Back to the Future Fan-fiction

Chapter Twenty-Three || Time After Time

Doc grinned as he glanced upon the street. The street was filled with fire, smoke, and no sign of the DeLorean— exactly what was supposed to happen. Everything felt right, and although he felt slight concern for Marty and whatever he needed to say to him, that was in the back of his mind. Nothing could distract him now— he had a time machine he needed to make! Of course, Marty had then showed up the next morning, sending Doc unexpectedly into a shock, but the issue was resolved as Marty was sent back to 1885 to retrieve future Doc from his death. The past, current, and future would then all be resolved within a night, and Doc had nothing to worry about. Amazing.

But Marty going back to 1885— was that what the issue was in that letter? Doc wondered to himself, wondering why Marty was so desperate to speak to him last night. Well, no, it couldn't be— it had to be something greater, and more recent. He thought of the letter Marty had attempted to give to him the night prior, and remembered his exact words, that it was too dangerous to read about the natural course of his own fate. He still believed that, obviously, but what about the 'what if's'?

But Doc snapped himself back to reality. No, Emmett. You must remain focused on the current flow of events through time. He couldn't just read that letter and let his entire future change. The ripped up letter in his pocket taunted and teased him for it, but he would resist the urge. No one would change his future and ultimately disrupt the space-time continuum.

Or at least, so he thought.

—

Flash-forward to May of 1985

It was another hot, sweaty, and exhausting day underneath the DeLorean interiors. The car stood underneath him, shining in his brown eyes. Emmett wiped the sweat off his forehead with the palm of his hand, his wrench remaining in the other hand. He had just installed one of the most critical components on his car— the place to insert plutonium. He smiled to himself, feeling accomplished now that his 30 years of work were leading him to this.

He knew that now, all he needed was a little plutonium. But how?— he had an idea.

His mind faintly remembered the time in 1955 where he watched his current 1985 self explain the details of how the car transported. He needed 1.21 gigawatts, and the only way to score that was with plutonium. But his access to plutonium, was rather... interesting.

He felt wrong, and even a little frisky, taking his plan into action. But the only way his 1955 self had said his plans upon getting plutonium was with a sketchy deal with Libyan terrorists. He squinted his eyes to remember his precise words in the tapes on how he managed, and AHA! He had remembered that he had gone off and promised to build a bomb for Libyan terrorists in exchange for receiving some plutonium.

So of course, he followed through with his plan. Of course, the "bomb" he had given them was rather a case full of used pinball machine parts, but that doesn't matter as long as Doc had his hands on the vials of plutonium. If all were going according to plan, he would soon successfully have fuel and transportation in order to travel through time.

But there was still one aspect in his mind that kept Doc awake at night, and that he just couldn't forget. No matter how many times he ripped the letter Marty had handed him up into little pieces, or placed it in a different part of his house, he simply couldn't get rid of it; It felt so important. When he tore it up, he even went back the next day to retrieve it. Marty had seemed so passionate at the time to give it to him and warn Doc about something terrible happening this year. Doc, being his natural stubborn self, had refused to listen, but he still couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was off about the interaction and letter itself.

Then, there was also the tapes that Doc had once watched. He had barely remembered or recalled on what those tapes were, but he knew that it had involved some curiosity in his 1955 self. As he walked up to his television, he couldn't help but remember the countless amount of times young Emmett Brown had watched his first future trial run.