Disclaimer: Sadly, I only have the right to watch the films on DVD, listen to the soundtrack and anything else that I can legally do. I don't own BTTF. If I did then it would be a miracle looking at how many fans there are out there to compete with!

Chapter 3

January 22nd 1986
1:15 p.m.
Hill Valley Memorial Hospital, Hill Valley, California

"He struck his head on the left-hand side, here, as you can see…"

"…does have a mild concussion, but I suspect this, mixed with the smoke inhalation, is…

"…we'll keep him in overnight, just to be sure, Mrs. Brown."

The activity around him gradually began to bring him back to reality. Doc could only make out the sounds around him at first. The light within the room was bright, and so he squinted hard when he tried to open his eyes. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes, causing a flurry of activity to burst out beside him as the figures realised he was coming to.

"Emmett? Emmett, are you all right?" Clara called to him, holding the hand he had lifted to his head.

"Doctor Brown?" A stranger's voice questioned. Emmett forced his eyes to open to discover the source of this new sound.

The first person he saw was a woman with dark hair tied back and wearing a long white coat. A stethoscope was hung around her neck, and a number of pens stuck out from her coat pocket. She appeared to be holding a clipboard when she spoke to him.

The doctor, Emmett thought to himself. Great! I must be in hospital.

The doctor studied his face as she ran her hand over the side of his head. She then proceeded to shine a torch into Doc's eyes, holding them open with her other hand as Doc kept trying to shut them in response. After the doctor had finished Doc turned his attention elsewhere.

Doc turned his head to the right slightly to find his wife sat beside him holding his hand tenderly. Her eyes appeared to be red and puffy, as though she had been crying none-stop for a long time. Her hair was disorganised and loosely tied back; the sleeves on her black cardigan were pulled over her hands in insecurity. Doc saw the turmoil on her face, and gently lifted his hand to her to stroke her face - his attempt to calm her nerves and to reassure her that everything would be fine.

The returned expression she gave him however did not mirror his. She looked even more worried instead, almost like she held a secret she did not want to share with him. The doctor interrupted their silence.

"How do you feel Doctor Brown?"

"My head is really throbbing at the side here," Doc slowly sat up and pointed to the area in question. The doctor took another look at where he pointed, and then nodded in acknowledgement. Doc's expression turned to confusion. "What happened?" Doc asked.

"You struck your head, Doctor Brown. I believe you have a mild concussion, and you inhaled quite a lot of smoke from the fire, but I think you'll be fine. We just want to keep you in at least overnight to keep an eye on your condition," the woman doctor answered.

Doc took the young doctor's words in, but his confused expression did not alter. Clara began to worry again as he failed to show any response to what the doctor said.

"Emmett? What is it?"

"What fire? What concussion? When did all this happen? What exactly did happen?" Doc glanced from one face to the other for any sign of an answer.

Clara turned to the doctor and smiled politely. "I'm sorry doctor, but I think I need to be with my husband alone for a while, if you don't mind."

The doctor returned the smile, nodding in agreement. "Of course, Mrs. Brown. If you need anything, please just ask."

"Thank you doctor," Clara answered as she followed the doctor out of the room. Doc watched as the two women exited and the door shut behind them. Clara did not return to his side until a few minutes later, obviously having talked to the doctor outside.

She closed the door softly behind her and made her way slowly back to Doc's side. She held her head low and avoided eye contact with her husband as she began:

"Emmett, I'm so sorry…I…I don't know what to say…do you remember anything that happened this morning? Anything at all?" She finally looked up at him, a slight flicker of hope appearing on her face. She hoped he could remember something – anything that would make her task a little easier to do – yet at the same time she hoped he would remember nothing of the terrible event that could – would – scar him for the rest of his life.

"I don't remember much…I seem to recall…oh my God!" Emmett suddenly bolted upright in his bed as though a terrible recollection had just entered his mind. "The terrorists! The terrorists came to kill me, didn't they?!?!? The bastards! They came to reclaim the plutonium!"

Clara swallowed hard. "Yes, they did…"

"It's been 3 months! Why suddenly decide to come now?"

"I don't know. Emmett…

"Then there was the fire! Was there a fire at all?"

"Emmett, please! Yes there was a fire. Please, just listen to me," Clara begged. Doc frowned at her response. Something wasn't right.

"Clara…?"

"There were a group of terrorists," Clara eventually began. "I saw them approach our driveway when I was in the living room. I looked out of the window and saw them run past towards the barn. I ran to the back door and round to the back of the barn. I heard them kick the doors from around the corner of the building, but I didn't know what to do…" Clara looked down at Emmett's hand resting in hers. A tear trickled down her face as she continued.

"I heard them say something to you, and then I heard a clatter, as though things were being thrown about, or something like that"

"They had to look for the plutonium under the workbench," Emmett spoke softly.

