gonna do it?"
"He called me 'chicken'. Of course I'll do it. I won't be that hard. I'm an expert at it." He grinned at Rick. "Hell, I taught you how to do it, so I gotta be good."
"Yeah, I know, but it's Needles. He likes to win, and he fixes any contest he enters. He might have something planned for you, Marty."
"How? Seniors think freshmen are scum. He'll have a hard time trying to get them to go along with his schemes." Marty got up as the bell rang. "Anyways, you've gotta take risks in life. Otherwise, you'll end up just like my dad."
Rick nodded. He had heard Marty gripe about his family multiple times since they had become friends in middle school. They were certainly a family of losers. The father was a coward, the mother an alcoholic, the brother a total geek and the sister highly unattractive. "Still the biggest wimp on the block?" he sympathized.
"You ain't kidding. He just bought a load of Girl Scout cookies from some neighbor down the block. Dad hates the guy, but he still couldn't say no to him." Marty snorted. "So it's cookie dinners for the rest of the month, probably."
"Hey, that doesn't sound too raw a deal."
Marty thought about it a minute and shrugged. "I guess it doesn't, but I wish sometimes my mom would cook more. It gets old, eating whatever Dad buys. Or what Dave gets for free from his pals at Burger King. I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up working there."
Rick shrugged too. "I'll see you after school, Marty. You'd better not do anything stupid. We've got practice tomorrow." Rick was referring to the new band he, Marty, and 2 other friends had formed. "And we gotta think up a name, too."
"I'll be fine, Rick. See ya later." Marty headed for Social Studies class. As he entered, he saw the teacher setting up a slide projector. He groaned. "Not another slide show!"
"Yes, another slide show, Mr. McFly," the teacher, a young man named Mr. Larmont, said. "It's good to see these shows. It lets you visually understand the other decades."
Marty just sighed and slid into his seat. He secretly readied his Walkman, hidden in a pocket of his backpack. Maybe, if things got too boring, he could listen to some tunes.
Mr. Larmont took attendance and started the slide show. "Here we're looking at some cave art. Notice the natural pigmentation of the stone that adds to the crude color of the figures. When cave people first started to create art. . . ."
Marty settled back in the hard plastic chair and zoned out. Involuntarily his mind went back to the scene of his dad's latest wimp-out. What made it worse is that right before it had happened, Marty had asked his dad to say no. "'What have you got to lose, Dad?'
'Marty, you have to understand, I'm not a fighter. It's easier to just say yes. This way you don't have to deal with angry people or anything like that.'
'Dad, it's not that hard! It's two letters. N-O. Just try it, Dad.'
'I don't know, Marty. . . .'"
That's when the neighbor had knocked, and George had stayed true to form. "Why is he like that?" Marty wondered. "You think a guy would be able to say no to someone he wishes would die. And every time I tell him about the stuff I want to do, he tries to talk me out of it. Just once, I'd like some encouragement from somebody other than the gang. Just once."
Marty was still moping when he noticed he was alone in the room and the lights were back on. The bell must have rung while he was out of it. He gathered up his stuff and raced to his next class. "Someday, I'm gonna have to get a watch with an alarm."
After earning his 4th unexcused tardy (it had been pure luck none of them had come from the same teacher), Marty suffered through his science class. He thought science was okay, but he wasn't all that interested in hearing more about it. And it didn't help that he had a deathly boring teacher. Most everybody in science was in a coma by the first 2 minutes, and Marty was no exception.
Finally, at 2: 10, it was over. Marty woke from his trance and headed to his locker. Both Rick and Needles were waiting for him there, along with a senior. Marty recognized him as Fred Jacobson, Needles's girlfriend's brother. "Hey."
"Hey, McFly. You know Laurie's bro." Fred gave him a nod. "You said to get somebody you know for your car. Here he is. A friend of his has got me. We'll start from the parking lot and go from there. Whatcha think?"
"Sounds okay to me." Marty opened his locker, dumped his unnecessary books in and pulled out his Valterra skateboard. It had been a birthday gift from Dave and he was very happy to have it.
"Why don't you come along too, Nabers?" Needles asked. "Jacobson can scrounge up another guy in no time."
