The Boy Beyond Time 2/?
Title: The Boy Beyond Time (Chapter 2)
Author: someidiot (Writing Journal taihennamono)
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, Marty McFly, Doc Brown
Genre: Gen / Adventure
Spoilers/Setting: After The Doctor's Wife for DW, post-Back to the Future: The Game from Telltale.
Chapter Word Count: ~4,000
Story Word Count: ~7,000 so far
Story Summary: The Doctor, Amy, and Rory investigate Hill Valley, a place where time is twisted, stretched, and warped around the life of Marty McFly, a boy who remembers things that never happened. Now, the Doctor and his companions must unravel both the tangle and the mysteries of Marty's lifetime before time runs out on both him and the Universe.
Previous Chapters: 1
Alternate Links: Fanfiction.net
Chapter 2: Kindred Spirits
-
MAY, 1977
-
Hill Valley was a small town, with most of its economy driven by the local university, and at the town's heart was a tall courthouse and a small, grassy area across the street from its steps. Most of the main shops and businesses were centered around this mini-park, and as such it was the center of activity - and the Doctor's investigation.
It was a warm, clear spring day. There was notable hustle and bustle as the citizens went about their daily business, and no one paid much heed to the British tourists or the strange little blue phone booth that came with them, and the passer-bys certainly didn't notice these three strangers circling the Courthouse Square for over twenty minutes, wandering seemingly aimlessly.
The Doctor strolled in his clockwise course, stepping close to shops, peeking in windows, sniffing the air and testing the wind, with his companions following a few paces behind. Rory watched the Doctor warily as they pressed on before his stomach finally grumbled, and he spoke up on its behalf.
“Doctor,” he said hesitantly, “what are you doing, exactly?”
“Looking,” he replied absently. “Trying to figure out where these... twists in time are coming from. The ripples are radiating from a central point, but I can't find it.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “It keeps moving.”
Rory and Amy exchanged glances, and he added, “You're... looking at time?”
The Doctor turned then, casting a side glance at Rory. “Well, not looking. It's not sight.” He tapped his own chest. “Different species, different biology, so logically I'd have different senses.” He shrugged, then added, “I mean, I've got all the basics, too, of course - sight, sound, dignity, smell, humor, taste, touch, fashion--”
“Fashion?” Rory echoed.
Amy quirked an eyebrow. “Not so sure about that one,” she said dryly, tugging at the collar of her blouse.
“Oh... shut up,” the Doctor said with a playful scowl. “Bow ties are cool.” He turned away before she could reply, and continued his explanation. “Anyway, we Time Lords have a... twelfth sense about this sort of thing.
“So maybe we could help? What if you hooked us up with some Time Goggles?” Rory said, miming some binoculars over his eyes.
“Or maybe some kind of... time-sensing meditation technique?” Amy added thoughtfully.
“Oh, no,” the Doctor said with a shake of his head. “Humans aren't wired to handle that kind of perception. If either of you, or any other human, were given Time Lord perception, you'd go mad and burn your mind from the inside ou--”
He stopped suddenly and his head snapped to the left, staring down a side street a moment before turning on his heel to follow his gaze down the street at a brisk pace. Amy and Rory followed a few strides behind. The side street was small, with narrow lanes. Small, skinny offices, stores and apartments were crammed close to the sidewalk. The Doctor expertly dodged the light current of townspeople on the sidewalk without breaking a stride before he finally came to a quick stop.
“Doctor?” Amy peered over his arm and tried to see above the crowd as well. His steely gaze was fixed forward and she tried to see what he was looking at. She glanced at him, then followed his gaze to a building at the end of the block as a mother and son stepped out of the front door and down the steps onto the sidewalk. The Doctor reached in his pocket and pulled out some cash.
“The diner near that clock tower,” he said quietly, handing the money to Amy. “You and Rory go get something to eat. I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes.”
“That's your Serious Face,” Amy noted as she took the cash and pocketed it. “What's going on? Do you need our help?”
“I might later,” the Doctor said quietly. “Just go.”
Amy frowned but nodded and stepped back, leading her husband away as the Doctor strode forward confidently, fishing his psychic paper out of his pocket. He approached the woman and her son with a bounce in his step and a million dollar smile. He glanced at the office sign on the way over - a doctor's office of some kind.
“Good afternoon, madam!” he called, holding up his psychic paper for her to inspect. “My name is Doctor John Smith, and I'm here doing a short survey regarding the quality of health care for American youth.”
