Untitled
By Flaming Trails
A Back To The Future Story
Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, there would be no problems with the widescreen DVDS.
Prologue: Ever since I saw Back To The Future, Part II, I've been fascinated by the alternate Hill Valley Biff runs, and the Doc and Marty who have to live in it. This is a story set in that world. I reveal more backstory as the fiction progresses. Suffice to say, this is a "Vampire Doc" story (naturally), but this version is very different from our familiar version. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 1
Sunday, November 17th, 1985
'Hell' Valley
6: 47 A. M.
Marty looked at him. He seemed nervous, uneasy for some reason. "Thanks," he said, voice slightly shaky.
"Thank you!" Doc Brown replied enthusiastically. This teenager had given him all a scientist could ask for. He had inspired him, encouraged him, given him something to shoot for by his mere presence.
And he had given him the pure pleasure of having a best friend for the first time. It would be hard, waiting 30 years to talk to him about the past week. But, with any luck and his memories, he would manage.
Suddenly, Marty pulled him into a hug. Doc froze for a moment. Even though Marty had shown himself amendable to the occasional hug in their brief week together, this one was different. It almost felt - sad. Like this was the last hug he'd ever get to give Doc. Wanting to reassure him, he reciprocated, gently patting his back. "In about 30 years?"
Marty's reply sounded like he was choking back tears. "I hope so!"
"He must have travel anxiety," Doc deduced. "He's worried the experiment won't work, and that he'll be stuck here - or worse, killed. Better calm him." He pulled away to smile at and reassure him. "Don't worry!" he shouted over the wind. He went around Marty to indicate the setup. "As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88 miles per hour, the instant the lightning strikes the tower-"
He paused for a moment to think up a suitably impressive end. None came. "Everything will be fine," he finally shrugged, putting his hand in his pockets.
At that moment, there was a loud "Ke-BANG!"
Dr. Emmett Lathrop Brown's eyes snapped open. His first thought was that somehow, the lightning had struck early, and Marty was stuck in the past. Then reality set in as he glanced around, reminding him that lightning was something he didn't have to worry about ever again. With a sigh and a glare, he turned to face the door. Jackson, an attendant, was standing their, his mocking, smiling face visible through the window. "Wakie wakie, Dr. Brown," he taunted over the intercom. "It's shrink day."
"Wonderful," Doc thought. He hated the weekly visits to his psychologist. Dr. Joan Adams was the most annoying woman on the planet. She suffered from 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions' syndrome. She wanted the best for everyone, but acted like a complete jerk when trying to help them. And she didn't believe anyone who told her she was a jerk. It had been just his luck to secure her as a psychiatrist. But then, it went along with everything else that had happened to him since Biff's seizure of Hill Valley in the '60s.
Jackson, a man who strongly reminded Doc of a toad, unlocked the door with his master key and walked causally in. Behind him were his cronies, Torrance and Donald, two younger attendants who kept their distance. Torrance held a strait-jacket, Donald wheeled a cart with breakfasts and paper cups filled with drugs to give to patients. "Time to take your thorazine, Dr. Brown," Donald said nervously.
Doc looked at him coldly. "Why don't you take it, just for a change?" he rasped.
Jackson smiled in that loathsome way he had. "Behave yourself, Dr. Brown. Some interns are coming for a tour today, and we're getting a new patient in. We can't spare any personnel for you if you misbehave." He took his police baton and smacked Doc in the stomach, just because he could. Doc held back a cry of pain.
"You should have a cup sometime," he suggested to Jackson as he got the plate and cup. "It tastes horrible. You'd probably love it."
"Too bad. You're the patient. You drink it." He took the flimsy paper cup and held it to Doc's lips. Doc held his mouth closed. Jackson grinned and pinched Doc's nose, harder than necessary. Giving in, Doc opened his mouth. Jackson poured the red fluid in, and watched as Doc shut his mouth and swallowed. "Good boy." He undid the restraints holding Doc to his bed. Doc watched silently as he was given freedom of movement. "Now eat your breakfast, and we'll take you to your doctor. She's got you scheduled early today." He and his gang left, locking the door behind them. "Back in a sec, darling," he teased as they moved on.
