Misery Journey
A BTTF: PreTime Story
By Flaming Trails
Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, time travel would -- probably would make even less sense than it does already.
Notes: Written for the July backtothefanfic LJ challenge. I was tempted to do the "4th of July" incident mentioned in Part III, but decided instead to explore Doc's very first drink. The title comes from the title of a story arc in the webcomic "College Roomies From Hell!" where bad things happened after a trip to a bar. Dr. Weasley is, obviously, a nod to Harry Potter.
Tuesday, July 12th, 1938
Hill Valley
5:42 P.M.
"You know, I should have known things were going along too well."
Holly looked up from her book to see her best friend, Emmett Brown, standing over her. She was immediately struck by how dejected he looked -- shoulders slumped, face almost slack. . . . And his eyes -- normally so expressive, they were now dark and empty. "Emmett, what happened?" she asked, concerned.
Emmett sighed and sat down on the grass next to her. "Lucy and I just had a huge fight. Apparently I haven't been paying enough attention to her lately." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean to ignore her -- I just had a new invention idea! She knows how I get when I've made a breakthrough! Still, she was just so upset. . . . Great Scott, I feel terrible."
Holly tried to keep her expression sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Emmett," she said, putting her arm around him.
Emmett lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. "Really?"
"Yes! I'm sorry that you had a fight with Lucy, and I'm sorry that you came off the worst in it."
Emmett huffed quietly. "Don't get any ideas about giving Lucy a 'taste of her own medicine.' I know you don't like her, but she is my girlfriend." He looked at the ground. "Or, rather, she was."
Holly sighed and hugged him. "I won't go after her, I promise. I care about you too much to upset you more." She squeezed him lightly. "Though I'd do so in a heartbeat if you wanted me too."
"I'd rather you stay here and attempt to cheer me up."
"Not a problem," Holly smiled. "So what's the new invention?"
"It was supposed to be a new kind of blender. Unfortunately, my father caught me building it in the garage and confiscated it." Emmett grumbled to himself. "It's probably nothing more than scrap metal now. Damn, I hate that man sometimes. . . ."
Holly winced. "Ouch. That's too bad."
"I know. On top of that, I've run into some problems at the college."
"Over summer break?"
"I'm volunteering at the science lab. I hear a lot of news going around campus. Anyway, apparently I've managed to upset one of my teachers."
"Did you go up and correct someone again? I keep telling you that's a bad idea."
"Don't worry, I've kicked that particular habit." Emmett sighed again. "But that doesn't matter to Professor Vonderhoff. He's trying to get me dropped out of his history class because of my age. He doesn't think someone as young as I am should be allowed in college."
"Why not! Everyone knows you were practically ready for college by the age of ten!"
"Everyone knows that, but not everyone agrees it would be best for me. You must have heard the rumors that started flying when I was advanced to the fourth grade at age six. I'd wager that a good 67 of the town agrees with Vonderhoff." He leaned forward and stared morosely off into space. "What's truly pathetic is that I like his class. He's one of the best teachers I've ever had. And he doesn't want me there."
Holly pulled away and began ticking things off on her fingers. "So -- you've had a nasty fight with your girlfriend, your father trashed your latest invention, and your history teacher is trying to get you kicked out of his class. Life really doesn't look good for you right now, does it?"
Emmett shook his head. "I should have expected this. I was riding high for too long. I should have known it would all come crashing down in the end."
Holly gave him a squeeze. "Yeah, but don't worry. You know this will pass too. Life is all about balance. The good times may go away, but so do the bad times. I'm sure you'll be riding high again before too long."
Emmett gave her a small smile. "Thanks."
Holly grinned back. "And in the meantime, I'm going to get you so drunk, you won't even remember your own name!"
Emmett blinked a few times. "Wha-what?"
"It's tradition! Guy has a lousy day, he has a few drinks! God knows you deserve it."
"But -- I'm not legal yet! I'm only 17!"
"But I'm 18," Holly replied, pulling him to his feet. "And I know I can sneak you in -- I have it on good authority nobody at the Palace Bar checks ages."
