One Particular Day
Dan Shannon
Sunday June 9th, 1968
Hill Valley, California
11:23 AM
George McFly stood in the waiting room of the Hill County municipal hospital's maternity ward. With him was his 4-year-old son David and his 2-year-old daughter Linda. His mother-in-law Stella Baines was holding Linda as his father-in-law Sam Baines in was reading a book to Dave to keep him distracted as he sat on his lap. George was really nervous, pacing back and forth as he waited for the news. He rubbed the back of his neck as the summer heat built up in the room.
In the room with them were several other families waiting for their news to come through. George as exceptionally frantic due to a feeling he had about this child being born. He felt a level of anxiety he hadn't felt since Dave was born, or even that night at the dance where he first fell in love with his eventual wife, Lorraine. He wasn't even sure why he felt it, either.
George worked for the Hill Valley Telegraph as an editor. In his free time he tried to write stories in hopes one day he'd be a great author. He got out a few short stories; published in a few magazines, but he was looking to become the next Issac Asimov or even Jules Verne. It wasn't much, but it was starting to steadily raise his stock as a professional.
Every so often his agent would come back with a bit of work on someone else's story to edit or ghost write. It was starting to pay a little more each assignment, but it was still not what he craved as a budding science fiction writer. Nevertheless, it allowed for a comfortable lifestyle in their late-60's era California town.
Still, the stress was maddening. He wasn't sure why but there was this great urgency and anticipation on what sex his newborn was going to be. He had this feeling he knew what his next child was going to be...
He had to get his mind off the situation. He needed to focus on his new story he wanted to start, but he was in dire need of a hook. Space stories were starting be become passe in the sense that Star Trek is the dominating force on television at the moment. The last thing he wanted was to make another Forbidden Planet knock-off that didn't have any flavor. He enjoyed the show himself, sure… if even having this weird itch every time he heard about Vulcans… Even with the upcoming Apollo 11 mission coming in a year's time, space has been done to death.
He had an idea for a story, but he figured he'd let it cool for the time being. No point in making something that people were going to ignore because it'd be like every other story out there trying to capitalize on the subject. That, and he didn't want that very special subject to be lost in the sea of unoriginal muck that was to come out of other low-brow publishers looking to make a fast dime. No, his personal experience had to be released at the right time.
But still, a subject.
George was exhausted. He finally took a seat beside Sam and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He started listening in to his father-in-law and his reading of the available book to his son, "'...I do not like them in a house. I do not like them with a mouse. I do not like them here or there. I do not like them anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.' Okay, I gotta stop reading this. I'm getting a headache." He closed the book and threw it to the side. Dave didn't seem to mind that his grandpa stopped reading the Dr. Seuss book as Sam continued his mild rant, "Aside of the character's snappy name, forcing someone to eat something green when it clearly isn't supposed to be is really stupid. That's how you get botulism."
Stella looked from from her granddaughter and softly scolded her husband, "Sam, now isn't the time for one of your moods." The older man in the room grunted as he shifted in his uncomfortable waiting room seat. He looked to his son-in-law as he pointed to the book he was reading, "How ya like that crap, George? I bet you could write something better than that."
George looked down to the book and saw it's playful, orange color cover with the odd looking characters on it. He picked it up a moment and flipped though it's pages to get a feel for it, "I have to admit, its not my subject matter…"
"It'd be a far cry from those weird monster stories you write," Lorraine's father interrupted him, "Why can't you write something about something real for a change? Maybe about your kids?"
George tried to enjoy the brief circulating air that hit him from the oscillating fan that was in the corner of the room before considering it. He gently put the book down as he tried to speak reason to his unreasonable father-in-law, "I'm not really a children's writer. I like the possibilities of science; where we've been and where we're going, you know?"
"I can tell ya with science where we're going," the older man said, "straight into the atmosphere."
Stella scolded him again, "Sam!"
"We got lucky before, 5 years ago when those Red bastards tried to dump those missiles into Cuba. Now, I ain't so damn sure. After what they just did to Prague in January, we might be in for a nuclear war. I feel it."
An idea came to George. Something about the idea of nuclear war suddenly intrigued him.
Sam continued his new rant, "If it weren't for Kennedy…" the name escaped his lips and made him stop. The name… he felt it several times as the name was said and he couldn't remember why when John F. Kennedy announced his run for the President the name was familiar. For some reason, today he remembered, "Stella? Do you remember that stupid, strange kid we had to take care of? The one that jumped in front of my car?"