Doc waited a moment as they moved off, then got up and stretched. He walked over to his stainless steel sink and spit out the thorazine he had cleverly hidden in his mouth. A grim smile appeared on his face as he washed it down the drain. After 2 years, Jackson still hadn't figured out all his tricks.
He splashed his face with some cold water, then pulled down his pants and did his business in the toilet. A glance out the small barred window promised a rare sunny day in Hill Valley. Doc idly wondered why the smokestacks weren't working to correct that situation.
He tied the drawstring on his pants and ate his breakfast. He ate quickly, swallowing the food with no regards for taste or enjoyment. As he finished, he caught sight of himself in the dented metal mirror above his toilet. He was 64 years old, and he looked every bit of it. His white hair hung in a tangled mess around his face. A thin, scraggly matching beard covered his chin. The skin itself was a mass of wrinkles and lines. A scar ran vertically down the left cheek, a remnant from his first days here.
But it was his eyes he noticed the most. They were still the same color he recalled from before - a liquid chocolate brown. But the warmth that had once been there, the excited spark, was completely gone from them. In their place was coldness and emptiness. It depressed the scientist more than usual.
The door unlocking again startled him from his gloom. He set aside the plate and turned to face Jackson and Torrance, back to restrain him. Jackson chuckled. "Ready to see the doctor?"
"Haven't I just?" Doc quipped humorlessly, glancing back at the mirror.
Jackson didn't get the joke. "Great. He's becoming delusional too. Come on. Get that strait-jacket on him, Torrance."
Doc gave him an icy stare. "I don't feel like seeing Dr. Adams today. I want to stay here."
Torrance backed away, apparently fearing violence from the scientist. "Don't try anything, Dr. Brown."
"Yeah, if you do, I guess we'll just have to send you back to ECT," Jackson added, his loathsome smile still in place.
ECT - 3 little letters that filled the scientist's soul with terror. In his worst nightmares he relived the agony inflicted upon him by the staff. The room - the equipment - the electricity - the pain. Especially the pain. The one moment of eternal hell he suffered as the current blasted brain cells into oblivion. He had had to go through that for most of his 2 years imprisonment here. Recently, they had stopped torturing him in an attempt to make him 'well', but Doc knew that they would start up again at the slightest report he was fighting back. ECT - electro-convulsive therapy, to the layman - was the one thing he truly feared, and all the attendants knew it.
Sighing, he allowed himself to be tied up by the nervous attendant. Torrance pulled the straps as tight as possible. "There. Now he can't get free."
"Why should I care to get free?" Doc mumbled as they took him by the arms and lead him down the hall. "The town is a recieving pit for feces anyway."
"What did he just say?" Torrance asked, giving Doc a strange look.
"He means sh*thole," Jackson grumbled. "He never talks little if he can help it."
"He really is a weirdo. Didn't he blow up his own house?"
"Yeah. A mansion, and he burned it down with one of his crazy experiments. Some people even say he torched it himself. Too bad that Biff had to take so long to get him off the streets. Hill Valley's safer with him out of the picture. You don't know what a looney like him could do."
Doc snorted. "Hill Valley was beyond hope when I was so abruptly removed from it. It's Biff who's safer with me committed. Not only was I part of George McFly's group, I know how Biff became one of the most powerful men in America. He came about those winnings illegally - both in the law of man and the law of the space-time continuum. He used time travel to get to where he is now, and I'm going to figure out how so I can fix the problem. In the meantime, I've got to survive here."
Dr. Adams was waiting for them in her private office, annoyingly perky as ever. She smiled condescendingly at Doc. "Hello, Dr. Brown," she said in her squeaky voice. "How are we today?"
Doc looked at her. "I am not a child. Please cease treating me like one."
"Grumpy as usual, I see," she said, completely ignoring his request. "Please sit down and we'll discuss your progress."
Doc managed to seat himself on the couch as Dr. Adams retrieved his file. The attendants stayed near, to quiet him in case he got violent. Not that he would. All the fire in him had burned out in the 2 years he had been here. The old Dr. Brown was dead, killed by their 'treatments'. All that remained for him in terms of feeling was ennui, and the occasional burst of quiet anger.