"Yes. I saw two of them carry a box out to the van; that must have been the plutonium. I thought they were leaving but then I noticed them look back in the barn. I heard the shots…" Clara reached into the pocket of her cardigan to pull out another tissue, and wiped away the moisture from her eyes. "I panicked…I froze. I was sure they'd killed you!" Her voice had steadily become shakier as the story had moved on, until it had become almost a whisper.

Emmett placed his arm around his wife in comfort as again she broke down. She then shrugged away his support as she backed away. Emmett was about to ask why but was interrupted by Clara.

"They shot Marty…"

Emmett's eyes grew wide at the news. A lump began to appear in his throat as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

"How…how is he?"

"The doctors – they said he was shot six times. They rushed him into surgery as soon as he arrived here…There was nothing they could do, Emmett. I'm so, so sorry…" Clara's voice faded to nothing as the emotion hit her harder than ever and she began to cry uncontrollably. She could not bear to look up to see if her husband had taken in the news.

She eventually plucked up the courage to look up at him. His eyes had glazed over, and he wore an expression of shock so disturbing Clara thought he had had a heart attack. She did the only thing she could do – she pulled her chair closer to Emmett and placed her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest to hide her face. She could hear his heart beat softly; his breathing was soft and slow, almost as though his breath had been stolen from him. It had after all.

"Well, there's only one thing for it then. As soon as I'm discharged out of the hospital I'm going to go back and prevent this from ever happening." Emmett eventually concluded, as though it were not a problem. "I just need to go back, warn Marty that this is what is going to happen, then make sure the terrorists leave…"

"I'm…afraid that might be impossible." Clara remarked, sitting back from where she held him.

"Why? Clara?" Emmett asked as she failed to reply.

"The fire. It destroyed practically everything in the barn – including the time machine."

Emmett frowned, refusing to understand just what it was that she was implying. Then it seemed to sink in even more. The time machine was unusable, at least, for a short time he hoped.

"I mean, I could be wrong, Emmett. I don't know an awful lot about time machines, as you know, and it was hidden underground…" But no matter what Clara said to reassure him, he knew that she wouldn't have broken such news to him if she had thought the damage was not so great. For the first time he truly felt his heart sink within his chest. Of course he would have to examine the time machine himself, but he held out little hope.

Clara leaned forward to hold him again, and he bowed his head to hers and kissed the top of her head gently. Tears began to flow from his eyes, silently pouring out his grief. Clara lifted herself away from her husband to look at his face. She wiped away a stray tear, and then placed her hand on his right arm. Emmett hissed through clenched teeth as soon as her hand made contact. Clara pulled back immediately in concern. She lifted the hospital gown to inspect the area at the top of Emmett's arm, and revealed a long, dark bruise to be the culprit of his pain. Clara's concern turned to confusion at what had caused such a bruise. She looked to her husband for the answer, but he seemed just as bewildered.

"Where did this come from? I don't remember being hit by anything. Maybe I was hit during the fire…?"

"Maybe. Maybe it was the fire fighter when he was carrying you out of the barn. When they were rescuing you."

Emmett seemed to believe that explanation was logical. Even so, it still stung like mad. His memories of the incident began to become clearer to him as time went by. He began to sift through what he could remember.

First he could remember working on…something in the lab. Marty must have been with him helping out, as he usually did. Then there were the terrorists. They must've stormed through the barn doors from what Clara had described. He remembered seeing their weapons; guns of some sort, and then seeing them take the plutonium. Then things began to get hazy. He could remember shots being fired at him, but not hitting him. How could…

Emmett gasped in pure horror as the realisation kicked in at last. Clara jumped, surprised at this sudden outburst. Emmett lifted a hand to cover his gaping mouth.

"I never realised…Oh…my…God…" he whispered to himself.

"Emmett, what is it?" Clara placed her hand on his.

"The leader turned to shoot me for not making them a bomb as they requested, just as he was about to leave. They shot at me but didn't actually hit me. I know how this bruise was caused," Emmett rubbed his arm, pain coming from both the bruise and the memory of what created it. "They would have killed me, had Marty not pushed me out of the way..."

"He saved my life, Clara. He saved me and now he's dead because of how stupid I was to even think of dealing with those no-good bastards."

Clara's eyes shone as new tears formed. She could do nothing to help her husband through this, nothing at all. She had lost the ability to form the words of comfort she wanted to say. All she could do was watch as her husband's spirit died within.

"It should have been me who died there, Clara, not Marty. And now, he's gone for ever…"

Slowly Clara took Emmett into her embrace, and remained there for a long time to come. She feared if she let him go he would simply crumble into a million pieces. She knew he needed her more than ever now. He had lost his best friend of over six years - his time travelling companion. And, worst of all, the irony was that now even time travel itself could not bring Marty back to life.


I've revised this chapter, as I hadn't realised I'd missed an important detail (I think you might guess what that was!). I mentioned why Doc couldn't go back but it's in chapter 4. Just thought I'd clear up the confusion! Sorry about that.