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doctorbrown · 1 year ago

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DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 8 / 31 * OUTATIME 」

October 26, 1985, Lone Pine Mall

01:36

❝Doc... No...❞

When Emmett comes back to his senses, the shock of what he was convinced may still be certain death despite his precautions finally fading enough to bring the world back into focus, the first thing he's aware of is this hot, throbbing pain in his chest snaking out along his ribs.

It feels like he's been caught repeatedly at the wrong end of a sledgehammer, taking blow after blow until the wind was thoroughly beaten out of him and he'd forgotten how to breathe.

When he does finally remember to breathe, that first breath brings with it an inferno that sets his lungs ablaze and Emmett snaps his eyes open, half-expecting to find the flames of hell burning over him.

Instead of hellfire and damnation, he's greeted by the crisp autumn chill and the black of the night sky, tinged slightly white in the distance by the light from neighbouring cities.

Then, the soft sound of sobbing at his side.

Emmett bites back a pained groan and pushes his aching, protesting body up off the cold pavement until he's seated upright. An ache in his temple begins to make itself known, but he doesn't remember hitting his head in the fall, so he catalogues that as something to concern himself with later, when they're both back in their respective homes, well away from here.

Marty whips around, eyes wide, and he gawks like he's just seen a ghost—or, more appropriately, someone rise from the dead. The wheels turning behind Marty's red, puffy eyes are all-too visible, and before he even needed to guess at what his best friend was thinking, he blurts out, ❝You're alive!❞ hopeful and breathless, yet still with a tremble to his voice that suggests he almost can't believe what he's seeing.

An apology dies on Emmett's tongue as he rips open his suit to show the vest beneath, and he silently wishes he could have warned Marty before this; let him know of his change of heart, his willingness to play fast-and-loose this one time with his own rules, but the risk was too great.

For thirty years, he's turned that night around-and-around in his head. Emmett hasn't been able to shake the thought since the night on the town square, when Marty made it known that his father had exhibited behaviour previously uncharacteristic to him, and yet his existence had still been restored. The space-time continuum had not unravelled due to one single, perhaps minor change in the grand scheme of things, and when he thought about the desperation carved so deeply into Marty's face, his insistence upon telling him despite his wishes to the contrary—

He had already done so much for me.

This night was the catalyst for Marty's accidental displacement in the first place, and if he had changed the events leading up to that and prevented him from taking the DeLorean, there was no telling what paradoxes may ensue.

It would have saved him immeasurable stress and heartache, but the risks of unforeseen consequences that were even worse than what Marty had endured were not worth it.

Emmett blinks as the ache in his chest flares up again and nearly misses the way Marty pleads to know how, desperation creeping into his voice alongside the relief. As he reaches into his breast pocket, Marty sniffs and drags his sleeve across his eyes, and Emmett carefully pulls out a piece of paper worn and wrinkled and yellowed by time, covered in so much tape that it nearly shone under the parking lot lamps overhead.

Marty's face screws up in disbelief as he takes the paper with trembling fingers, his eyes beginning to shine with another wave of fresh tears as he reads the now thirty-year-old note that he had written not three hours ago.

❝Well, I figured—what the hell?❞

Marty chokes on another sob as he tries to laugh and Emmett grunts as the boy crashes into his aching chest, flinging his arm around him. ❝I was—God, Doc, I thought I'd never see you again, I thought—❞ He nods and returns the hug just as tightly, ignoring the pain to allow Marty to bury his face in his shoulder.

❝Believe me, Marty, for a second there I was afraid this bulletproof vest really hadn't worked. Those things pack one hell of a punch. But I've had thirty years since I read that letter to think about what I would say to you.❞

Waiting had been a long, torturous ordeal in which he often found himself worrying if he had really been on track to finish the time machine by this very date, October 26, 1985, or if, somehow, following rules he was not yet fully aware of, Marty's unforeseen appearance in the past had delayed that, thereby pushing everything off-course.

As the pang of loneliness grew over the years and even his complete dedication to the time machine couldn't fill the hole that his friend's absence left, he often found himself wondering about their meeting; he'd made Marty promise not to divulge any information as to the hows and whens. Knowing that they would someday meet was already far too much.

