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Doc’s head was pounding as he returned to awareness. He struggled to open his eyes—and promptly gave a pained cringe as the light proved to be too bright for him. He shut his eyes again, trying to recall what had happened and how he could’ve lost consciousness.

Ah, yes, he had been at the junkyard with Marty, looking for parts to help with the refurbishing of the DeLorean into the time machine he knew it would eventually become. There had been an old computer motherboard lodge near the top of a mountain of scrap—just perfect for the time circuits.

…Obviously, he had attempted to retrieve it from the pile despite his fear of heights (even if his climb up the clock tower in 1955 had proven that he could set his fear aside if need be) and had, undoubtedly, fallen and knocked himself out.

Even with his eyes closed, he could sense the presence of someone leaning over him, and he managed a pained chuckle.

“I’m alright, Marty…” he began, but then he trailed off.

He quickly realized that the presence was not of his friend and lab assistant—and, in this timeline, also godson. It was a cold presence, lacking any of Marty’s concern and care.

So, the question now raised itself—where was Marty?

…And, come to think of it… where was he?

Once again, Doc tried to force his eyes open, squinting as a piercing light was on his face—the light from a bright lamp.

“Wh… where…?”

“Ah, Dr. Brown, you are awake,” a man’s voice said from somewhere behind the light. Doc couldn’t see him the way the light was positioned, and he couldn’t place the voice, either, but the voice did sound familiar. “It certainly has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

…So whoever it was did know him—but from where?

“Why…? Ah!” Doc began; he had tried to stand up, but had helped upon finding himself bound to a chair—his limbs and torso were wrapped with rope, tying him to the chair.

“You will forgive me, of course,” the man replied. “The restraints are necessary until I can fully assess your state of mind.”

“…Who are you?” Doc asked.

“You don’t recognize me? I’m disappointed—you’re supposed to have a brilliant mind. Ah, but it has been a long time, and while you only met me briefly, it is I who has been following your career.”

Doc blinked.

“…That answers nothing,” he said. “Why are you holding me here—and why am I even here in the first place!?”

“I needed to talk to you after you outright refused to hear me out last month when I called you.”

“A month ago? What…?”

“I’m afraid that my temper got the best of me after you snubbed me,” the man continued. “I retaliated in anger, and in doing so, caused some damage to your residence—and I will admit that, initially, my plan had been to eliminate you. But, in the end, I’m glad you survived that fire—it’s given us this second chance.”

Doc suddenly froze; now it all made sense—he had received a phone call from a month ago demanded that he lend his knowledge of nuclear science to some unspecified crusade. And, after refusing, he had found himself knocked out, waking up in a hospital after being notified that Marty and his father George had found him—inside his burning lab.

Doc’s blood turned even colder in his veins.

Marty…

Another piece of his memory returned from the junkyard, just as he had been preparing to climb the junk pile and get that circuit board…

“Doc, you probably shouldn’t be climbing that—let me…”

“No no no no—I don’t want you getting hurt, Marty!”

“Well, I don’t want you getting hurt either, Doc! And between the two of us, I, er… I have the benefit of youth.”

He had arched an eyebrow at his apprentice at that.

“Are you insinuating—?”

He had been cut off by a gunshot—and the sound of a bullet ricocheting somewhere off of the pile of metal junk.

“Doc!?”

Doc had instinctively grabbed Marty’s arm to guide him away from the danger as another bullet just missed them…

Doc snapped back to the present with a gasp, realizing that he hadn't seen or heard any sign of Marty since waking up.

“Marty!?” he called. “Marty!?”

“I beg your pardon?” his captor asked.

“The boy who was with me—my apprentice! Where is he!?”

“Ah, yes, the author’s son—your godson. That’s the family you’ve been staying with at Lyon Estates since the fire.”