"No thanks. I gotta get home to practice-" he gave an exaggerated sigh and shudder "-thepiano. Mom will kill me if I don't grow up to be a great concert pianist, I'm sure."
"Tough break. I guess it's just you and me, McFly. I'll meet you in the parking lot in 5." He and Fred sauntered off, chatting quietly about something.
"Watch yourself, Marty," Rick warned. "Needles wants some respect from the older kids fast. With hair and teeth like that, he won't get it easy."
"I can watch my own back, Rick," Marty assured him. "See ya tomorrow. And good luck with that piano lesson." He left Rick mock-gagging about it.
Needles was already hanging onto his car when Marty arrived. "Hang on tight, McFly! This could be a wild ride!" he yelled over the drivers revving their engines.
"In Hill Valley? You wish!" Marty yelled back, dropping his skateboard. He hopped on and coasted up to Fred's dirty blue pickup, grabbing hold of the back. There was a final moment of engine revving, then both cars took off.
As they roamed the streets of Hill Valley, Marty felt his heart start to beat faster. He was used to car-surfing, but it seemed like Fred was trying to shake him off at every turn. It was much easier to do this when the person from who you bummed a ride didn't know you were there. Twice he contemplated letting go and forfeiting - he was a practical guy, after all, and being seen by so many people wasn't good. But every time he had considered it, he had caught sight of Needles smiling face. No. He was going to stick with it and prove he wasn't like his dad.
They turned a corner and left the Town Square, where they had been cruising for a moment. Now they were heading down flat stretch of road, toward the Burger King and an old gray garage.
Every kid in Hill Valley knew about that garage. According to most of the adults they knew, it housed a dangerous lunatic, a man by the name of Dr. Emmett Brown. The stories about him ran rampant - about how he had burnt his house down, how he lived alone like a hermit, how he seemed to enjoy exploding things. It was a pastime of middle-schoolers to drive him nuts with pranks. Marty had never done so - he had been too busy hanging out with his pals at the mall and practicing guitar - but he knew about Dr. Brown's reputation. Even going by his odd-looking 'home' gave him a bit of a shudder.
Fred abruptly speeded up, going over a slight bump very fast. It was to jolt the back of the truck open. Marty held on for dear life as the flap fell open.
Fred laughed and deliberately fishtailed. Marty was flung off, heading right toward the fence that surrounded Dr. Brown's property. As he flew through the air, he knew Rick had been right. Needles had been determined to win this, any way possible. Then his head hit the garbage cans lining the fence, and he knew no more.
Friday, October 1st
2: 31 P. M.
Dr. Emmett L. Brown, for his part, was outside, playing a game of fetch with his dog Einstein. They didn't have much room to play in - Doc's backyard was a small square patch 6 feet by 6 feet, with a tiny sapling gracing one corner. But it was enough to let owner throw a stick and dog to retrieve it.
As Doc prepared to throw the stick again for his eager dog to catch, he suddenly heard a terrific crash come from the front of his house. He sighed and gave the stick a weak toss. No doubt some hot-rodder had decided to destroy his garbage cans, just for kicks. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?
He walked through his little garage/house/lab to reach the front, Einstein padding faithfully at his heels. Sure enough, once he got out there, he saw 2 trucks peeling away, both drivers laughing. He considered taking down their license plate numbers, but decided against it. Through the years, he had learned that if something of his got destroyed, it was easier to just fix it himself. No one ever paid for the damage. He gripped the fence idly and surveyed the damage through it. 2 cans had been knocked over, and-
And there was a pair of legs underneath them.
Startled and concerned, Doc opened the gate and rushed outside. He was hidden beneath the cans and garbage, but there was definitely someone under there. He stood up the cans and brushed away the garbage to find a teen boy, age around 14 or so. He was unconscious, with a angry red welt forming on the back of his head.
Doc knelt down over him. How had a kid become a projectile missile towards his trash cans? He decided to worry about that later and get the kid inside. After a careful check for broken bones and/or spine damage, he gently lifted the unconscious boy. He gave a slight moan, but didn't stir.
