Chapter 2
Monday, November 4th, 1985
Hill Valley
11:48 A. M.
The next week seemed to fly by for Marty. By Monday evening, he had found he had some pretty solid memories of growing up in his new family. The old memories remained, but they felt more like a dream -- which was just fine with Marty. The new George and Lorraine were a bit puzzled over his unusual behavior at first, but Marty managed to explain it away with the story he had given the cop. The McFlys were willing to overlook any little discrepancies after that.
School hadn't changed much either. He was in the same classes as before, although he seemed to be getting slightly better grades. He hung out with the same group of friends, as did Jennifer for the most part -- Marty spotted a few faces missing and a couple of new ones in her crowd. The Pinheads were the same as well, much to Marty's relief. By Halloween, he felt pretty much accustomed to his new life. But there was one very important element missing.
Doc.
Every day Marty walked to his garage, hoping that Doc would be there. He desperately wanted to see his best friend again. He missed him terribly. After all they had gone through together, it seemed beyond unfair that they would end up in different time periods.
He tried to convince himself everything was okay. It all worked out, he thought. Doc's got a family now. He's got a wife and kids who love him. And he's always loved the Old West. He told me himself living back there would be a great way to spend his retirement years. You're being selfish for wanting him to come back to 1985. He's happy where he is. Give it up.
But he couldn't. He just couldn't.
He never acted that way around his friends, though. He was all smiles when he talked about Doc and his new girlfriend to them. He didn't want any of them to know he was hurting inside. Most of his pals were convinced by his charade. But Jennifer and the Pinheads knew better.
"Marty," Jennifer began as they sat down to lunch, "we need to talk."
"You're acting weird, man," agreed J. J. "Goin' on and on about Dr. B leaving. And you're all happy about it."
"So? He's happy. He's got a girl. He's got a nice life where he is. Why shouldn't he be happy?" Marty grinned. "Why shouldn't I be happy?"
Jennifer sighed. "That's just it, Marty. You're not happy. You're putting on an act for us. We know you miss him. I mean, he was your best friend. We know you're upset."
"Look, I do miss him. We had a good run together. But I don't see the point in getting all emotional over it. Right?"
Jennifer and the Pinheads looked at each other. "He's happy," Marty pressed. "I want him to be happy."
The group nodded reluctantly. "Good. Now, guys, I heard the YMCA's holding auditions for a Thanksgiving concert. We should try out."
"I'd say sure, except that I hear Mr. Gipe is judging that one too," Rick said, a tad sullenly. "That guy hates us."
"Come on, you guys. 'If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.'"
"With all due respect, Dr. B never met our shop teacher, Marty."
Marty's chuckle turned into a groan as he heard a familiar voice. "Hey, the big M! I've been looking for ya."
"Hey Needles," Marty said as the teen pulled up a chair at their table. "What's up?"
"McFly, you never raced me, that's what's up. I mean, I know my truck kicks ass, but it couldn't have beaten you that badly. Why'd you turn chicken on me at the last second?"
"Well, first 'cause street-racing's illegal, and second 'cause I didn't want anyone getting hurt. Didn't you see that Rolls that nearly smacked into you? I would have hit that car. I'm not risking my life or Jennifer's just to prove something." Jennifer reached over and squeezed his hand.
"Oh, like hell. You're just a chicken."
Marty leaned forward. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Marty looked at him hard for a minute. Jennifer bit her lip, while the Pinheads looked nervous. Then Marty looked Needles straight in the eye--
And clucked.
The Pinheads burst into laughter. Needles looked completely baffled. "What is with you, man?"
"Forget it, Needles. I don't have to prove anything to you."
"Fine, McFly, be that way," Needles snapped, looking annoyed that he hadn't been able to ruffle Marty. "We all know you're a chicken."
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?"
Both teens turned to face Mr. Strickland, gazing down at them with a sneer. "We're fine, sir," Needles said with oily charm.
"Yeah, everything's cool sir," Marty agreed. He didn't feel like getting into a fight with Needles. Facing down Biff, Griff, and Buford had given him enough fighting for a lifetime.
Strickland, scowling, turned to Marty. "I don't think so, Mr. McFly. Are you still smarting over the fact that he's gone?"
Nobody needed to ask who he was. Marty gazed levelly at Strickland. "He was my best friend, sir. I miss him."
"I know. I told you he was no good. Now look what's happened. He's run off with some woman who probably thinks he's rich." Marty glared at him, getting to his feet. Jennifer grabbed his arm and shook her head warningly. "Or else he's been captured by what's left of those Libyan terrorists he talked to. Face facts, McFly," Strickland said, putting his finger in Marty's face. "You're never going to see him again. He's left. He's gone."