Dr. Adams clucked her tongue as she examined the file. "Dear me, not much progress at all from last year. You don't seem to care about getting well."
"Should I?" Doc wondered. "My state of existence depends upon the whims of one man, Biff Tannen. I know it's his personal wish that I leave here only in a casket."
"That's a very negative attitude, Dr. Brown," Dr. Adams scolded. "You should care about making yourself well. The mind is very important."
"Not in here, it isn't."
"Attitude, attitude. How can I help you if you stay so negative?" She sighed. "I guess it was a miracle you stopped insisting Biff killed George McFly and that he set up a conspiracy against you. We should get started. Are you still having those memory dreams?"
Doc nodded. "Almost every night."
"It's very unhealthy to live in the past. What sort of dreams are they?"
"Just dreams," Doc said dully. "About the myself of the past."
"Before you became ill?"
"According to your warped standards, yes."
"Warped standards? Anyone who burns down their own house and skipped 4 grades in school is a candidate for insanity in my book. How about your pyromaniac urges?"
"I don't have pyromania, so none."
"I take it your delusions of persecution are holding steady."
"Firm as always," he said in a falsely chipper voice. "Biff wanted me out of the way. He does something to neutralize all threats to his empire. For some reason, he saw me as such."
"You were part of George McFly's scheme to overthrow him. How anyone could doubt the wonderful things Biff Tannen has done for this town is beyond me. Just look at his industry! It earns so much money. . . ."
Doc sighed and leaned his head back as Dr. Adams dissolved into a hero-worshipful speech about the greatness of Biff. "Why do I put up with it?" he thought wearily. "2 years of talking to her, enduring Jackson, and having my brain cells killed is 2 years too many. I'm dead inside, why not be dead outside, too? A straight razor and 10 minutes alone - that's all I ask."
"Are you listening, Dr. Brown?"
Doc lifted his head to look at her frowning face. "Why?"
"I asked if you thought Biff was still a criminal."
"He is. He cheats. Or, at least, he cheated."
"Well, I suppose that's some progress," Dr. Adams said, making notes. "When you first came here, the very mention of Biff made you fly into a rage. You would have been insisting that he had us all brainwashed except you. Besides, how could he cheat? No man can know the future."
Doc couldn't help but chuckle. Images from a happier past flashed through his mind briefly. "Maybe he can. I wouldn't put it past him."
"Dr. Brown, why are you so cynical? You should be happy, like me."
"That's happiness. Huh, I thought it was nicer than that." "I've got no reason to be happy. I'm a bachelor at 64, I've been committed for God's sake, and I have no friends. Would you be happy, doctor?"
"I'd be happy to be alive. Always look on the bright side, that's my motto." She pulled out a stack of papers. "We've got some new Rosarches. Let's see what you make of them."
Doc emptily answered her questions as she showed him each blot of ink. It was like this every time he visited her. There would be a brief discussion, a stack of inkblots, then a lecture. For once, he wanted even the smallest bit of variety in his life.
15 minutes later, the inkblots were finally over. Dr. Adams made some final notes, then leaned forward with a dissatisfied frown. "You've given up. You don't care about anything anymore. That's not good. You should care about your health. You should let me help you become well. But you don't. What is wrong with you? Why is all my good advice to you ignored? Why don't you care? Do you want to die instead of become well? Suicides go to hell. And when you're in hell, you'll wish you'd listened to me."
Doc ignored her. He'd heard variations of this speech almost every time he'd come. It was permanently branded into his subconscious. Dr. Adams sighed, irritated. "Take him back to his room. I've got real patients to see."
Jackson yanked him to his feet. "Come along, crazy."
Doc followed passively as they led him back to his cell. Torrance loosened the straps on his jacket a bit to allow the scientist a little movement. Then they withdrew, Jackson locking the door. "Have fun," he mocked through the intercom.