Einstein returned to Doc's side, proudly carrying a skateboard that had been rolling away from the scene. Doc smiled. "Good boy. Hopefully this kid will be grateful you retrieved that. Bring it inside, boy." He carried the unknown boy in, Einstein following.
Friday, October 1st
4: 26 P. M.
Marty came awake with a small jolt. The back of his head hurt like crazy. He moaned and turned over, lifting the lump off the pillow and a lukewarm compress. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was Fred Jacobson throwing him off his truck.
He opened his eyes a bit. The room he was in had dimmed lights and half-closed shades. In front of one of the shades was a figure. Marty thought it looked a little familiar. "Dad? Dad, is that you?"
The figure looked at him. Now that things were coming into clearer focus, he realized the figure was too tall to be George. "Sorry kid, but no," a friendly voice said.
As the figure approached, Marty tried to sit up. The figure pushed him back down. "No, don't sit up yet. You've been asleep for almost 2 hours, and I'm sure you've got a headache."
Marty felt a fresh cold compress being pressed to the back of his head. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. "What's the deal with the lights?"
"I didn't want to overstimulate your cornea when you achieved consciousness," the figure said. "I felt an overexposure to light rays upon first awakening would serve to aggravate your condition."
Marty blinked. What the. . . . It sounded like English. . . .
The man seemed to notice Marty's confusion. "I felt seeing bright light the minute you woke up would worsen any painful symptoms," he clarified. "After all, it hurts when your eyes have to abruptly readjust."
"Oh." Marty wondered who his strange benefactor was. He was certainly one of a kind, Marty could tell. "Where were we when Fred threw me off? We had just passed the Burger King. . .so that means. . . .
DR. BROWN'S HOUSE! I'M IN DR. BROWN'S HOUSE!"
His hypothesis was confirmed when the man switched on a light. It was Dr. Brown, all right, with disheveled hair and wacky clothes all in place. Marty felt a thrill of terror go through him. No kid had ever been inside Dr. Brown's house before. The most any of them saw was the outside. What was in this place? And what horrid fate awaited him?
Doc sighed as he saw the boy's face melt into a mask of terror. Yup - he recognized him all right. He knew exactly what the kid was thinking: that he was going to hurt him, or try some strange experiment on him just for fun. There went any chance of gratitude. "Yes, it's me. I still don't recommend getting out of bed just yet. You'll only hurt yourself."
Marty barely heard. "You're - you're-"
"Dr. Brown," Doc nodded sadly. "Local crazy inventor. I know all the rumors, so you don't have to repeat anything. What's your name, kid?"
"McFly. Marty McFly," Marty said, moving away from him.
"And how did you end up in my trash cans, Marty?"
"Some senior flung me off his truck. I'll pay for the damage. Honestly, I will."
Doc blinked. Well, that was new. "That's very kind of you, Marty, but I think the person who should pay is the one who threw you into the cans. What's his name?"
"Fred Jacobson," Marty said immediately, wanting to keep Dr. Brown's mind off him. He didn't want him to get mad. The guy was dangerous, after all.
"Fred Jacobson. . . . Yes, that kid who toilet-papered my house last Halloween. I doubt I'll get a payment from him." Doc sighed and got up. "Would you like anything before I call your parents? I'm sure they're worried about you."
Marty was getting confused. All the reports he'd heard of Dr. Brown had described him as a dangerous, raving lunatic. This guy seemed pretty sensible. Still, Marty kept on his guard. "I'm not really that hungry, Dr. Brown."
"Sure?" A nod. "Okay, what's your phone number?"
"555-3433." Doc walked over to the telephone on the table and dialed. Marty took the opportunity to lift himself up a little and look around. He was in a small area with a bed, wardrobe, a small table, and some other household amenities. Beyond it was masses of junk of and strange-looking things. Marty couldn't help but be interested in what they were. He was probably the first teen to see all this stuff. What was it all for?
Doc returned, trailing the phone. "No one's home."
Marty looked confused for a moment, then remembered. "Yeah, there was some sort of thing at the college, an open house or some shit like that. Damn, I was supposed to go to that with them. Dad won't care, but Mom most likely will give me some lecture."
"I think being unconscious is a pretty good excuse," Doc said, setting down the phone and walking over to him. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Some aspirin would be nice, though."