Doc felt a horrifying tightening of his chest. Whoever this was, he had been keeping all of them under surveillance—just as he had feared would happen. He had argued so much with George that his staying with them would put them in danger, but George had insisted—and now…

“Where… where is he…?” Doc asked again, his voice a terrified whisper.

“…I hadn't wanted things to go this way, Doctor,” the man said, with almost a trace of regret.

“Where’s Marty!?” Doc yelled, his voice cracking.

There was a pause, and his captor sighed.

“I am sorry, Doctor. Truly, I am. But I couldn’t have any witnesses.”

“NO!” Doc cried, his entire world crashing down upon him as his mind raced with the calamity that was going to unfold. The timeline…! The Future Boy…! The paradox…! …My best friend…!

“Doctor—”

“Do you realize what you’ve done!?” Doc howled. The fabric of reality would soon collapse upon itself once the ripple effect kicked in, but, more than that, he had lost the boy who was like a son to him—who had been his godson in this timeline…!

“I did what I had to, Doctor,” the man said. “And now, you must, too. I’ll give you a moment—use your anger and sorrow for the cause now.”

There was the sound of footsteps walking away, and then a door opening and closing, but Doc didn’t hear them; all he could hear was the blood rushing in his head.

“MARTY…!” he sobbed, tears coursing down his cheeks.

And, miles away in a junkyard, an unconscious boy awoke with a gasp, despite his pain.

“…Doc…?”

Chapter Text

Marty’s head hurt.

He hadn't wanted to get up—he would’ve been perfectly content to just continue lying wherever it was he was.

But Doc had been yelling for him. And he sounded so upset…

But when Marty had opened his eyes, he was startled to find himself lying in the junkyard that he and Doc had been at earlier.

“Gross…” he grumbled, putting a hand to his aching temple as he sat up. “Doc, what happened? Why did I…?”

He trailed off as he pulled his hand away from his head after feeling something wet and sticky—he let out a squawk of disgust, thinking it was oil or some other junkyard sludge, but his hand came away red.

He was bleeding.

“Doc, what happened…?”

He trailed off as he realized he was alone. But he had distinctly heard Doc calling for him—what had happened?

Pressing a hand to his temple again, he recognized the pile of junk that Doc had been considering climbing, and his own insistence to let him climb instead.

Had that been what had happened? Had he fallen and hit his head while trying to climb it? Doc must have panicked and gone for help…

…Except that Marty knew that his mentor and godfather would never have left him alone in that state…

His memory returned another brief image from earlier—the gunshots, and Doc pulling him away, trying to shield him…

“DOC!?”

Doc certainly wouldn’t have left him alone willingly with someone shooting at them—so where was he now?

There was no blood other than his own on the ground, and an inspection of the area around him turned up a rag and an empty glass bottle which had “chloroform” on the label—and a set of dragged footprints leading away.

They wanted Doc, and they didn’t care what happened to me, Marty realized. Oh man—Doc probably saw them shoot me; that’s why he was yelling for me, wasn’t it!? But where did he go!? Did they take him!?

Panic was filling his own chest now.

It’s gotta be whoever set his place on fire a month ago—they couldn’t get him as long he was staying in our house, so they waited until we came out here…! But where did they take Doc!?

George had tried to find out any sort of clues as to Doc’s assailant—hiring the best private investigators in the state. But not even those investigators had been able to find anything, and George had insisted that Doc never go out alone.

Things had been going so well since then—Doc was finally relaxing as the weeks had passed, and they all must have let their guards down just a little too much. That’s what their enemy had been hoping for.

…And now Doc was gone—taken by the mysterious arsonist. They could’ve been far out of the state by now!

Marty sunk back down to the ground, not even bothering to stop his tears.

“What happened to you, Doc…? Where are you!?” he asked, despairing.

Doc had been a part of his life since he was born, having taken his role as godfather seriously and essentially being a third parental figure to Marty, always there when Marty needed him. And Marty hadn't been able to return the favor.