Stella Baines stopped cooing Linda in her arms and folded her eyebrows together in thought. She thought hard as she tried to recall, "I was pregnant with Ellen." She had one piece of the image of the person her husband referred to in her head, "He wore a life preserver."
George looked at his mother-in-law. Suddenly, he had another thought through his head. He remembered the kid well. One particular day - a Saturday morning - when he was still in high school he slipped out of the house to get some cold cereal at Lou's Cafe. Just as Biff Tannen and his boys walked into the diner and started to harass him, he took notice of the kid gawking at him. Somehow he knew his name, but it never occurred to him why that was. He remembered the life preserver.
He also remembered when he first met his father-in-law.
George McFly shuffled in his seat, very, very ill at ease with the thought.
"Didn't he say his name was 'Marty'?" Lorraine's mother asked.
Sam nodded, "Yeah. I was halfway paying attention. We just got a television and we were watching the Honeymooners when he was trying to ask about an address. He said something about John F. Kennedy. But… No one knew who he was back then. How the hell would some jerk like that know who he was that far back? That can't be right!" Marty. That was his name. George needed to ask, "What address was he looking for?" "I can't remember," he said, him starting to bounce his grandson on his knee trying to keep him from getting fussy, "I remember saying something about a block past Maple Street on the east end of town."
Marty. That was all he really knew of the man. He came out of nowhere and after a week of him trying to convince him to ask Lorraine to the Enchantment Under The Sea dance, he disappeared. It was strange because that was when Darth Vader came from Vulcan…
There it was again. That damn mental itch. Was the whole thing real, or wasn't it?
"McFly?"
George stood up ramrod straight out of his seat at the calling of his name. The nurse walked in and announced for the father to visit the mother and the child. Everything he was thinking about suddenly left him as he rushed toward the door and out of the waiting room.
The nurse lead George past several rooms before being lead into an open door. In the bright light of the California sun bathing the room in it's soft yellow glow was a hospital bed. In it was an equally sweat-drenched Lorraine, it apparent from her messy brown hair sticking to her forehead. In her arms was their newly-born child. She looked wearily toward the door and saw him walk in. She spoke in a very tired voice, "It's a boy, George. Come look at him."
George looked to the nurse for a moment. The nurse nodded and waved him toward his wife, "It's okay, Mr. McFly. Go ahead." As he walked toward the bed he grabbed the nearby chair and pulled it behind him so he could sit and be beside his wife. The baby boy was asleep in her arms, looking serene as the quiet radiated like the sun in the room. She looked to George, "You want to help me think of a name?"
George immediately jumped on it, "About that. Lorraine, do you remember how we first met?"
"You know," she started, "I don't know why, but I was just thinking about that. Wasn't it through Calvin Kline?" George remembered now. That's right, his actual name was Calvin Kline. He simply went by the name Marty for some reason. George nodded, "Yeah. Me and your folks were talking about it before they called me here. I realized neither one of us ever saw him again after that. Do you know anything more about him? I have this… odd itch."
Lorraine was very tired. Delivering a baby was one of the most energy-draining actions a woman can perform so her ability to recall clearly was strained. She tried to think, "I remember following him one particular day. The day Biff crashed his car into the manure truck. I followed him… to the Brown Mansion."
Brown Mansion? He remembered, the mansion burned down almost 6 years ago, but somehow Dr. Emmett Brown survived. He was living in his garage now after he sold the rest of the land. He asked, "Dr. Brown? The old Manhattan Project scientist? Why'd he go there? Was he related?"
"He called Dr. Brown his 'Uncle Doc'. I guess that would explain why he was so different from everyone. Dr. Brown is a little weird."
"Okay Mr. McFly," the nurse told him, "Lorraine needs her rest and we need to look after your son. We'll call you if we need to inform you of anything." Thanking the nurse George left the room only to be stopped by Lorraine, "George?" He turned to look at her as he awaited what she had to say, "Let me know what you find out, okay?" Shortly after leaving another nurse came in to take the newborn McFly from his mother's arms.
His In-Laws were at the house looking after the kids. Lorraine was well looked after in the hospital, as was his new son. He needed a name for his son, but there was only one on his mind: Marty. He had to know what happened to Calvin "Marty" Kline. Someone that was so instrumental to helping him in being with the woman he always loved from afar – in some ways very inappropriately – had to be seen again. He had to know what happened to someone he considered a very good friend despite their very short time together. He had to let him know how things turned out in this past 12 and a half years.