"I'll get you some." He disappeared into a room out of sight, then returned with 2 "Tylenol" and a glass of water. "I should have thought of having some handy. I hit my head pretty often, I'm sad to say."
Marty swallowed the pills and water in one gulp. He could never stand the pills' plastic taste. He glanced around the room again. "This is where you live, huh?" He knew it sounded dumb, but it was all he could think of to say.
"When I'm not working on inventions. This area is the main living area. The rest is my lab, and behind the door on the far side leads to the garage."
"This place is pretty small to live in."
"I can live with small. I'm barely ever in this area except to sleep or read."
"Didn't you used to have a mansion, though?"
"Yes, but that burned down long ago, as I'm sure you're aware. And even then, I lived mostly in here."
"Why would anybody like a garage over a mansion?" Marty asked, thinking those rumors could be justified.
"It serves my purposes. There's no wasted space. The property and other taxes are much less. And, frankly, my mansion made me a little uncomfortable. There was all that empty space, and no one to share it with. It wasn't so bad when I was a child, then I had my family, but when I grew up, it depressed me."
Marty realized he could understand how Dr. Brown felt. If he'd had to live in a big house all alone, it would probably creep him out to. His interest grew. "How did it burn down?" he blurted, before realizing that was none of his business.
Doc, too, was getting intrigued. He didn't often meet people who showed an interest him in him. "It's all right. I'm afraid I carelessly did an experiment in the house and left a Bunsen burner running. I woke up in the middle of the night to a rapidly spreading fire. I grabbed some of my most treasured belongings, got out, and called a fire squad. Unfortunately, the blaze became too fierce for them to combat."
"Oh. It's just 'cause some of the rumors-" Marty paused, not wanting to anger him.
"Say I burnt it down myself, I know," Doc sighed heavily. "Rest assured I would have never done that. Sold the house, probably. But never burn it to the ground." He checked the knot on the back of Marty's head. "The swelling seems to have gone down. Has the aspirin helped any?"
"Yeah, my head's not pounding anymore." Marty cocked his head to study Dr. Brown. His face, although 'old', seemed friendly. His eyes were especially so, an intense liquid chocolate filled with energy. Now that he examined him further, his messy head and wild clothes just seemed causal, not frightening. Like he had more important things on his mind than physical appearance. To his surprise, he felt himself warming toward the guy. "So - uh - whatcha do for a living?"
"I offer 24 hour scientific services to those who require my assistance." Marty gave him that 'speak English, damn you' look. "All right, what I really do is run a mobile repair shop. But I'm open to do things more scientifically related."
"A mobile repair shop?" Marty repeated, puzzled.
"Out of my van," Doc clarified. "It's easier and more convenient than setting up a 'formal' shop here. I use this lab for my personal studies."
Suddenly, Einstein rolled in on the skateboard, barking happily. "Einstein! Get off that!" Doc said, running over.
Marty laughed. "Hey, I didn't know you had any pets! What kind of dog is he?"
"A mutt," Doc said, shooing Einstein off the skateboard. "Half bearded collie, half sheepdog. 1 ½ years old. He's the latest in a series."
"Can I pet him?"
Doc felt the beginning of a smile on his lips. This kid was genuinely interested in him! It felt good to find someone who was able to overcome their prejudices even a little. Marty seemed like a benevolent kid, practical yet willing to take risks. Somebody Doc would like to get to know better. "I don't see why not. Let him get a sniff of you first." He led his dog up to the prone teen. "Einy, this is Marty."
The dog sniffed Marty's hand, then let the teen pat him. "He's a nice dog, Dr. Brown."
"I like to think so." Doc ruffled Einstein's fur, then looked back up at Marty. "If you're feeling well enough, I'll take you home now."
Marty was about to nod 'sure' when he spotted something, tucked away near a cot. Slowly getting up, he went to investigate. "Hey, this is heavy-duty. What is it?"
"My breakfast maker," Doc explained, only too glad to show off his work. "At the appointed hour, it activates the radio and the TV, makes toast and coffee, and feeds Einstein. It's a very useful device."
"Cool. We could use one of those at my place." He marveled at Doc's gigantic collection of clocks. "What's with all the clocks?"