Emmett was a bit reluctant. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I've never had anything alcoholic before. And the idea of being drunk and out of control. . . ."
"I'll be right there with you," Holly reassured him. "We'll get drunk together. It'll be a bonding thing."
"But what if we end up -- doing things of a more -- romantic nature?"
Holly made a face. "Ew, I'd never do anything like that with you! Uh, no offense. . . ."
"It's all right, I find the idea of doing something like that with you rather disgusting myself. But doesn't getting drunk lower your inhibitions? I don't want to do something I'll regret."
"Hmm, good point. Well then, I'll stay sober and make sure you don't do anything stupid." Holly gave her friend her best "puppy dog eyes." "Come on. Everyone should have at least one drink in their lifetime. And I promise that I'll keep you safe."
Emmett considered it for a long moment. The idea of being able to drink away his troubles for a night was appealing in an odd way. And he knew that, despite her rather interesting sense of humor, Holly wouldn't let him do anything harmful to himself or anyone else. He nodded. "You're right. I do deserve this. Let's go."
"Great!" Holly marched off, singing. "99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, you take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall. . . ."
Emmett smirked, following her. And so the misery begins. . . .
Tuesday, July 12th
6:23 P.M.
"You know, in order to get drunk, you have to actually drink something."
Emmett looked up from contemplating his shot. "I'll get to it. I'm just gathering up my courage." He looked around. "And enjoying the atmosphere." He coughed. "The dark, loud, smoky atmosphere."
Holly rolled her eyes. "It's a bar. You have to expect this sort of thing."
"I suppose." Emmett looked back down at his glass. "What did you say this was again?"
"Whiskey sour. Father has them every once in a while. He seems to like them."
"I see." Emmett picked it up and examined it. "I don't suppose you'd know what it tastes like?"
"I'm guessing sour, based on the name."
"Hey boys, look who's here!"
Emmett groaned loudly. "Oh no, not you. . . ."
A trio of boys swaggered up to Emmett and Holly, grinning nastily. "So if it isn't the mad scientist and the witch," the leader, a boy with slicked back blond hair, said.
Holly glared at them. "Henry," she said shortly. She didn't know the names of the other boys, and didn't care to learn them. Henry was the one who did almost all of the talking anyway.
"I didn't realize people like you two actually showed up in normal places. Your mother not able to brew up something strong enough?"
"As far as you know, her brews are too strong," Holly shot back. "I came here for a bit of light refreshment."
One of Henry's cronies, a brunet in a striped shirt, punched Emmett in the shoulder. "What about you, freak? Not brave enough to drink one of your own mixes?"
Emmett ignored him, looking at his shot with renewed determination. Henry and his gang were just one more reason to get drunk and forget the world.
Henry punched him as well. "Hey, madboy, we're talking to you!"
"I have no wish to engage in conversation with you," Emmett replied coldly. "I came here to drink."
The boys broke out into hysterical laughter. "You!" Henry snorted incredulously. "Hell, I don't think someone like you could keep soda pop down!"
Holly lifted an eyebrow. "Considering I've seen you try to steal soda off him. . . ."
"You know what we mean, witch."
"Go ahead, Brown," the third boy, a redhead wearing a fedora, smirked. "Drink that shot. I dare you."
Emmett glowered at them, then raised his glass. "To getting drunk enough to forget that all of you exist," he said, mentally adding his father, Lucy, and Professor Vonderhoff to the gang. Then he threw the shot down his gullet.
The drink was rather sour, and the alcohol burned his throat like fire. Emmett took a few deep breaths as it made its way down, trying to acclimate himself to the sensation. Once he was certain he wasn't going to throw up, he wiped the water out of his eyes and looked at Henry and his gang. They looked rather impressed, despite themselves. Emmett gave them a smirk --
And then, with no warning, everything went black.
Wednesday, July 13th, 1938
Hill Valley
7:45 A.M.
Great Scott, my head. . . .
Emmett opened his eyes with a loud moan. He had the distinct feeling someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull sometime during the night. His entire head throbbed with pain. What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton happened to me?