Doc fell back onto his bed. He stared blankly at the ceiling. It was hard to believe he had been in here for 2 years 5 months, 3 weeks, and 4 days. The days seemed to blend together in this static environment. It seemed like yesterday that he had been brought in, struggling to get free. Those first few days had been hard on him, what with Dr. Adams trying to explain to him how lucky he was to be in her capable hands. And when that didn't work, they had decided to fry his brain. He still remembered how terrifying that first experience had been, tied down, a slimy conductant on his temples, the electrodes taped to his skull. . . .
Doc shoved the memory away. Instead he concentrated on happier times, when Biff was still powerless. The excitement of discovery, the thrill of learning -
The pain of loneliness. The hurt of rejection. The sadness of being labeled "Town Freak".
Doc shoved those away too and turned himself onto his side. He debated going to sleep. Dreams were his only respite from the pain of life. It was a quiet he could get nowhere else.
A yell from an attendant startled him briefly from his thoughts. "Hey, Marty, hurry up! We don't have all day! Those interns will be here any moment!"
Marty. . . .
Doc shut his eyes. God, he missed that kid. According to his mental calendar, they should have met at least 2 years ago. They should have had a fruitful friendship, strong enough to let Marty risk the future for Doc's life. He should have built his time machine by now. Nothing should have turned out the way it did. But Biff, by doing whatever he had, had ruined everything. By marrying Lorraine and sending Marty away to Europe, he had assured that their friendship could never be. That would eventually turn out to be a huge mistake for all involved, but right now the only person it was hurting was Doc.
He opened his eyes and decided to stop thinking. Whenever he thought, he ended up feeling the pain he had buried deep inside. He was depressed enough as is. He didn't need to make it deeper.
He lay there, staring vacantly into space, for a long time. The intern tour came and went without his noticing. Lunch was served, but he ignored it. Jackson tried to get a rise out of him, but was unsuccessful. He just lay there.
Then, at 5: 00 P. M., something grabbed his attention. It was a rather loud argument between Dr. Adams and some unidentified man. Curious in spite of himself, Doc lifted his head to listen.
"I'm telling you, Dr. Long, this is a mistake! You're putting here with the worst of the patients, a paranoid schizophrenic with tendencies towards pyromania! What if he comes out of his quiet state? She could get hurt! He needs to be in total isolation!"
"Dr. Adams, she's a new addition, and all the cells are full up. His cell is the only one big enough to fit in a second cot. You said yourself he's always drugged and restrained to prevent violent acting out. And she's catatonic herself. He won't find much to interest him in her. I don't like it any more than you do, but we've got nowhere else to put her. Later we can set up a screen or something like that."
They approached his cell. "You're making a mistake," Dr. Adams warned as they unlocked his door.
"We've got no other choice. All other options have been exhausted." He nodded to the attendants behind him. "Move his bed."
Doc looked at Dr. Long, an Asian man, confused. "What's going on?"
"The rest of the cells are full. We recently received a new inmate from another asylum. Due to all other options being unviable, you're getting a roommate."
Doc stared. A roommate? He'd have to share his cell - the one place he had to himself? It wasn't the best place, but at least he was alone there. "Figures," he thought, pissed. "Nothing can be mine anymore. Not even my hell."
The attendants dragged Doc and bed closer to the toilet. They left to retrieve a cot from the hall and set it up. Then another attendant came in, carrying a young woman.
Despite his anger, Doc found himself interested in the woman. She was attractive in her own way - not a model, but more pretty-plain. Her dirty blond hair was a tangled mess, like his, and she wore standard regulation clothes. But she had a pleasant, open face, and - to Doc's amazement - she was smiling in her sleep.
The attendant lowered her gently onto the cot. She murmured a little and turned over, her face facing the wall. Doc couldn't help but feel rejected. He looked away, returning to the empty place in his brain. The doctors and attendants, after making sure of the strength of Doc's strait-jacket, left them alone. Doc lay back down.
Suddenly, he heard a voice. "Hello."
He turned over to see the woman awake, and looking at him. Her eyes were fascinating - a perfect green, with faint flecks of blue. Doc got the feeling you could lose yourself in those eyes. "Who are you?"
Doc hadn't intended to answer, but her gentle gaze had cast a spell on him. "Emmett. Dr. Emmett Brown. What's your name?"
"Josephine. Josephine Grey. I take it you're my roommate. I didn't think they did that in mental hospitals."