As Marty stared blankly at the dragged footprints, he tried to reassure himself that if Doc had been killed, they wouldn’t have bothered to drag him away—they would’ve left him there along with him and gotten away.

…Maybe, if he followed the tracks, he’d have an idea of where Doc had been taken.

He knew he ought to call home and let his parents know what had happened—but there was no time!

And Marty took off in the direction of the tracks—hoping that he wasn’t already too late.

Chapter Text

“That’s a risk you’re gonna have to take, because your life depends on it!”

Doc still remembered the older Marty’s words as clear and panicked as they had been back in 1955. He was doing his best to hold on to that memory—it would fade, wouldn’t it, once time rewrote itself again? But the paradox was beyond that, now—Doc only knew Marty this young because of what happened in 1955; now that he was dead, 1955 couldn’t happen, and by all accounts, they wouldn’t have met this early.

…No, this was so complicated now that spacetime would surely collapse on itself. What would become of him when that happened? More importantly, what would become of Marty when it was all over? Would he be dead or alive?

Tears filled his eyes again. Whatever would happen, it wouldn’t change the fact that Marty had done all he could in 1955 to make sure that Doc survived, but now, Doc had been powerless to save him.

Let him come out of this alive somehow, he silently begged. Whatever happens to the continuum—whatever happens to me—just make sure Marty lives. Please.

The door opened again, and his captor now stood with his back to the light once more, hiding his identity—not that Doc could’ve seen well with his eyes full of tears and with no way to wipe them away, as his hands were still bound.

“…This display of emotion is most unbecoming, Doctor,” the man tutted. “It paints you as weak and unmanly.”

“You killed my godson!” Doc snapped back, his voice cracking.

“He would’ve died anyway!” his captor retorted. “If not now, he would have perished in the war!”

“What war!?” Doc exclaimed.

“The one that’s coming!” the man said. “Do you honestly think all these treaties and negotiations will work!?”

“…I’d hope they would…”

“Impossible! No other outcome is possible! That’s why I need you, Doctor—to give us something to broker a surrender of all parties.”

“…What…?”

“Your knowledge on the Manhattan Project—you helped develop the first nuclear weapon,” the man said. “You can help me build one.”

“Why the hell would I do that—especially after what you did to Marty!?” Doc snapped back. “I don’t owe you any favors—and I’ve got nothing left to lose now.”

“Oh, then the rest of the McFlys mean nothing to you? I see…”

Doc paled.

“You wouldn’t…!”

“It’s just as with the boy, Doctor—they will die no matter what if you refuse to help, either by my hand, or by someone else’s.”

Doc shook his head in horrified disbelief.

“How are you so sure of this?” he asked. “What did you hear?”

“I didn’t have to hear anything, Doctor—it’s inevitable.”

“We’ve avoided it since 1945—what’s the difference now?” Doc asked.

“Because people like you, Doctor—soft people displaying conduct unbecoming and relying on sympathy rather than pragmatism,” the man scowled. “Do you really expect this to end peacefully? It’s all a ruse; once an opening is found, there will be war. I need to make sure our side is sufficiently equipped. I need your knowledge.”

Doc shuddered.

“And if you give a damn for any of the other McFlys,” the man continued. “You will give it to me.”

“Please…” Doc begged. “Please don’t do this…”

The man gave a snarl.

“Stop that sniveling,” he growled. “I’ll give you time to man up—but then, we must begin. Or there will be consequences.”

The man had stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving Doc still bound to the chair, shuddering.

If there is going to be a paradoxical reset due to the collapse of the continuum, I just need to stall long enough until it happens, he thought. But I still don’t know what’ll happen to Marty. I still might never see him again…

Far from reigning in his emotions, Doc could only start sobbing again at the thought.

Chapter Text

Marty was still following the tracks as he ended up in the alleyways of what had once been a bustling shopping district, abandoned after foot traffic proceeded to switch to the mall. Plenty of abandoned storefronts were around, but the tracks were harder to follow on the dirty concrete—but jostled trash cans and debris marked the way from there, leading to a back alley behind an old restaurant.