"Good morning, Mr. Brown."
Emmett let out a hiss. The words were like ice picks entering his ears. He looked over to see a man in a white lab coat standing next to his bed. He smiled reassuringly at the teen. "I know it hurts -- I've had my share of hangovers. But I'm afraid I have to talk to you."
"Who are you?" Emmett asked, trying to ignore the sharp stabs of pain.
"Dr. Weasley. Your friend Miss Handlen brought you in last night. Apparently you had a rather interesting reaction to a shot of alcohol at a bar."
Emmett frowned. What had happened last night? He had been at the bar with Holly. . .Henry and his friends had come in. . .insults were exchanged. . .he'd had his whiskey sour. . . . And I don't remember a thing after that. Great Scott, I must have been guzzling shots. "Did she say how many I had?" he asked.
Dr. Weasley smiled again. "One. You had one."
"One! That's impossible! I -- ow," he said, lifting his head off the pillow a little too quickly. "The way I feel--"
"Miss Handlen was quite insistent that you'd only had the one," Dr. Weasley cut in. "We've already contacted your parents about this. Your mother informed us that she has an extremely rare disorder that makes her exceedingly susceptible to alcohol. It appears that you've inherited it."
Emmett shook his head very slowly. "But -- I only had one drink. And -- and from what I remember, I passed out just seconds after swallowing. Surely the alcohol couldn't have hit my bloodstream by then. . . ."
"According to your mother, the disorder causes alcohol to break down in the stomach much more rapidly than usual. It may have entered your bloodstream by that point. We won't know for certain until we do some more lab work." Dr. Weasley patted his head. "In the meantime, you've got some visitors. Feel up to seeing them?"
"I suppose," Emmett said, rubbing his head. He figured that, no matter what he did, his head wasn't going to feel any better anytime soon. And he really didn't want to worry his family anymore than he already had.
"All right." Dr. Weasley went to the door. "He's ready to see you now."
"Emmett!"
Holly's face abruptly filled his field of vision. "Emmett, I'm so sorry," she babbled. "I had no idea that would happen to you! Are you all right? I was so scared when I couldn't wake you up. . . ."
Emmett winced. "Holly, please be quiet," he begged, the words grating on his ears. "You're just making my headache worse."
"Sorry," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.
His mother, father, and sister appeared behind Holly. "Oh, Emmett," Sarah said, keeping her voice low to Emmett's relief. "I wish I'd told you earlier about this. But I wasn't sure -- and you never seemed like the type to drink anyway--"
Elias made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. "I know. My son can't even hold his liquor properly."
Sarah glared at him. "Elias, please," she said through clenched teeth.
"Mr. Brown, I'm the one to blame," Holly added. "I'm the one who convinced him to go to the bar with me." She looked back at Emmett. "The next time I pressure you into doing something, go ahead and smack me one."
"Holly!" Emily gasped.
Emmett laughed weakly. "It's all right, Holly. You didn't pressure me -- I honestly thought it might be fun." He winced again as his head throbbed. "I won't make that mistake again."
"Emmett?"
Lucy's head appeared around the doorframe, looking concerned. Emmett's heart gave a leap. "Lucy. . . ."
"Emmett, I heard what happened to you. Are you all right?" she asked, coming inside.
"Except for the fact my brain's currently attempting to escape from my skull, I'm fine."
Lucy smiled at that. "I didn't want you to go and do that. I'm sorry," she said, sitting on the bed. "I know you and your little inventions. I shouldn't have complained."
"Well, I really should try to make more time for you -- for everyone -- when I'm working," Emmett smiled back, trying to ignore his father's scowl at the mention of "inventions" and Holly's rolled eyes. "I'm sorry too."
She kissed him. "It's fine. And look, now I know you won't blow that wonderful fortune of yours on alcohol."
Emmett laughed at that. "Nope." Well, I guess this "misery journey" did have one good outcome. But I don't think I'll ever try and get drunk over a woman, or anyone else, ever again!
The End