Chapter 4

Gypsy Robinson

Monday, May 5th, 1986

Hill Valley

5:12 P.M.

Gypsy opened the door to her private office for her latest patient. "So we'll have another appointment on Wednesday, same time."

Marty McFly nodded, smiling at her. "Thanks a lot, Dr. Robinson. This really helped."

"I'm glad to hear it. With any luck, you and your best friend will be back to normal very soon." Marty nodded again and exited the office, going over to talk to a tallish man with his face hidden behind a magazine. Gypsy smiled after him. What a nice boy. And what a horrible thing to happen to him. I can hardly believe that there could be anyone that despicable alive! Glancing at the man behind the magazine, she added, Or that someone could live with him for 17 years and not go insane. Dr. Brown, you are one tough cookie.

Marty left the lobby, having finished his brief conversation with his friend. Gypsy found herself growing curious about the man behind the magazine. Although she and Dr. Brown had lived in the same town for all their lives, Gypsy had only caught the occasional fleeting glimpse of him. Her parents had not approved of him in the least, and had done their best to keep Gypsy and her sister April away from him. It hadn't kept Gypsy from wondering about Hill Valley's resident "lunatic," though. It had just always seemed strange to her that she lived in a town that had its own designated crazy person. When she was younger, she had oftentimes tried to get closer to him, to see if he was really as bad as the rumors had claimed. But her mother had always been one step ahead. Gypsy rolled her eyes. Her mother could be quite overbearing sometimes. . . .

She knew about his reputation, of course -- anyone who lived in Hill Valley did. But she was inclined to believe that a lot of the rumors surrounding him were insecure exaggeration from people who just had to feel superior to someone. Most of it just seemed so unbelievable. Even when I was younger, I thought those were pretty out there. If he had been so unstable, we would have seen some of those rumors bear fruit by this point, she thought. I mean, really? Death rays? Poisoned Halloween candy? Turning his pet dogs into mutated monsters? Ridiculous. I'm sure he can't be that bad -- even if I've never met him.

Heck, I don't even know exactly what he looks like, she realized, surprised. What with my TV being out, I haven't had much chance to see any clear pictures of Jack -- and I doubt Dr. Brown looks exactly like him anyway. At least, I hope not.

Well, here was her chance to find out. Putting on her best smile, she called, "Dr. Brown? I'm ready to see you now."

The magazine lowered -- and Gypsy's breath caught in her throat. Looking at her was a shockingly handsome man. He had thick white hair that seemed to have a permanent case of static cling, just perfect for running your fingers through. . .a nice nose, a strong chin. . . . And his eyes, those big, wonderful eyes, the color of liquid chocolate. . . . Oh, wow. How could Marty ever be afraid of such a face?

Wait, what!

Gypsy blinked a few times, startled. What the hell was she thinking? Dr. Brown was her patient! She shouldn't be thinking of him in a romantic way! But -- but those eyes --

NO, Gypsy. You have to be a professional about this. Besides, he's 65 -- you should be looking for someone closer to your own age. She nodded at Dr. Brown. "Come on in and we'll get you set up."

Dr. Brown nodded back, giving her an obviously fake smile. He set down his magazine on the end table, taking a moment to neatly line it up with the other magazines. He looked back at Gypsy, as if wondering if this small delay was enough to make her call the appointment off. Seeing it wasn't, he gave a soft sigh, got up as slowly as possible, and headed toward her. Gypsy moved back as he entered the room and sat down stiffly on the couch. Gypsy took her regular seat. "You don't look too happy to be here," she noted.

"I'm not," Dr. Brown admitted, sighing. "I do understand why you called me here, Dr. Robinson, and I'm willing to work with you. But -- coming here -- it makes me feel like all those rumors about me were true."

Gypsy fought back the urge to at least pat his shoulder. He looks so downtrodden. . . . Damn, I really wish there was less of a stigma on touching patients. I would have loved to have given Marty a hug when he was telling me about Jack. "I understand. But coming to a psychiatrist doesn't automatically make you crazy, Dr. Brown. It just means that you have some problems dealing with your life as it currently is."

"That's certainly true at the moment," Dr. Brown grumbled. "I never thought -- I seriously thought he was gone. That he was finally bored with me." He snorted. "Shows how much intelligence I really possess, doesn't it?"

