True Hero
A Back to the Future: Trilogy Story
By Flaming Trails
Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, you would have to worship me.
Prologue: Another story involving the trilogy. Doc and family moved back in 1986 after finding a house in 1985.
Friday, October 24th, 1986
Hill Valley, California
3: 02 P. M.
On Zemeckis Road, the air seemed to shiver. The shiver moved toward the only occupied house on the street. Inside, Clara Clayton Brown smiled. "Looks like your father's home," she told her two children, Jules and Verne.
Jules looked at the clock. "He was only gone an hour, Mama."
"For us. For him, it's probably been a lot longer," Clara gently reminded him. "Go greet him when he gets in."
"Won't you come with us?"
"I have to clean up this mess you caused with the vacuum cleaner first. Run along."
They ran out to the garage. Clara continued the thankless task of re-vacuuming the dirt that the boys had spilled dissecting the bag. More like their father every day, she thought with a smile and a shake of the head.
Doc appeared in front of her, carrying two giggling little boys. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he set them down. "Hi, sweetheart," he said, kissing her.
"Welcome back. How was your trip?"
"Wonderful. Not only is the new car updated with a full fusion engine and time machine components, I also came back with a terrific idea for a party."
"A party?" Verne repeated, eyes wide with excitement.
"Yes, a Halloween party. I got if off a TV show I saw in the future. A 'come as your hero' party."
"What?"
"For Halloween, you dress up as the person you most admire," Doc clarified. "I thought it was a nice idea. And if we host a party with that theme, we'll get to know the neighborhood better. Maybe even make some new friends."
Clara smiled -- then frowned. Something about the way he had said that last bit bothered her. "Things with Marty still not going so well?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair.
Doc's smile disappeared. "Everything we do together feels -- strained," he confessed. "I knew it would take time for both of us to adjust to me having a family, but between all that's happened, it feels like it's taking longer than it should. Maybe this is too big a change for our friendship to get over. Not that I'm trying to make you out to be the bad guy--" he added hastily.
"I know honey, I know. But I also know how much you love Marty."
Doc shivered. "I wish you hadn't found that out the way you did," he muttered.
"Neither do I," Clara agreed, recalling her days of terror with a psychotic version of Doc. "But I did find out, and I know you two will get over this. Things have to get better eventually."
"I certainly hope so." Doc brightened again. "But what about my party idea?"
"I think it's great!" Verne piped up.
Clara laughed. "Took the words right out of my mouth. It'll be nice to have some company over. And the kids will enjoy it."
"Can we invite all our friends?" Verne asked, lightly tugging Doc's coat.
"All that live in this time period, anyway," Doc smiled down at him. "That's the whole point. And we'll have games and treats for all of you."
"Like an apple bob?" Jules inquired.
"Sure! Just remember, you have to tell your friends to dress up as their heroes."
"What are you two going to dress up as?" Clara asked, crouching down a bit.
"A cowboy," Verne said immediately. "Cowboys are really really cool."
"I want to be a steam train," Jules said after a moment.
"A train? Why?"
"Because that's how you and Papa met. He saved you from falling off a train."
Clara grinned up at Doc. "He's right there, honey."
Doc patted Jules on the head. "You might want to be a engineer instead, Jules."
"No, I can be a train. I have the drawings all worked out." He held up a few sheets of paper. "See? Just like you do, Papa."
"These are definitely your kids," Clara laughed. "You have any drawings for me, Vernie?"
"I can make some."
"Nah, that won't be necessary." Clara looked up at Doc. "Who are you going to be, honey? I know one of the great scientists, of course."
"Hmmm. That's a tough choice. Should I be Issac Newton, the great physicist? Ben Franklin, discoverer of basic electrical principles? Albert Einstein, creator of the Theory of Relativity?"
Clara knew that, unless she quickly distracted him, Doc would spend all night naming his favorite scientists. She touched his arm. "You still have a few days to think about it. Come on, we have to make up the invitations."
Friday, October 24th
7: 37 P. M.
Doc sat in his garage/lab, still thinking hard about possibilities for his Halloween costume. He simply couldn't decide on which scientist he'd like to be. Albert Einstein was the obvious choice, of course, but Doc wanted to be more original than that. Besides, mustaches, real or fake, made him sneeze.
Sighing, his eyes fell on a photo album tucked semi-neatly into his bookcase. Maybe looking at some old photos will help inspire me, he thought, easing it off the shelf and flipping it open.