The family car pulled into the driveway of 1646 John F. Kennedy Drive to the lone-standing garage that was now the residence of one Dr. Emmett L. Brown. In the drive was a white Econoline van with "Dr. E. Brown Enterprises: 24 Hr Scientific Services" painted professionally on the side panels. Stepping out George looked to the now cleared foundation of the old Brown Mansion. What was once the home to a respected Judge and his scientist son was rendered a pile of rubble to be cleared for a possible shopping center. The land was fenced off as a means of keeping gawkers and trespassers away. A sad end to a beautiful home.
As he turned to the street he took notice of the name. "Block past Maple" Sam told him. Riverside Drive was renamed a few years ago in honor of the assassinated President. To imagine, Marty said some really strange things – some that somewhat came true at this point – but apparently he was like that all around. He tried to ignore him at first, but George remembered him stumbling into Lou's and after asking to use the phone he tried to pay a tab he didn't have. Then tried to order a Pepsi to get for free. George was more engrossed in his writing assignment for school so he could get to Biff's. Things changed that week for sure.
He needed to ask Dr. Brown about Marty, but he also didn't want to look like he was there strictly for that. That idea he had in the waiting room. Nuclear war was on everyone's mind, but he barely had an idea what all the concepts were. He studied the old CONELRAD materials and tried to look into the science, but he needed more expert help. Maybe on this particular day he could ask an actual nuclear scientist his experiences. Odd as he was, Dr. Brown couldn't have been that strange.
After walking past the chain link fence he walked to the door of the garage and knocked on the door. He heard nothing on the inside of the garage. Kind of nervous, he stood back on the stoop a bit and looked back into the distance at the old foundation of the mansion when he heard a door open behind him. He turned and saw the door quickly close. George blinked in confusion as he walked back up to the door and was about to knock when the door flung open. A tall man wearing a Hawaiian shirt under a lab coat wearing a large helmet with lights on it stood in the doorway.
George spoke hesitantly at the gonzo sight, "Dr. Brown?"
The man spoke as he grabbed him by the shoulders, "Don't speak!" Yanking him inside the garage door Dr. Brown looked back outside to see if anyone just witnessed him pull a random stranger into the building. He then promptly closed the door behind him.
Before George could say anything Dr. Brown explained quickly, "I don't want to know what your name is or anything about you!" He threw the man into a large chair in front of a bookshelf and while he was disorientated Dr. Brown grabbed another helmet – what looked like a spaghetti collider covered with wires, resisters, and sensors with a long cable attaching to a circuit board on the back – and quickly put it on George's head. Connecting a chin strap to secure the helmet the scientist walked back to a large set of data recorders and a punch card reader.
Flipping a few switches he loaded a short stack of punch cards into the hopper and loaded the program into the computer. He looked back to the man in the seat and spoke to him excitedly, "I'm going to read your thoughts!" After looking back to the hopper all of the cards passed through the machine and the reels in the device started recording. Dr. Brown gleaned his hands onto the helmet he was wearing and pulled down to get proper contact when he started looking to the floor. He spoke, "You come here… to see if my van needs service?"
George twisted his face in confusion. "Huh?"
"Keep quiet!" the scientist demanded. Flipping a few more switches his hands started to rub on the lights on the helmet – likely transistor tubes to make sure they were warmed up – as he thought. He tried again, "You… want me to comment on the state of Soviet tensions in Czechoslovakia?"
George raised an eyebrow at that one, "Well, you're kinda on the mark."
"Not a word, now!" he shouted. Now George was getting annoyed as he watched the scientist before him peer and actively look at him. He looked at his suit jacket and noticed his press credentials sticking out of his pocket. George knew what was coming as Dr. Brown was about to pull an answer not from his equipment, but from where a different doctor would pull an answer from, "A subscription! You want to sell me a subscription to the Hill Valley Telegraph!"
As calmly as he could, George unbuckled the helmet from his chin and took the helmet off. He gently placed it on the end table next to him then turned to stare the scientist down. His glare was intense, broadcasting his irritation at what just happened.
Dr. Brown realized that yet again, he just stepped into the role of local crackpot with amplified results. Defeated, he unstrapped his own helmet from his head and grumbled, "12 years later, I still can't get this damn thing to work." He dropped the device to the floor.