"If I'd had a brother like that, I'd want to believe that he was gone for good as well." Awww, he looks so cute like that, I just want to give him a big hug -- PROFESSIONALISM, Gypsy! She picked up her note pad. "Speaking of your brother, I think your family might be a good place to start for you. I know you have a sister as well. What's she like?"

"Emily's a wonderful woman," Dr. Brown said with a smile. "She's always been ready and willing to help me out in any situation. Almost like a second mother, honestly." He chuckled. "It's funny -- when you divide my family up, you have the women, who are all sweetness and light for the most part, then you have the men, who are--"

He stopped, wincing like he was in pain. Gypsy again fought off the urge to touch him. "I take it your father was along the lines of Jack," she said softly, wincing a little herself. Yeah. Definitely one tough cookie.

"He wasn't as bad as Jack," Dr. Brown said softly, looking at his feet. "But that's all the praise I'll give him. My father was an extreme paranoiac, who hated everyone and everything that went against his strict view of the world. Which included scientists -- and by extension, me. He wasn't as physically abusive to me as Jack was, but he was just as mentally abusive." He shivered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I think that's why I hate those rumors about me being insane so much. Because to me, being insane means being like him."

"I see. What else can you tell me about him?" Gypsy asked, starting to make notes.

They talked for about a hour, Dr. Brown gradually revealing more and more about his family life. Gypsy was stunned to discover what a dysfunctional unit the Browns were. No wonder he keeps to himself so much! If I had a family like his, I'd keep to myself too! "Well," she said as their time came to an end, "it honestly sounds to me like you might have some untreated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder yourself. At the very least, you have some major self-esteem issues. I'll schedule you in for Thursdays at four, is that okay?"

"That's fine," Dr. Brown said with a smile. "This -- this was actually quite pleasant. The only person I've ever really talked to about my family is Marty, and even he doesn't know all the details. It felt good to get it off my chest."

Gypsy smiled back. "Hey, that's what I'm getting paid for. I really do want to help you, Dr. Brown. You and Marty both."

"Thank you. That's more than I can say about Marty's previous psychiatrist--" He stopped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult a colleague in front of you."

"It's all right. I personally think she was the wrong one to handle this case, given her rather -- extreme -- biases." Also her rather extreme bitchiness. Wish I could catch these two off the clock sometime so I could tell them exactly what I think of Miss Glenda Adams.

Dr. Brown gave a slight chuckle. "Anyway, thank you," he said, suddenly leaning forward and putting his hand on her wrist.

Gypsy froze. He was -- touching her. . . . His callused fingers felt surprisingly warm against her skin. Like -- like they belonged there.

Dr. Brown quickly realized his mistake and pulled back. "Sorry," he said, turning bright pink. "I know I shouldn't have done that. It's the situation; I'm not used to this."

"It's fine," Gypsy said, doing her best to smile. "Nothing to worry about, really." She got up and showed him to the door. "So, Thursdays at four?"

"I'll endeavor to appear here," Dr. Brown said with a slight smile. "Thank you again."

"Not a problem. Have a good day." She watched him leave, then closed the door and slumped against it. "Crap," she muttered, closing her eyes. "I'm not going to be able to treat him if I can't stop thinking about how cute he is!"

She quickly got on the phone and called some of her fellow psychiatrists. Unfortunately, most were booked solid with patients, and one simply wasn't willing to take him. Gypsy sighed as she hung up on the last call. The only other person she knew who would take Dr. Brown was Dr. Adams, and she certainly wasn't sending him to her! Looks like I'm stuck with him. Damn.

She sat with her hand on her chin, thinking hard. She had survived the first session with him without letting on about any feelings she may have had. And really, was it anything beyond thinking he was a little cute? She had thought patients cute before, and she hadn't had any trouble treating them. It was just a matter of pushing down her own feelings while in a professional setting. Perhaps I can handle this after all. And the guy certainly needs someone's help. . . .

Still, she couldn't get over the feel of his hand against her wrist. There had just been something about that touch. . . . Sighing again, Gypsy picked up the phone and dialed one last person. "Hello, Mom? Hi, it's Gypsy. I'm okay -- I just wanted to let you know that I've thought about it, and -- why not, I'll give the guy a shot. Can't be worse than anyone else I've dated." And it should get my mind off a certain Dr. Emmett L. Brown.

The End