The first picture he encountered was one of himself and Marty, hugging in front of the amplifier. Doc looked at it, depression overtaking his mood. As wonderful as having a loving wife and family was, Doc sometimes missed the old days. He felt like he was slowly losing his best friend, and that there was nothing he could do. Even through all the experiences they had had together – or maybe because of them – they were drifting apart.
I suppose some friendships just die, Doc thought sadly, flipping through the pages. Especially if rocked by all the changes we've gone through.
Thinking that didn't make it hurt any less. Marty had been a very important part of his life ever since 1982. Before he'd met Clara, Marty had really been his only family. They had shared so much together – their dreams, their secrets, their music, their discoveries. Doc had even given his children Marty aliases for their middle names.
Doc looked over the other pictures of him and the teen, smiling slightly. The time machine had caused the greatest changes to their lives. Marty certainly matured a lot during that period of time. He risked his life to save me from certain death in the Old West. Heck, with the letter, he risked the whole damned space-time continuum. He put everything he valued on the line, just to make sure I would be safe.
He's really a hero.
Doc's smile grew larger and less sad. Their friendship might not be the same, but he could show Marty he still cared. Doc began listing what he would need.
Monday, October 27th, 1986
Hill Valley
2: 47 P. M.
Being the only person at home meant that you had to perform certain duties. And one of those duties was fetching the mail. So, when the mailman left some letters at 9303 Jon Stewart Drive, Marty McFly was there to take them in.
He flipped through them as he walked to the breakfast bar. There was a water bill, a flyer from J. C. Penny, and – a letter from Doc. Marty dropped the bill and the flyer on the counter and tore open the letter. Inside was a invitation on crisp white paper:
You are cordially invited to a Halloween party at the Brown residence. The theme of the party is "come as your hero." The party begins promptly at 6: 00 P. M. Food, drinks, and games for the children will be on hand. We hope to see you.
Dr. Emmett L. Brown – ELB
Clara Brown – CCB
RSVP – 555-5122
Marty examined the invitation a moment, then put it with the rest of the mail. He had been hoping that it was a letter specifically for him. Lately, things had become rather tense between the two. Even though he knew Doc cared for him – his behavior after both coming home to 1986 and the incident with the psycho-Doc proved that – Doc wasn't showing it like he used to. His family took up so much more of his time now. Marty liked the other Browns, but he yearned for the old days. Days that were impossible to recapture, even with a time machine. "Some friendships just die, and ours must be one of them," he muttered sadly.
He looked at the invitation again. Might as well distract myself by trying to think up a costume, he decided. He hadn't planned on dressing up, but now that he had a reason to – why not? Well, the invite says, come as your hero, Marty thought, frowning. Who's my hero?
Immediately, a number of his favorite rock stars came to mind. But Marty found himself dismissing them. Much as he liked Tom Petty and Huey Lewis, he didn't consider them his heroes. The same criteria also ruled out his father, even though the thought of going as George McFly made him laugh.
He thought about his Clint Eastwood suit, hidden in the back of his closet. Should he go as Clint? Nah. Clint Eastwood ain't my hero either. Jesus, this is tough. . . .
Despite himself, Marty began to think about Doc. Doc had always been a terrific friend to him. He had risked his life a couple of times to get Marty's @$$ out of hot water. Marty shivered as he remembered Doc trying to hold off the fire of the Libyans to protect him. Or yelling at Marty to run and catch the train while being held hostage by Buford Tannen.
In fact, Marty would go as far as to call him a hero.
A grin came to the teen's face. Things may have changed drastically for the Doc and him, but maybe for one night they could reconnect. He searched for a pen and paper to write out his costume.
Friday, Halloween, 1986
Hill Valley
5: 44 P. M.
Clara adjusted Jules's smokestack hat. "There. Now you look perfect."
Jules grinned, then frowned as he looked at Verne. His brother had an evil smile on his face. "Don't jump on me," he said, taking refuge behind Clara.
"Why not? Mama and Papa jumped on trains," Verne said, pursuing his brother.
"Be nice to each other," Clara lectured them. Her own costume was that of famous suffragist Susan B. Anthony. "Which means no jumping on your brother, Verne."
"Okay, we'll be good," Verne promised reluctantly.
A shadow appeared on the stairs. Verne saw it first and pointed it out to everyone else. As the figure descended, Clara murmured, "Oh, my."
The figure leaned down to adjust his Nike Bruins, then struck a pose on the landing. Looking him up and down, you could see red and blue were the continuing themes – red swooshes on the shoes, red down vest, red t-shirt contrasting with tight blue jeans and a two-tone blue jacket. Smiling, he lifted his mirrored sunglasses. "Like it?"