George stood up and now properly introduced himself, "I am with the Telegraph, but that's not the reason why I'm here. I'm an author and I need some consultation on scientific research."
The man removed his helmet revealing his wild uncombed hair. After retrieving the punch cards from the hopper of the computer he was working on he turned to look at George, "Author?"
"My name is George McFly. I live in town. I had this idea for a science fiction story I wanted to write and I learned you used to work on the Manhattan Project." George was getting just a touch nervous, but he pressed ahead, "Could I trouble you for some input on scientific principals that would help flesh out a story?" The doctor looked at George surprised at first, like his name meant something to him. After a moment he squinted at him and asked, "T-that depends, Mr. McFly," he put the stack of punch cards back down onto one of the data recorders and turned back to him, "What is your story about?"
"I don't have an outline, really," he admitted, "You see, my son was just born today and I was talking with my father-in-law at the hospital. He brought up the possibility of a nuclear war. I know you working at CalTech and getting on at the Project gave you massive insight on the matter…"
"You don't want to know it, kid." George was taken aback at Dr. Brown's statement. He watched as the scientist turned and started fiddling with the device he was working on checking connections and the input panel. George didn't understand why, "I mean, all I want to do is understand the science."
Dr. Brown's shoulders slumped. George heard him exhale hard as he clicked the computer recorder off. With the man's voice sounding very destitute he told him, "George, is it? Sit down." George sat back down in the chair he was thrown into originally. He watched as the doctor removed his lab coat revealing more of the Hawaiian shirt and his khaki slacks. He walked to his bed and threw the coat down before grabbing a desk chair on wheels.
Dr. Brown rolled the chair before George and began sitting down, "I know everyone with inquiring minds want to know the nuts and bolts of it. Operation Crossroads showed us a lot of what the atomic bomb could do. More than we ever imagined. George, instead of telling you the science behind it, let me instead explain the cost. The people who created it paid; the people who used it paid; the people whom it was used against paid; what the rest of us who survived are still bearing the cost."
And hour had passed. George was on the edge of his seat hearing Dr. Brown lay out the horrors of what had happened to the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during the second world war. He explained what happened to various servicemen during the Operation Crossroads tests and fellow scientists working with the Demon Core. He told of the undue damage and lingering horror of radioactivity that resulted from the detonation of the weapons. The so called "Progress" of science creating an even bigger and deadlier weapon in the form of the H-Bomb.
"My God," George was completely horrified. He knew of the horrors of surviving a war, but he never realized how much was destroyed even without the detonation of the weapons. Just the mere presence of the weapons posed a massive risk.
Dr. Brown concluded, "Too many good and smart men died at the hands of such science. To use it to destroy things left me very guilt-ridden. After what I heard happened to those men on the Navy ships at the Bikini Atoll, I knew I couldn't be a part of it any more. The people who wanted to use our good nature and desire to better mankind was used by men acting like children who could – at any moment – throw a tantrum and destroy us. To glamorize it would be irresponsible, just like it was for us to make it to begin with."
"But," even though George was afraid and disgusted, he felt there was justification, "we were at war then, and we still are now. Nothing changed."
"Yes, but…" Dr. Brown became agitated at that response, shifting in his seat as he tried to articulate the differences now, "The human race has always attacked itself over differences and resources for millennia, but we only attacked other humans or animals that assisted them. With the vast nuclear obliteration and lingering radiation we now possess, it goes far greater than that! Animals; crops; bacteria, even. The damage done not only effects the armies, but the people. And for generations! After what we did to Japan, even with all the anger we had for them attacking Pearl Harbor, the civilians shouldn't have suffered for that!"
George saw the look on the man's face and knew he was telling the truth. For all of the unknowns of radiation he was now starting to understand – just enough – that there was a lot of uncertainty in the concepts laid out in such a war. That was why there was no information in those old brochures he read. The worst part was what little knowledge the people had was only enough to make them scared. The truth was far worse. In the case of a war, maybe the government knew there was no surviving it. The Ducking and Covering started to sound more like a means of keeping the bodies orderly in the eventual cleanup of the aftermath and death toll. But in truth, the death toll of such a war was much higher. Even if you survive, how long would that be for? That was why he now thought survival technically didn't exist.