The back door was locked, of course, but Marty noticed that the basement windows were broken, allowing him to squeeze through.

The basement was covered in dust; Marty winced as he realized he was probably getting dust in his wound, but he could worry about that later, perhaps.

The important thing was finding Doc before anything happened to him. And it was clear that Doc had not been brought in through this way, as there were no tracks in the basement. Clearly, they had taken the door.

The stairs led him to the kitchen, also abandoned; there were no tracks here, either. Marty didn’t bother and instead went to the kitchen door, but paused as he found the kitchen’s swinging doors blocked from the outside with furniture and other fixings that made it impossible to get out.

Marty stumbled backwards in despair. Doc was here—so close—and Marty couldn’t reach him!? He held his head in his hands and was about to start crying himself when he suddenly heard Doc’s voice yelling and arguing with someone else.

“He’s okay…!” he gasped.

But… for how long? Whoever he was arguing with seemed furious, and Doc just seemed so… devastated.

Marty followed the sounds of the arguing to a dumbwaiter shaft; Doc and his captor were just a floor above!

Marty then took a glance at the dumbwaiter itself; it would be an easy fit…

There was the sound of a door slamming from the floor above, and then it was quiet—except for some quieter sound.

“Doc…?” Marty asked. He sounded like he was crying.

He didn’t waste anymore time; Marty got into the dumbwaiter and slowly began to pull himself up, remembering Doc’s lessons about pulleys and other simple machines. When he reached the next floor, he paused, stunned, to see Doc tied down to the chair, sobbing in utter despair.

Marty got out of the dumbwaiter, talking as loudly as he dared, not wanting Doc’s captor to hear him.

“Doc…?”

Doc froze with a shrill gasp, and then he was silent, as though trying to determine whether or not he had really heard what he had just heard.

Marty ran in front of his line of vision to reassure him, and Doc could only choke out a sob of relief, though his eyes quickly filled with worry on account of Marty’s wound.

“Marty…!”

“I’m okay, Doc,” Marty said, not stopping his own tears. “I’m going to get you out of here!”

“Marty, no—listen to me!” Doc pleaded, as loudly as he dared. “Marty, you need to get out of here right now!”

“I’m not leaving you here!” Marty answered, pulling out a Swiss army knife he had “borrowed” from Dave. “I’ll cut you free!”

“Marty, no, please! Please, listen to me—get out of here the way you came and call for help!” Doc pleaded. “I’ll stall him; just call your dad on the nearest pay phone and tell him where I am!”

Marty looked torn, but as he glanced over at the dumbwaiter, even he had to concede that Doc was never going to fit in there. Holding back a sob of his own, Marty just hugged him.

“You gotta be okay when I come back, Doc,” he pleaded.

“I will. I promise.”

Doc didn’t dare to breathe again until he had heard Marty’s footsteps behind him—and the sound of the dumbwaiter going back down shortly after.

The blood on Marty’s face and hair was concerning, but the important thing was that he was alive. Doc wasn’t sure how, but he wasn’t going to question it. The second most important thing was that the timeline was safe, providing he could get out of this predicament himself.

He would certainly find a way to stall now that he knew Marty was alive; despair and sorrow had given way to indignant anger at his unknown captor for daring to put his apprentice and godson in such danger.

Chapter Text

Marty hadn't been gone for long when Doc’s captor returned, the light once again behind him.

“Well, Doctor?”

“Look, you’re not the only one with questions,” Doc said. “For one thing, you seem to know me, but I can’t place you. Who are you?”

“Someone who saw great potential in you when you were in Los Alamos during an inspection tour,” the man replied. “Though I do lament how… weak you are. We wouldn’t have stood for that emotional display from earlier.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not you,” Doc intoned. That clue didn’t help at all as to the identity of his captor; countless inspection tours had come and gone on a regular basis in and out of the facility, and plenty of them had voiced that they were impressed by how young he had been and still working on the Project with the likes of Oppenheimer and his close associates.