Clara clapped her hands. "Emmett, it's wonderful. Quite the resemblance!"
Doc turned around to let them get a good look. "I'm glad. I took forever to find the vest in my size, and I actually had to go to the future for the dye." He ran his fingers through his temporarily-brown hair. "I certainly hope this stuff is supposed to wash out. . . ."
"Don't worry, honey. Have you seen yourself yet?"
Doc glanced in the mirror nearby. "Great Scott," he laughed. "I can't help but laugh every time I look." He scratched an itch, then frowned. "Maybe I should go get those colored contact lenses. . . ."
"You showed me those," Clara reminded him. "They made your eyes look all muddy. Besides, you have the sunglasses. It's good enough." Automatically she adjusted the collar of his jacket. "I wonder what Marty'll think?"
"Ten to one says he says 'Heavy,'" Verne grinned.
"It's neat, Papa," Jules agreed. "He'll like it."
"I hope so. Of course, he might be too shocked that I'm not a scientist to say anything." He chuckled. "I wonder. . . . If he's a rock star, should I get his autograph, then mail it back to him?"
"Emmett, that's mean," Clara scolded, trying to hide her grin.
"Come on. I know things haven't been the same betwixt us lately, but I think he'll get a laugh out of that. I just wonder who he is."
Friday, Halloween
5: 49 P. M.
"Come on, Marty, we're gonna be late!"
"Just a sec! This damn wig refuses to stay in place!"
Linda, dressed as Elvira, sighed. "Why don't we all just go and leave him?" she whined. "He's got his own car."
"We're waiting because it's polite," George said firmly. He was dressed up as Luke Skywalker, complete with light saber. "And because I want to see this costume of his in its entirety."
Lorraine nodded her agreement as Billie Jean King. "He's worked hard on it. We may as well give him an audience."
Before Linda could offer another argument, Marty appeared on the scene. "Well?"
The group couldn't help but stare. Even though Marty still wore Nikes, they were solid orange, far different from his usual Bruins. The cargo pants had too many pockets to count, and all appeared stuffed. A white T-shirt was barely visible under the Hawaiian shirt he wore. Two watches on each wrist and a fluffy white wig completed the look.
George laughed. "That's really good, Marty! I could see Dr. Brown looking like that as a teenager."
"Is that one of his shirts?" Dave asked, pointing.
"Yeah, I had Jules and Verne grab it for me. One of Doc's favorites. I took it in with some safety pins, but it's still way too big." He looked questioningly at his brother. "How come you're not dressed up?"
"I am! I'm a CEO," Dave said, holding up his Fortune 500 book.
"But that's what you wear to work every day. You haven't been promoted?"
"Not yet, but soon. Think big."
"Does Doc know you're going as him?" Lorraine inquired.
"Nope. I wanted it to be a surprise. We haven't been getting along so well, so I thought I'd try and--" Marty shrugged, not really knowing what he wanted to say. "You know."
"Great. Let's get this show on the road," Linda griped.
Friday, Halloween
6: 14 P. M.
The party was just beginning to hit a groove when the McFlys pulled up to the Brown's house. Clara spotted their cars from the window. "Oh, Emmett, the McFlys – Emmett?" She looked around, wondering where her husband had gotten to.
"He's outside, Mama," Jules informed her. "Somebody was papering our house."
"Oh. I guess he already knows they're out there." She went to the door to greet them.
Outside, the McFlys piled out of their cars. Dave spotted a shape around the corner. "Hey, isn't that Dr. Brown?"
Marty sighed as he saw the white "streamers" in the tree. "Looks like Needles found out where he lived in time to pay his yearly visit. You guys go ahead in. I'll stay out here and help." His family nodded and went to the front door.
Marty rounded the corner, hoping they wouldn't end up working in another awkward silence. "Hey, Doc?"
"Huh? Oh, hello Mar--"
Both stopped dead as they caught sight of each other's costumes. "–ty," Doc breathed. "Great Scott."
They stared at each other a long while, trying to digest the information. What the hell? He dressed up as – me.
I'm his hero?
Very, very slowly, Doc began to smile. "Why--"
"Damn it, Doc, you've saved my @$$ how many times?" Marty demanded, cutting him off. "How could you not be my hero?"
"Me? Marty, you've rescued me from certain death quite a few times yourself. You're the real hero here."
Marty felt his eyes start to get foggy. He quickly blinked a few times. "You know, I thought our friendship was in trouble just a few minutes ago."
"Me too," Doc nodded, making no attempt to hide the wet in his eyes. He got down from his ladder and opened his arms.
Some friendships do just die.
Others never die at all.
The End