"You know," Dr. Brown continued, "shortly after Robert Oppenheimer was discharged from the Atomic Energy Commission and lost his security clearance, we met after Enrico Fermi died. Him and Leslie Groves interviewed me and brought me onto the Project. We weren't what you'd call 'friends' but we had a respect for each other and what we did. On that particular day I told Oppenheimer, 'I can't live with what I did.' He looked at me with those blue eyes of his and he told me, 'Emmett, I understand… and I agree. I'm so sorry I put you though that.' That was 1954. If I had to guess, you were in high school then."
That reminded George. The whole reason he was actually there. He had to break it in delicately to see if he could get him to spill, "Yeah, I was. I remember this one person I knew while in school that kinda made me think of this idea. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have decided to be a writer, you know?"
Dr. Brown looked up. He had a face that spoke of suspicion, his tone of voice reflecting that, "Oh?"
"I was talking with my wife shortly after my son was born today. She thought of him, too. She told me she met you because of him."
The scientist twitched a bit. He knew.
"You mean Marty?" George nodded his head. He watched again as a look of sadness came over the older man's face. Again his shoulders slumped as George went to explain his story to him, "Lorraine told me you were is Uncle and he was staying with you for a week. You see, Marty showed up in town and before I knew it, he was kinda… following me around. He followed me into Lorraine's neighborhood and saw me... fall off my bike into the street." Of course George wasn't going to admit how he actually got into the street.
He continued, "The next thing I know, I'm standing up only to get thrown hard out of the way of Lorraine's dad's car. Marty ended up hit and thrown to the ground. I panicked and got back on my bike to run away. I'm not sure why, but on that particular day all the way until this dance we had that Saturday, he hounded me to ask Lorraine out to the dance. In truth, I always liked Lorraine. Everyone always picked on me because I was Irish, so I knew I was such a square that I was afraid she'd reject me because of that. All I needed was someone to tell me rejection wasn't the end, and I can't help but think of Marty when I do."
"He gave you confidence?" the scientist asked.
"So much so when the school bully somehow got ahold of her in the car Marty was in, I actually… slugged him! I mean, I knocked Biff out! When he shoved her down, I got absolutely frosted and I decked him. I never, ever thought I'd do it."
"Doing the right thing against a strong enemy is a hard thing to do, George," Dr. Brown said, "Marty knew that. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have rediscovered my potential. That week, he helped me, too, and I remember him every day because of that." That phrase made George think a moment. Something was… off about that statement. In the end to lead into the main question he had to ask the older man before him.
George drew a breath and asked, not sure what answer he was likely to get, "I came here to ask you something, Doctor, and I didn't mean to lie to you, but what happened to Marty? You're the only other link me and Lorraine have to him."
A look came over the doctor's face. He looked down at his lap, placing his hand on his own thigh and rubbing the top of his leg nervously as it looked like he was thinking of an answer. He stayed quiet for a few moments before leaning forward in the desk chair and looking up, "George, Marty wasn't really my nephew."
George blinked, "What?"
"He was actually the son of a friend. I'm sorry for the deception, but... Well, someone who I consider a friend. He's gone, George."
"Gone?" the author asked.
"You remember that life preserver he wore?"
George couldn't help but give off a small laugh. Hell, his in-laws remembered it, "Yeah. I never understood that."
Dr. Brown drew a breath tried to let it out easy. He licked his lips, "He enlisted; joined the Navy. After his stint with the Coast Guard Youth Auxiliary he felt a duty to his country and…"
George suddenly realized what it was the good doctor was trying to tell him. He asked, dread overcoming the stability of his voice, "Vietnam?"
The scientist closed his eyes and solemnly nodded his head.
George stood up like he did at the hospital when the nurse called his name, but now it wasn't from excitement. This time it was from shock. He felt his chest come instantly tight. He turned his back to the scientist as he felt a horrible sadness start to grip him.
Dr. Brown approached him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "A lot of good, honest young men don't come back. These are dangerous times. That was why I said not to glorify it. You do it for one, you must do it for all, and it would be a great disservice."
"That night at the dance," George said trying to hold back tears, "Lorraine asked if we would see him again and he said, 'I guarantee it'. I never got to tell him how everything turned out because of him." Dr. Brown considered the man's words carefully. Of all the people he mentioned he lost to the aftereffects of radiation exposure and the belief of impending health failures he was expecting from his own exposure, he said the only thing that he deemed important, "We remember them so long as we appreciate them. When we remember them, they stay alive. If we share our memories of them, they will live forever."