The woman gazed at him from under the wide brim of her hat, and it was then he noticed how she was dressed. Despite the warm weather she had a long, pink winter coat with a high collar, though it didn't hide her many curls of brown hair. From her gait and the way she had been ushering her son out the door, he could tell she didn't want to be recognized. The Doctor glanced at the sign on the building, inspecting it a little more closely - it wasn't just any doctor's offic. This was a psychiatric clinic.
“I'm sorry,” she said quickly, placing her hands firmly on her son's shoulders and starting down the sidewalk, “we're not interested. Come on, sweetheart, let's get going.”
“Ah, hold on,” the Doctor said quickly, walking astride her, “you misunderstand! The results of this survey could impact the lives of sick children like your son all over the world--”
She froze and whirled to face him. “My son is not sick,” she snapped, “and I don't need the whole world knowing my family's business, thank you.” She picked up the pace again, hands on her son's back, leading him down the street and presumably toward their car.
“I assure you,” the Doctor stepped in their path, holding his hands up, “the results will be completely anonymous, and children everywhere will benefit from the...”
She steered her son around him as he spoke, and the Doctor gritted his teeth in frustration as she walked away. As he tried to think up another argument she cried out, and her son wrenched himself from her grip and darted back toward him.
“Hi,” her son said, offering his hand in greeting. He was a short, baby-faced little child with a mess of brown hair and bright, blue eyes. “I want to help!”
The Doctor grinned and shook his hand. “How nice to such an eager volunteer! I'm the Doctor.”
The boy grinned, revealing he'd recently lost a tooth. “I'm Martin McFly!”
“A pleasure to meet you, Martin!” The Doctor gave his hand another firm shake.
“Young man,” Martin's mother snapped, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from the Doctor. “What have I told you about talking to strangers?”
Martin turned to face his mother, frowning. “You said it was okay if you're here!” He pointed back to the Doctor. “Besides, he's not a stranger, he said he's Doctor Smith! Right?”
“It's okay only if I or your father say it's okay.” She leaned down and looked him straight in the eye, scowling. “Remember the story of Little Red Riding Hood?” Her voice lowered to a soft, nigh-inaudible whisper, but the Doctor could still hear her despite her effort. She smoothed Martin's hair out of his eyes and and added, “she talked to a wolf she didn't know, and he turned out to be a Big Bad Wolf that gobbled her-”
“Mom, I'm nine,” Martin said dryly, “you don't have to talk to me like I'm a baby. He just wants to ask some questions!”
“You'll understand someday. Come on, Martin.” She stood up an took his arm firmly, dragging him down the sidewalk. Martin dug his feet but only succeeded in falling over, and caught himself to keep up with her stride. He took one last, sad-eyed look at the Doctor as he walked, who waved at him as he watched them disappear around the corner of the block.
The Doctor watched the corner for a moment after they disappeared, then shook his head in dismay. He glanced at the psychiatrist's office once more before turning on his heel and heading back for the diner.
“Funny thing,” he muttered to himself, expression solemn, “that she should mention a Bad Wolf...”
- - -
Rory saw the Doctor outside the diner through the window before he even entered, and greeted him with a wave as he stepped through the doors. “Doctor! You're early!”
The Doctor glanced at them and grinned. “I am, aren't I?” He said as he strolled over to their booth, sitting down next to Rory. “Congratulations, you two!”
“Congratulations?” Amy glanced at Rory, who shrugged. She looked back to the Doctor warily. “Uh, you know, Doctor, our wedding was... a while ago.”
“Your wedding isn't for another thirty years,” the Doctor said with a chuckle, grabbing one of Rory's chips from his basket. “No, no, it's not that at all.” He dipped the chip in Rory's chocolate milkshake before popping it in his mouth. “I mean congratulations on the new jobs you're both getting today!”
He was met with another blank stare from them both.
- - -
SEPTEMBER, 1986
- - -
In the days after coming home from 1885, Marty had thought the hardest part about Time Travel was coming home from a grand, history-changing adventure to a reality you no longer recognized. The initial shock had been bad enough - after fixing the damage he'd done to his parents' love life in 1955 and successfully guaranteeing their marriage and, by extension, his own conception, he'd arrived home in the middle of the night and fallen asleep instantly - and waking up to a life that was no longer his own.