"They usually don't," Doc replied, shocked at how open he felt towards her. "They had no choice in this case." He cocked his head, studying Josephine. She was pretty average, as far as he could tell. And yet, something about her attracted him. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen a woman besides Dr. Adam in 2 years. "I thought you were catatonic."
"I sleep most of the day," Josephine shrugged. "They interpet that as catatonia." She glanced up and down his body, giving him a quick appraisal. "What's wrong with you?"
"Paranoid schizophrenia, with tendencies towards pyromania," Doc reported. Then, without meaning to, he added, "The real reason was that Biff Tannen doesn't want me to damage his empire."
"Sounds similar to what happened to me. My sister is afraid of me, so she put me in here. How old are you, Dr. Brown?"
"64." It felt so strange to be talking to her so openly, especially since he had only met here 10 seconds ago. But it also felt right. Her eyes made him feel like he could tell her anything. He could trust her completely. It was like being hypnotized in a way. "Why are you here, Miss Grey?"
"They couldn't 'cure' me at my old hospital. This place supposedly has an excellent record. We'll see." She looked at his strait-jacket. "That must be very uncomfortable."
"I'm used to it." Doc shook his head. "You must have an amazing gift with people. Normally I would ignore you. I haven't talked this much to anyone in a year."
Josephine smiled. "I have that effect on others. You feel comfortable around me, don't you?" Doc nodded. "Like you could trust me with your life, if need be. You can, Dr. Brown. I befriended a lot of people in my day. You can open up to me whenever you want."
That was going far too fast for his taste. Doc felt the openness fade, replaced with his usual distrust. "That's all right, Miss Grey," he said, reverting to his cold politeness. "I'm quite used to keeping my feelings inside. I won't bother you with them." He turned away from her too-friendly gaze.
Josephine seemed a little hurt, but also seemed to understand she was rushing things. I don't mind. I'm willing to wait. Share when you're ready, Dr. Brown. I promise I'll listen and not judge. I know what being judged is like." With that, she lay down and closed her eyes.
She stayed that way until dinner. Leering openly, Jackson offered her some food. Josephine surprised them all by politely refusing everything but a glass of water. Doc, briefly free to eat, looked at her oddly. "I can't eat the food. It'll make me sick," she said, answering his unspoken question.
She watched as Jackson and his cronies restrained Doc for the night. Jackson grinned at Josephine when he was through. "You'll be safe now, honey. Just don't let him up." He reached over and touched her face. "You're pretty, girl. I think I might want to get to know you better."
Josephine just gave him a cold stare. Jackson snorted and locked the door.
Josephine watched them as they traveled down the hall. Her eyes, due to some trick of the light, appeared to glow a bright green. "If he tries to 'get to know me better', he's going to get a big surprise," she muttered, her pleasant demeanor momentarily gone. Then it was back as she looked at Doc. "Do you want me to loosen those?"
"That's okay, Miss Grey," Doc said, keeping himself aloof. "I'm used to sleeping like this."
"Still, it can't be comfortable."
"I manage."
She shrugged, then looked out the small window at the now-smoky sky. "I remember when you could see the stars out there," she sighed. "Bright lamps shining in the dark velvet of the night. Night is a magical time for me. Everything is quiet at night. You feel relaxed, yet powerful. Strong. You feel like the world is yours, that you can do anything and the inky blackness will protect you. It's beautiful. I'm really myself at night."
She smiled at him. It was a different smile than before. Her previous smile had been innocent and sweet. There was something seductive, something predatory, in this one. Doc unconsciously drew back.
The smile changed back to the gentle one. "You don't want to hear me blabber on, I'm sure. Go to sleep. I'll just watch the night through the window." She went back to looking at the sky.
Doc turned his head away from Josephine. What had started out as a typical day for him had become decidedly atypical. It wasn't everyday you got a roommate in the psycho ward. Especially one that didn't eat, loved the night, and could make you open up to her with just a glance.
Doc realized something as he closed his eyes. His new roommate scared him. A lot.
Okay, I'm breaking with my own protocol here to ask a favor. When you review, please, SUGGEST A TITLE!