"I've always been fascinated by the passage of time," Doc said. "It's a hobby of mine to collect unusual clocks and watches." He held out his wrists to show Marty a pair of wristwatches. "I take great pride in that they are all practically in sync. It would be impossible to get them completely in sync, but I think I've got it close enough to perfection."
As if to confirm his statement, all the clocks went off at precisely the same time. Doc smiled at the cacophony of sounds. It was music to his ears. "Ah! All precisely on schedule!"
Marty held his head. How Doc Brown could smile at that sort of thing was beyond him. The sounds themselves were cool - an eclectic mix of cuckoos, bongs, chimes, and other more alien noises - but they were a little loud for his tastes. Maybe Dr. Brown was a little insane, after all. He decided to take the scientist up on his offer. "It's a nice collection, but could I go home before I go deaf?"
Dr. Brown sighed. Maybe he had been a little quick to judgement about Marty not being afraid of him. Or maybe he was telling the truth and the sound was hurting his ears. He wasn't used to it like he was, after all. "Of course." He led the teen into the garage. Two vehicles sat there - a freshly bought DeLorean and an old white step-van. Lettered on the side was:
DR. E. BROWN ENTERPRISES
24-hour Scientific Services
Doc hopped into the driver's side of the van. Marty glanced at the DeLorean as he got in the passenger's side. "Don't you want to take the DeLorean? That's a really cool car."
Doc also looked at the DeLorean. A strange smile creased his face. "Actually, that's an experimental car, Marty. See those bare spots? I'm scraping the paint off. I need to get down to the stainless steel."
Marty shrugged and settled himself into the seat, clutching his retrieved backpack and skateboard. Doc started up the van, then realized he had no idea where Marty lived. Marty sensed his question before he asked it. "9301 Jon Stewart Drive, Lyon Estates," he answered as Doc opened his mouth to ask.
Doc smiled sheepishly. "You a mind reader, kid?"
"Nah. You had to ask me sometime," Marty gently needled. For some reason, it was easy to drop his guard around Dr. Brown. It felt natural, right. Either Dr. Brown had an unknown gift with people or something was just clicking between them.
Doc was thinking along similar lines as they drove along. "It's strange, huh?" he said out loud to himself unknowingly.
"Huh?" Marty said, confused. "Are you talking to me, Dr. Brown?"
"What? Oh, no, sorry. I was thinking aloud." He looked at Marty. Marty looked back. For a moment, each considered telling the other how weirdly easy it was to talk to him. Then both decided against it. "He's the town lunatic, McFly!" "He's one of those meddlesome teenagers."
"I can't be his friend. Why would I even want to?"
They pulled up to the McFly house at the same time as the McFlys themselves. Lorraine got out of the car first, looking suspiciously at the van. "We don't want anything!" she yelled to Doc. "Go away!"
"Not even me?" Marty joked, opening his door.
Lorraine nearly had a heart attack. "MARTY! Honey, are you all right?! Get away from him, you nut!" She yanked Marty out of the van.
"What the hell are you doing now? Kidnaping kids for your weird experiments?" Dave demanded.
"Now, Dave," George said weakly. His child ignored him.
"Mom, Dr. Brown helped me out," Marty protested, trying to squirm away from her frantic checking.
"How on earth could a looney like him help you?" Lorraine snapped.
"Your son was rendered unconscious in a skateboarding accident and ended up in my trash," Doc attempted to explain. Marty was very grateful no one knew what sort of accident it had been. "I cared for him until he regained consciousness."
"What's your definition of 'care'?" Lorraine demanded, holding Marty protectively. "To feed him strange potions when he can't fight back? Get out of my sight. Marty, never go near his house again."
"I wrecked his trash cans. I gotta pay for them."
"No you don't. He can pay for them himself!" She pulled Marty toward the house. Marty looked back at the van. He had never seen a more depressed on face than the one he saw on Dr. Brown. The scientist looked at him, shrugged, then drove off, his shoulders slumped in sadness.
Marty made a decision. It wasn't right for something to happen to a guy and for no one to help him out. He'd go back to Dr. Brown's house and pay for those garbage cans.