His father, previously a meek, bottom-rung office worker, was a successful, confident published author and his overweight, alcoholic mother had become thin, trim, and no longer dependent on the bottle. His siblings, too, had literally become mirror images of their former selves. And suddenly, his family was upper-middle class and always had been.
He hadn't had time to mull it over, because not even an a day into this new reality had passed before fate dropped him in 2015, back to 1955, and then to round off his adventures he landed back in 1885 without getting a moment to relax and de-stress in between. Marty McFly had learned a lesson in self-esteem, named a canyon, saved a woman destined to die and watched his best friend fly away in a time-traveling train for God knows how long.
And then he came home to a family he didn't know.
Superficial details were the same. His parents and siblings had the same names and faces, his house was the same address in Lyon Estates, and he could still shred an axe like nobody's business. His girlfriend was still Jennifer Parker, and even though her face had changed, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. His circle of friends was mostly the same, but they treated him differently - the hierarchy had been shifted oh so slightly, because now suddenly he was and had always been the well-off friend from a stable home, a role he had no idea how to play. He no longer got their inside jokes, and didn't understand references to old childhood antics his “old self” had never participated in.
He was a stranger in this mirror world that looked so much like his own.
Still, that wasn't even the worst part about Time Travel. That came a few weeks later, when he realized he didn't have as much of a problem with the altered reality as he used to. At first he thought he was just growing accustomed to his new life until he realized with horror that he was changing to match his new surroundings - the old Marty who had initially gone back in time was fading away to be replaced by a look-alike with more money and more attitude. Had he always been so cocky and overconfident? Had he always had such an overblown reaction to being called a chicken? Was the phrase “cork bottle” always a funny inside joke? Marty now had two conflicting sets of memories, and at times he couldn't remember which one applied to the here and now, and which one was only the shadow of a boy who had never existed.
The memories of “old” Marty never faded, but over the following seven months Marty had sort of learned to tell the difference between his old life and his new one, to distinguish between what was lost forever and what was now, and now had always been, who he was. He wasn't always successful, but he was getting better.
Just when he'd thought it was over, a whole new time travel adventure involving multiple trips to 1931 had left Marty with a whole new - but overall better - change in his life: In a previous timeline, his close friend Doc Brown had disappeared in his time machine, presumably to spend the rest of his days having adventures with his family. Now, in reality's latest update, Doc, Clara and their boys retained part-time residence in the Brown home in present-day Hill Valley. Marty's close friend, whom he'd thought had been lost forever, was now just a phone call (or a short drive) away. And by God, did he ever need someone to talk to about time travel.
From what Doc had told him, the Browns had become a second family to him - in fact, Doc had been heartbroken when he'd discovered this timeline was new and that Marty didn't remember it. Still, Marty had assured him the memories would come to him with time, and indeed they did begin to trickle back in the summer months leading up to University. He soon “resumed” his position as the favorite babysitter of Jules and Verne Brown, and “continued” to sit down to dinner with the Browns once a week. He even kept helping Doc out with his experiments in his free time, for old times' sake - it seemed like the only thing he had left of his old, pre-time travel life.
Perhaps it was for the best that Marty's time travel adventures had taken place during his senior year of high school. It was a time full of nothing but change, and his sudden feeling of alienation among his peers and friends could be blamed on something simple like growing up and growing apart instead of his conflicting, inaccurate memories and emotional turmoil.
Still, Hill Valley was a small town, and everybody who lived there knew everybody else and saw each other every day. Of Marty's classmates who chose to move on to college, a sizable chunk of them chose the local University - close, convenient, and still inside the town's tight-knit social bubble. So even at college, the beginning of his “adult” life, he was haunted by the high school whispers about how weird he'd gotten, how he didn't hang out with his old friends anymore, and what a stuck-up asshole he'd become. He didn't want that reputation - he'd tried to avoid it - but he just couldn't... hold a conversation with his old friends anymore. It was a miracle he was still with Jennifer, and probably only because she'd had a brief trip through time, herself. She understood - just barely.
Which is why Marty was grateful for people like Rory Williams in his life. Awkward, quiet Rory who didn't get caught up in Marty's old social circles. Foreign student Rory who had no connection to his childhood whatsoever. Friendly, amiable Rory who was easy to live with and easy to relate to. He was a fresh start, proof that there was still something more out there, outside the hometown life he'd never recover. It was amazing how much hope for the future that small reminder gave Marty.