“When did you become so soft, Doctor?” the man tutted.

“I was always like this,” Doc said. “You clearly didn’t know me beyond my knowledge and qualifications.”

“Fortunately, that’s all I need to know, in this case,” the man replied. “Once I have you working for me, that will be enough to convince others to join the cause.”

“…So this is just you trying to get a nuclear weapon!?” Doc asked. “No support, no resources—nothing!? All of this, based on your calculations that war is inevitable!?”

“Exactly!”

“…Then why would I join a pointless ‘cause’ like this?”

“Because, Doctor, I hold the fate of the remaining McFlys in my hand, remember? Your cooperation will keep them safe!”

Doc sighed, pretending to think long and hard over his “choices.”

“I guess… there’s nothing else I can do,” he said. “If it will spare them, I will do anything.”

“Excellent, Doctor; I knew you were smart. Now, obviously, we will have to leave Hill Valley without being observed—”

He was cut off as sirens became audible, approaching the building. The captor swore, clearly not wanting to be found.

“Very well—you’ve got a reprieve,” he said. “But I’ll be back to bring you aboard, Doctor—don’t you forget it!”

The man ran from the room, leaving Doc tied to the chair still; there were soon footsteps running everywhere, and, finally, he was found and freed; outside, he sighed in relief to see Marty there—his head bandaged—and standing next to his father. The both of them ran to Doc’s side.

“Is Marty alright!?” Doc asked.

“He was grazed, but he’s okay,” George said, clearly furious. “How are you, Doctor?”

“I’m fine—it was Marty I was worried about…!”

“I was worried about you, Doc!” Marty exclaimed. “I thought you were going to be kidnapped and dragged away to places unknown!”

“I would’ve been if you hadn't found me,” Doc admitted. “Thank you for doing what you were told.”

Marty just hugged him, and Doc hugged him back before turning to George.

“George, I’m so sorry—”

“Doctor, it’s not your fault,” George insisted. “I’m just glad that you and Marty are alright.”

“So am I, but…” Doc sighed again. “It’s clear I can’t stay with you any longer, George.”

“What are you talking about!?”

“It’s exactly like I’d feared—that my presence was putting you in danger! Whoever it was who tried to take me, he tried to kill Marty, and he threatened the rest of you unless I complied with his demands. And we have no way of knowing if he'll be found anytime soon!”

“That’s all the more reason to stay with us,” George insisted.

“Yeah—Dad’s right!” Marty said. “We need to stick together more than ever—it’s because you and I were wandering off together away from the house that we got shot at, Doc! That creep never tried anything at the house!”

“Marty…! George…!” Doc shook his head. “Look, this is all my problem—and I’ve always handled my problems alone; you shouldn’t have to be dragged into this!”

“We aren’t dragged, Doctor—we’re here willingly,” George insisted. “I know you haven’t had much experience with going through things without being alone, but you know what? You’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah!” Marty agreed.

“But… he’s going to try again if he gets away—and he has enough of a headstart that he probably will,” Doc insisted. “He’s not going to give up just because this failed!”

“Let him try,” George said. “I’ll order added security for the house, and I’ll make sure the kids stay home until this fiend is caught—there are ways to make it safer. Look, Doctor—the last thing we’re going to do is abandon you, no matter what danger we put ourselves in. That isn’t how we McFlys roll.”

“That’s right, Doc!” Marty exclaimed. “We won’t let ‘em hurt you ever again! I promise!”

Doc sighed and knelt down in front of Marty.

“And I promise not to let him hurt you ever again, too,” he vowed.

He drew the boy into a hug, hoping that, when the fiend returned, that he would be able to keep his vow.

Until then, he would draw comfort from his honorary family—something that, indeed, would take some getting used to. But that wasn’t such a bad thing