There was a moment of tense silence as the pair glowered at each other. Then, to Marty's horror, he felt tears start to trickle down his face. Shit! No, don't cry, don't cry, he thought frantically as he saw Strickland draw back in surprise. But he couldn't. The emotions he'd been suppressing for so long finally burst out of him. Practically sobbing from grief, he bolted from the cafeteria, followed by the shocked eyes of his classmates and Strickland. "Holy shit, sir," Needles said.
"I -- I -- didn't--" Strickland stammered, flustered. "Miss Parker, go -- go calm him down."
Jennifer was way ahead of him. She jogged after Marty, followed by the Pinheads, Needles, and Strickland. They found Marty sitting by the lockers down the hall, face buried in his hands. "Shit. . . . He is gone. And he'll never come back. . . . Damn it, Doc, I need you. . . ."
Jennifer put her hand on Marty's arm. "Marty. . . ."
Marty looked up, then grabbed her tight and pulled her down next to him, as if afraid she would leave too. "Jennifer, what if I never do see him again? He's my best friend! I miss him. I want him to come home."
"Marty, he'll be back. You're his best friend too, ya know. He wouldn't just leave."
"He might. It's not like he needs me anymore. He's got someone else now.
"Don't talk like that. He'd be a damn ungrateful friend just to abandon you." She used her napkin to wipe Marty's eyes. "Why don't you head to the bathroom and clean up a little?"
"I guess I should." Marty sniffed, then laughed humorlessly. "Jesus, I must look like a nutjob."
"I think you embarrassed the hell out of Strickland, too," Rick told him quietly.
Marty looked back at Strickland. The vice-principal in charge of discipline was standing there, looking unsure what to do. "Sorry, sir," Marty lied, not wanting a detention.
"No, no, it's all right," Strickland said, slowly but deliberately backing away. "Get cleaned up and get to class." Marty nodded, and Strickland walked out back to the cafeteria, very ill at ease.
Needles gave Marty a strange look. "You're weird, McFly," he finally said before abandoning the group.
"Better weird than an asshole," Marty muttered. He headed for the boy's bathroom, wiping his eyes.
Rick joined him. "Man, I think you really confused him. I bet he's never made anyone cry before." Marty just shrugged. "As much as I hate to agree with him, I think he might have a point. Dr. B might not be coming back. Most of the town hates him. If he's found a girl out of state, why would he bother to come back?"
"I know, that's what I've been telling myself. But -- I need him to come back. He's been like -- my dad and my brother. He's family by this point. We've been through a lot together. To have him just -- leave like this. . . ."
"You do have other friends, you know," Rick said, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You haven't been abandoned. Or do we not count?"
"Rick, you don't understand. You and the guys, you're great, you're my pals. It's great hanging out with ya. And hopefully one day we'll all be rich and famous as a band. But Doc. . . ." Marty searched for words. "It's like there's this big void in my life. And nothing else can fill it." He sighed. "It's hard to explain."
Rick considered him a minute. "I never really thought about how close you guys were. I always saw him as a just a bud."
"He wasn't just a bud to me." Marty turned and looked Rick in the eyes. "Rick -- have you ever had somebody you'd die for? I've got two -- Jennifer, of course, and Doc. If I had to risk my life for his, I'd do it in a heartbeat." His eyes were far away, thinking of the gamble he had taken when he had pulled his "Clint Eastwood's bullet-proof vest" trick.
Rick seemed highly unnerved by this little confession. "Marty, nobody's asking ya to die for them."
"I know, sorry. I was just trying to explain how important he was to me." Marty turned and stared in the mirror. "I'm happy he's happy, but I wish he could be happy here."
Rick gave him a friendly slap on the back. "We'll always be here for ya. Even if he isn't." He smiled. "So, was that talk about the YMCA bullshit to avoid the subject, or do you really want to try out for that?"
"Little of both." Marty blew his nose. "If you want to try out, we can practice after school at my house."
"Sounds good to me."
Tuesday, November 5th, 1985
Hill Valley
2:34 P. M.
Marty felt more depressed than usual as he walked home. Today was the day that he had landed back in 1955 and started altering history. It was an important date to both him and Doc, and Marty had kinda looked forward to sharing it with him once all their adventures were over. But now, with Doc touring the space-time continuum --
"Look, buddy, I'm his father! I think I can sign for it."
