Day 14 - Surrender
A/N: He was getting too old to keep being arrested like this. A short look at Doc's thoughts while waiting for Marty to arrive in 1931. Set during Episode I - It's About Time.
He'd given up on trying to sleep hours ago.
It simply wasn't possible for someone of his age to get any amount of adequate sleep on such a skinny piece of stone. Though I assume the deprivation of hospitable sleeping conditions is meant to be a part of one's punishment.
An involuntary shiver wracked his aging body. He pulled the jacket around tighter, tucking his hands into the sleeves as he contorted his body as far into the fetal position as he could manage, desperate to conserve all of the remaining warmth he had. I knew I should've packed warmer clothing than this. Clara will have my head if I bring home another cold and make the boys sick.
Of course I couldn't have been incarcerated in a modern prison. Specifically, one with adequate heating.
Part of him knew he shouldn't be feeling sorry for himself. I did put myself into this mess, after all. I was the one who insisted that minimal time travel was beneficial to ensure stability of the space time continuum.
Then again, I'm also the one who said 'what the hell'.
He was starting to understand how Marty must have felt when he landed in 1955 for the first time, although in Doc's case it was more deja vu than bewilderment. To revisit a point in history that you had lived through once before already was definitely having a psychological impact.
He couldn't help looking out of his cell when he'd heard his younger voice outside the courthouse earlier in the day. Although he didn't have a good angle from his current position, Doc had still been amazed at just how young he'd looked back then. The hair, the clothes, the mannerisms; all of it had been long forgotten by the passage of time, and the brief view of seventeen-year-old Emmett Brown had left him in a curious state of contentment.
I wonder if it's worth rebuilding the mind reading machine into one that can measure the electrical activity when looking at photos of one's self…
It had taken him two mouthfuls of the dinner he'd been provided to determine that it was a specimen that should've been thoroughly tested for chemicals and other substances, for it tasted about as appetising as a piece of plastic fruit. Although his stomach hadn't stopped protesting in the hours after, he didn't regret not finishing his meal. The last thing I need to get in 1931 is food poisoning.
He decided to roll onto his back, folding his hands beneath his head as he examined the ceiling above. There were cracks in some of the bricks surrounding him, though strangely enough the roof seemed to be the only place where there wasn't some kind of mould growing.
Why the hell hasn't Marty shown up yet?!
The sudden impatient thought startled him. He'd been so calm up until this point, so accepting of the situation he'd been thrust into, and here he was about to have a nervous breakdown in his cell.
Did I miscalculate something? Maybe the car appeared in the wrong place?! What if someone else has found it and now the timeline is-
Doc inhaled sharply. For goodness' sake, Emmett, there's no point in pondering what might be.
But for all you know, you might be alone.
His eyes started to ache as much as his joints.
He found himself longing for the comfort of his own bed.
For the tender touch of his wife.
For the delighted smiles of his children.
For the chance to finally see Marty again.
He finally surrendered to the suffocating sense of loneliness and allowed a few tears to run down his cheeks.
The teasing whispers of dawn crept through the bars of his cell by the time his tears had dried, their tracks still staining the scientist's face. Doc groaned as he stretched his arms out, welcoming the return of circulation to his fingers. Next time, I am not doing this alone.
