Day 9 - Acceptance
A/N: An short, alternate version of Doc and Marty's timeline conversation while in 1985A. Set during Part II.
If all of this time-travelling had proven one thing, Marty decided, it was that no matter what timeline they were in, Doc's lab would never be organised.
Though in this instance, it looked more as though a hurricane had more to do with the state of the lab than Doc's pure scatterbrain nature. Marty found himself constantly tripping over piles of shattered glass, aging bricks and vast amounts of miscellaneous papers. A lingering smell of decaying animals hit his nose, and he couldn't stop an involuntary gag when his foot came into contact with a long-dead rat.
But after Doc had explained to him just how screwed they were, and the consequences of this new reality, he decided he'd happily step on the rat again.
At least he could wash his sneakers afterwards.
He squinted through the magnifying glass that Doc had given him, peering at the granulated image of Biff at the races. It was a few seconds before he finally spotted the handful of pixels in Biff's pocket that looked very familiar. "The almanac!"
Marty felt sick. "…Son of a bitch! He stole my idea!" He slammed his fist into the collection of newspapers, his fist leaving an indent in the aged documents. "He must've been listening when I-"
Oh.
Oh no.
An icy chill ran down his spine.
"Geez, Doc, I'm such a dumbass!" Marty threw his hands up before leaning against the desk, the severity of the situation quickly sinking in. "W-Why the hell did I decide to buy that stupid book?! I knew you were gonna say no, so why did I bother?! Why didn't I rip up the damn thing? Or return it to the store?!"
"Never mind now, Marty," Doc leaned over his shoulder. "It's all in the past."
Marty raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean the future?"
"No, I mean the- never mind," Doc quickly decided against another tangent about timelines, instead returning his focus to the chalkboard. "Our only chance to repair the present is in the past! We need to go back and find out the exact circumstances in which Biff got his hands on the sports almanac."
Marty couldn't tear hands away from his head, gripping the strands so tightly that he felt some pull away from his scalp. "D-Doc, how are you okay with this? H-How are you so…so understanding of what a stupid thing I've done?! I've broken your trust, I've ignored you - hell, I-I've ruined the entire universe, for God's sake!"
A clap of thunder rumbled outside the safety of the lab. Marty found himself leaning on the piles of newspaper archives, rubbing his eyes furiously in an attempt to stop his weak resolve crumbling into tears. "God, I-I knew I was an idiot, but…this is a new low for me."
"Marty," Doc placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, "look at me please."
It took a few moments for the reluctant teenager to comply, struggling to look his friend in the eye with the level of shame weighing on his heart. At that moment, he would've happily crawled under the table and allowed the lab to collapse on top of him, rather than have to face a disappointed Doc Brown.
"We all make decisions that affect the course of our lives, Marty. And all of those choices have consequences, regardless how big or small they may be," Doc spoke patiently. "Yes, what you did was wrong and immature, but the fact that you have owned up to that act and expressed humility is a good sign."
Marty wondered why he'd started blinking so rapidly, and felt his chest hitch. Oh come on, McFly, now is not the time to get emotional.
"Marty, I do forgive you. Please don't doubt that," Doc emphasised his words with a pat on the young man's shoulder, concern evident in his expression. "You're a good kid, after all. And luckily for us, this mistake can be fixed."
The teenager let out a shuddering sigh. "You sure?"
"Absolutely," Doc proclaimed. "We just need to know the exact date, and then we can find out exactly how Biff gave the sports almanac to himself. Then once we return to 1985, everything will have been restored to the timeline we know."
Marty took some time to process this news, ignoring the howling wind and rumbles of thunder. He finally met the scientist's worried gaze, a fresh determination across his face. "Drop me off at Biff's place, Doc. I'm gonna ask the bastard myself."