"Mr. McFly, the sender left very specific instructions that this envelope be given directly to Marty McFly. I don't know why, but I'm obliged to follow them."
Marty looked to see his father standing on the front step of their house, engaged in an argument with a Western Union man. "Hey, what's going on Dad?"
George turned to his son with a frown. "It looks like a late Halloween prank to me. Apparently one of your friends sent you a letter, and thought it would be funny to not let anyone else take it for you."
"Sir, that can't be it. I can assure you that this envelope has been in Western Union's possession for 93 years, give or take."
Marty's eyes bulged. "93 years," he repeated softly.
"And I say you've been hoodwinked," George persisted. "Anybody can make a letter look old. It's not that hard."
"It's been passed down from office to office--"
"I got it," Marty said, yanking the sign sheet from the guy's hands. He scribbled down his signature. "Thanks a lot." He grabbed the envelope and raced to his room.
George and the WU guy stared after him. "Wait! Who's it from?" George called.
"The Doc!"
Marty fell onto his bed, excited. Even if Doc wasn't here, he had at least taken the time to write him again. He eagerly tried to open the envelope to see what Doc had sent him.
Only to find the seal wouldn't give. He pulled harder. Nothing. He grabbed some scissors and tried to cut the top open. To his surprise, he couldn't. Puzzled, he even tried chewing on it. All that netted him was a funny taste in his mouth. Frustrated, he sat back and scowled at it. How did Doc expect him to read his letter if he couldn't get it open?
Then he noticed something odd about the seal. There seemed to be a strip of clear tape covering the top of the envelope. The corner he had chewed on, however was multicolored like an oil spill. Curious, he ran a finger over the tape. It turned completely multicolored and released with a strange sucking sound. Marty grinned and popped open the top easily. Ten bucks says Doc got that from the future. I guess he really didn't want anyone but me opening it.
Peeking inside, there seemed to be a heck of a lot of paper. Marty emptied the contents onto his bed. Out fell newspaper articles, photos, what looked like certificates, and a couple of sheets of paper. Marty picked the latter up first, and saw two dates at the top of one sheet:
April 7th, 1892
November 5th, 1985
Marty smiled again and rearranged the letter so the pieces were in order. Pushing the other stuff aside, he began reading.
Dear Marty,
Greetings from the past. If Western Union continues its trend of excellent service, you should receive this letter on November 5th, 1985. The reason for the date should be obvious to you.
As you've probably noticed, I'm writing this letter from the year 1892. Excluding our brief meeting when I checked on you with my train, it has been exactly six years and seven months since I last saw you. I've really missed you Marty. I was very glad to see that you were well and that Hill Valley was relatively unchanged by our actions in the past. As you may imagine, I've been rather nervous about living back in the Old West.
Which is part of the reason I've decided to return to the future.
"YES!" Marty cried. "Yes!"
Not right away, you understand. After all, I'd have a hell of a time explaining the sudden presence of Clara, Jules, and Verne. I won't officially be back until 1986, or if need demands it, 1987. But I promise that you will see me before then. There's a lot of matters I'll need your assistance with, not the least of which is the search for a new house. And I have to say, the holidays would not be the same without you.
So, let us get down to business. First off, I had a quick chat with your older self. Don't worry about your future, everything is fine. Your address and job have both changed. Marty sighed in relief. He told me that you've been saying that I'm visiting with my out-of-state girlfriend, a schoolteacher named Clara. I think you gave away a bit too much with saying she's a schoolteacher, but that's all right. Just expand your story to include that she's a widow with two young boys. I'll secure the proper papers before we return.
Second, extend my apologies to Jennifer. I acted very foolishly toward her in our travels, and I'm sorry. It was merely out of ignorance and inexperience. Please ask her to forgive me -- I consider her a close friend as well, and I don't want her hating me.
Third, I can't keep you in the dark about what's going in with the new Brown family, can I? Jules is six, born May 25th, 1886, and Verne is four, born October 29th, 1887. They're both very clever and love to follow me around my workshop. Jules likes to help me with the horses, while Verne enjoys playing with his paints. Clara and I got married September 15th, 1885, in the local church. Most everyone seemed rather against our marriage -- what would happen if I died before Clara, etc. My rejuvenation suddenly came in very handy -- I managed to convince everyone that I was really 47 and that my hair had just turned white very early. The town was leery of a married schoolteacher, so they hired a new woman, and Clara assists her. (Much to my relief.) She's doing very well, although she still shudders a little any time we get too close to the ravine. We're all very happy, to be sure, and excited about the move. Clara says she'll miss the 1800s, but she understands the future is my home and where we need to be. I've told the boys all about you, and they're very eager to meet you. Just like I'm eager to see you again.