❝Do you remember what I told you back in 1955?❞ Marty's shoulders tremble as he nods and for the first time, Emmett notices the fire engulfing the destroyed Foto Fox kiosk and the overturned van caught in the blaze.

❝I meant it, when I said that everything would be fine. And I wanted to say thank you. For everything.❞ Marty mumbles something into his shoulder that Emmett doesn't quite catch and he pats the boy twice on the back.

He's loathe to cut this moment short, but they're running out of time.

❝Are you feeling alright to stand, Marty?❞ The irony of that sentence isn't lost on Emmett, considering the fact there were several rounds still caught in the Kevlar of his vest—a grim reminder of his own mortality—but he knows that, in spite of the pain, he'll be able to get himself up and about.

Marty has had a far more taxing several hours than he; the boy is probably running on adrenaline and fumes.

❝Yeah, yeah I'm—Jesus, Doc, I should be asking you that! You just got shot!❞ Marty suddenly pulls himself away, as if Emmett's skin had turned to fire. ❝Wait, wait, how are you feeling? Are you in pain? Is something broken? Shit, I wasn't even thinking wh—❞

Emmett holds up a hand before Marty can get carried away. ❝It's just a little soreness, it'll pass with some rest. Come on; we should pack up the equipment and get out of here. We'll load the DeLorean into—❞

He frowns; the car was nowhere in sight. ❝What happened to the DeLorean?❞

Marty hops up to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. ❝You remember last week when I took you out to see where I hid the DeLorean?❞ Emmett nods, pointedly leaving out the fact that, for him, this happened thirty years ago, but that week is still such a vivid memory even now he doubts he could ever forget it.

❝I mentioned there was something up with the starter and, well, it died again once I made the trip back. I didn't have time to try and get it started, I was—so I left it in the town square, about a block down from the theatre.❞

Emmett checks one of his watches for the time—01:54—and disguises a groan as a thoughtful hum as he gets himself to his feet, working out a plan. ❝The car should be fine while we get everything taken care of here. At this hour, it's unlikely that anybody will be driving through there what with everything closed, and if the car won't start, there's little chance of it being stolen.❞

Einstein barks from inside the van and looks off into the distance, mimicking his master's thoughts. ❝What worries me is the police arriving—somebody likely heard the gunshots and our presence here, especially with me looking like this❞—Emmett gestures to his bullet-riddled clothing, something Marty tries not to look at for too long—❝will raise more questions than I care to give them answers to. The police are already wary of me.❞

Marty nods and Emmett has the sneaking suspicion he doesn't need any further encouragement to get as far away from here as possible. ❝You got it, Doc. I'll, uh, help you grab some of your stuff.❞

❝Hop in the van when you're done. After we grab the DeLorean, I'll bring you home.❞

Marty takes off and as Emmett bends down to grab the case of plutonium, another wave of hot pain spreads across his chest, twisting his face up into an expression he's glad nobody's around to see in the moment. I bet if I was twenty years younger, this wouldn't be so bad.

He bites his lip for fear of worrying Marty, and hoists the box up, noting that it feels a good fifteen pounds heavier than he remembers it being about half an hour ago. He secures the box behind the driver's seat, checking the straps to ensure it doesn't get knocked around during transit.

The remote control is next, and as Emmett plucks it off the ground, Marty shouts, bounding over with something in his hands.

❝Hey Doc, what do you want to do with this?❞

It takes him a moment to realise that the slightly bent, charred object in Marty's hands is the DeLorean's licence plate and when he does, Emmett finds he can't help but smile.

OUTATIME.

Yes, they almost were.

❝Throw it in the van. We'll take it with us.❞

#jal;sdkfj red write less challenge: start #i do believe that doc and marty saved the original 'outatime' licence plate from that night tbh #when they collected all their stuff doc saved it as a memento of everything that happened and probably has it hanging up with all the stuff #in the lab #doctober 2023 #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」#i didn't get my hug in the film so i'm always going to get it in writing #criminal really that they denied us that when they both SO needed it

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