George looked at the man the whole town called a crackpot nutcase and heard a very sane and heartfelt response. This man wasn't crazy like everyone thought. If anything, he was probably the most stable man in Hill Valley. George was an aspiring author, after all. Who else but him could tell the story of Calvin "Marty" Kline and his mysterious week in the small Northern California town he arrived in?
If that wasn't enough, the scientist offered one other idea that showed outside of the box thinking. He gave him a glimmer of hope, "Besides, there are things even science can't explain. Not yet anyway."
George frowned at that statement, clearly not understanding.
Dr. Brown clarified, "Sometimes you have to look to the mysteries of the universe for an answer. You said yourself he guaranteed you'd see him again. Perhaps... just perhaps... Marty's soul found its way back to this time, to this moment. Maybe... just maybe... he's been reborn."
The tension disappeared.
George's eyes went wide realizing what the older man was saying. He suddenly felt a hope well inside him making him feel alive again. Maybe the best way forward was to remember the past and hope for the future. After all, one has to learn from his mistakes. That was why Marty was hammering on him so hard. This was the last thing Marty had to teach him with help from his friend, Dr. Brown. It was no wonder why Marty was full of such good advice. Even with the failure costing life, maybe those lives get to also try again.
With the sudden bevy of ideas hitting him, he realized hopeful stories will be his path forward. Wiping the tears from his eyes, George took the man's hand and shook it vigorously, "Dr. Brown, I wasn't expecting so much help from you tonight, but I appreciate it immensely. Thank you for giving me your time. I'm sorry about your experiment…"
The doctor playfully waved off the mind reading headgear still on the floor, "Don't worry about it. Just another result. After all, as Thomas Edison once said, 'I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.'" Walking George to the door Dr. Brown lead him out and told him one last thing, "You take care of that baby. Understand?" George smiled and nodded. As the man walked away to the McFly family vehicle he watched the man back out and pull away back onto John F. Kennedy Drive.
After George disappeared past the under construction Burger King the scientist rolled his eyes as he spoke to himself in annoyance, repeating what he told George, "'He died in Vietnam'? 'Maybe he was reborn'? Great Scott, what in the hell was I thinking?" he walked back into his garage and closed the door.
Back at the hospital, George was allowed to see Lorraine in her room before visiting hours were over for the night. He explained everything Dr. Brown told him about Marty, "…and that's how it happened, I guess." Lorraine looked saddened to hear what happened. She wiped tears from her eyes hearing the story. He took a moment to get the words right in his head. He looked to his wife, but then averted his eyes as he spoke, "Lorraine, I've been thinking about this for a while now. I wanted to run it past you first…"
"It's okay."
George looked up to her surprised. It was like they were on the same wavelength. He had to confirm, "Are you sure? That week, you were…" "I know," she said, now her averting and turning away. She was always embarrassed about how she acted with Marty after her father hit him. He was like a little lost puppy to her, but the moment they kissed she knew something was wrong. Maybe it was because she knew he wasn't interested in her, or the other very disturbing connotation; what she said she felt when she kissed him. Marty even agreed.
Nevertheless, she looked back to her husband and told him, "Maybe him being there was meant to break me out of a trance so I didn't act blindly. It felt like he was there to stop me from making a mistake. I mean, what do you think would have happened if you were hit by my dad's car on that particular day?"
"I always loved you," he began, "I was so nervous about having you reject me I never bothered to ask. If I got hit and you just fell head-over-heels for me, I would have never learned to be confident. It made you love me for me, not because of pity. It made you aware of it, too, so you'd keep from making that mistake again. You'd actually hold me to task. We would have been together, but it would have been very different."
"That's what I thought, too. George," she took hold of his hand, "I think you should. I want you to. This is important to the both of us. Go ahead."
In the nursery, George walked to the window and saw all the other children in their cribs among each other. Nurses were in the room giving the babies their evening feeding when they took notice of George. They looked at him as though they were waiting for him to do something. George – being a father of 2 and had already done this before – shouted through the glass, "McFly!"
The nurse heard him and put up an index finger indicating to wait one moment. She picked up a child from the crib and brought the baby boy to the window. George felt a very connected feeling as his child was being held up to see him. He felt like he was familiar with this child more than his others. Not that he didn't love his other children, far from it, but there was something special about this child. He put his hand to the glass as he looked his child in the eyes. He smiled…
"On this particular day, I want you to know that I'm your father, and like a man did for me for a week, I want to do for you for the rest of our lives together. Welcome to the McFly family, Marty."
The End.