Marty frowned and reread that last sentence. Something about it seemed odd. The large space between it and the previous sentence indicated Doc had thought a lot before writing it down. There seemed to be a lot of emotion in that sentence. But what, and why?
Oh, hell, I'm probably just reading too much into it,Marty figured. Doc's probably worried about all the stuff that's gonna happen when he comes home, that's all. He continued on.
Marty -- I can't do my feelings justice on the printed page. I want you to know that I thought of you every day. I miss you a lot. I deeply cherish our friendship, and all the sacrifices we made for each other. You're one of the most heroic men I've met.
Marty's lower lip quivered. This sounded like the letter Doc had first sent him from 1885. Sternly telling himself to get a grip, he finished.
That is why I know I can trust you with my family's most treasured possession -- its history. I don't dare leave too much evidence of our existence behind in 1892 -- too many potential problems from nosy historians. But at the same time, I don't really wish to destroy it -- it represents our memories. Included are the boy's birth certificates, my and Clara's wedding license, photos, wedding and birth announcements, and a story about Eastwood Ravine that I thought you might enjoy. Please keep them safe until we can collect them.
Thank you, Marty. You'll always have a special place in my heart. I hope to see you soon.
Your friend in time,
"Doc" Emmett Brown, ELB
Marty smiled through watery eyes. How could Doc write such touching letters? He wished he could write back, but contented himself with the thought that hopefully soon he'd be able to say what he wanted to Doc's face. Blinking back the tears, he picked up the other material and started looking through it.
The first things he encountered were some of Doc's wedding photos. Doc and Clara gazed adoringly at each other in each. Marty smiled as he saw Maggie and Seamus in a few, looking quite pleased. "Man, I wish I could have been there," he murmured.
Finishing those, he progressed to the kids. There were a few pictures of Jules and Verne, mostly as babies. The kids had also each included something in the envelope for him. From Jules was a miniature horseshoe. I made it all by myself, his note said proudly. It's for good luck. Jules
Verne had given him a picture. Marty recognized a crude drawing of himself and Jennifer waving to the train. Your girlfriend is pretty like Mama. I can't wait to meet you. Verne, his note said, obviously written for him by Clara.
Marty set both things aside to put on his wall later, and called Jennifer to tell her the news. While he was waiting for her to pick up, he took a look at the boys' birth certificates. When he saw the names on them, he forgot to talk for a minute. "Hello?" Jennifer called. "Who's there?"
Marty finally found his voice. "He named them after me."
"Huh?"
"Doc named his kids after me, Jen. Listen -- Jules Clint Brown and Verne Calvin Brown. Clint Eastwood and Calvin Klein, it's gotta be."
Jennifer was very confused. "Marty, how do you know that?"
"What? Oh, yeah, he just sent me a letter! He's coming home, Jennifer! Back to the 80s!"
"All right! See, I told you he wouldn't just leave."
"I know, sorry for not believing you. He wants to say sorry too. Says he behaved very foolishly and doesn't want you mad at him."
"I guess I can forgive him. I doubt he's going to pull that stunt again."
Marty chuckled. "Me too. And he sent me a bunch of stuff from his family -- wedding photos, birth certificates, you name it. He told me he wanted me to keep them safe for him." Marty grinned a photo of Doc. "He doesn't want it lying around where it can get him into trouble."
"Good idea. That sounds really neat; can I come over and see."
"Sure." In a few minutes, Jennifer was in Marty's room, looking over the various articles with him. "Clara's wedding dress is so beautiful," she sighed. "I'd love to be married in a dress like that."
"Doc looks pretty snazzy too," Marty admitted. "It's pretty odd to see him in a suit."
"Well, he couldn't get married in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo pants, could he?" Jennifer giggled.
"This is Doc we're talking about. I've seen him wear the same clothes four days in a row when he's working hard on a project." Marty had a funny thought. "Hey, when he gets back, we should ask him if he's met any Parkers."
"Yeah! That would be so cool, considering he's met practically all of your relatives already." Jennifer shook her head. "Doc with a wife and kids. . . . It's gonna be weird when he comes home."
"Who cares. He's coming home. We'll adapt to it. We always do."
Jennifer wasn't so sure, but she wasn't about to burst Marty's bubble. She liked seeing him this way, instead of miserable about losing his best friend. She put an arm around him. "Well, I hope you're right."
Marty grinned at her confidently. "I'm sure I am."