In that first week they'd lived together at school, they'd just clicked. They could bullshit for hours talking about school or life or anything that crossed their minds at the time. Considering Marty's own personal interests, it didn't take more than a day for him to ask Rory about music.
“Do you play?”
Marty was referring to his guitar, of course - the other thing that had had kept him sane these past few months, when he couldn't talk to Doc or Jennifer. He could lose himself in the music, let his hands take over for his brain for a while.
Rory looked a little sheepish when he asked. “Sort of,” he finally said.
“Sort of?” Marty smirked and quirked an eyebrow, taking the guitar from his shoulder and handing it to his room mate. “Come on, yes or no?”
He took the guitar from Marty and strapped it on, running his fingers down the neck, clearly trying to get a feel for the frets. “I learned to play guitar when I was younger,” he started, taking the pick in hand and plucking out a scale on each string - Marty cringed at the stiff handling. “I told my girlfriend... okay, well, she wasn't my girlfriend then, but you know, I told her I was in a band. Then she called my bluff..”
Marty snorted and buried his face in his palm. “That kind of guitar playing, huh?”
“Yeah,” Rory laughed, playing the scale again, a little more smoothly this time. “So yeah, I can play a song or two - well, once I remember how - but for the most part I'm rubbish at it.”
“Well, you got your girlfriend now, right?” Marty said, raising his eyebrows. “
“Heh,” Rory gave a sly grin. “She's my wife now, mate.”
Marty's jaw dropped. “You're kidding!”
“Nope, I'm serious.”
“You're a college freshman, and you're married?”
An odd look crossed Rory's face then, uncertainty, doubt, something like that - but only for a moment. It was quickly replaced with a confident smile. “I love her,” he said wistfully, a distant look in his eyes. “I have, ever since I was a child. And I spent my whole life terrified that she'd just... disappear. Find someone more interesting, more exotic than boring old Rory Williams.” He sighed. “If I ever broke off the engagement like that, or let it go too long... I wouldn't get a second chance.”
Marty mulled that over in his mind. He loved Jennifer - he couldn't imagine his life without her, and the thought of losing her terrified him, especially now that she was one of the few local friends he had left. With that in mind, he couldn't imagine marrying her now, of all times - he wanted to make something of himself fist, be able to provide the sort of life he thought she deserved.
“I couldn't do it, man.”
“You don't have to.” Rory shrugged. “It's what I wanted.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Every second we're apart,” Rory said solemnly.
Marty winced, then glanced to the side. Maybe he'd better change the subject. “So, uh,” he said quickly, “about the guitar. Maybe I could teach you.” He stepped forward and adjusted Rory's wrists a bit, taking away that awkward wrist-bend most amateurs do because they see the pros do it. “I mean, you already know the basics. And you could practice on mine.”
Rory's eyes lit up. “You'd do that?”
“Sure.” Marty grinned. “A little something to surprise your wife when you get home. Remind her just why she married Rory Williams.” Not to mention, Marty thought, if Rory got his own guitar, it'd be nice to have someone to jam with again.
As he started planning the lesson and began giving Rory some tips, he found himself idly wondering just what kind of person Rory's wife was.
Maybe he'd get to meet her someday.
- - -
MAY, 1977
- - -
Amy put on her warmest smile as the door opened, and she greeted the well-dressed woman who answered.
“Hello, Mrs. McFly?”
The woman smiled, sighing. “Thank goodness. Right on time. Please, come in, Mrs. Pond!”
Amy stepped inside, admiring the small but well-furnished home. “You have a lovely house,” she said automatically. Not that she didn't mean it - she just wasn't one for small talk.
“Yes, thank you,” Mrs. McFly said absently, calling down the hallway as she put on her earrings. “George, the sitter is here!”
“Just a second, Lorraine,” George called back.
Lorraine turned back to Amy. “Thank you so much for doing this on such short notice. I didn't even know Shannon was old enough to play the lottery, let alone win it.”
Amy shrugged. “Lucky, yeah?”
“Now, let me show you the emergency numbers. Please, don't hesitate to call the restaurant if you have any trouble...”
Lorraine showed Amy around the house, offered everything in the cupboard and fridge, and finally introduced her three children - David, Linda, and of course, little Martin.
When George and Lorraine finally kissed and hugged their children goodbye and finally left for dinner, David told Amy in no uncertain terms that he was far too old for a babysitter.
“Guess that means you're too old to cause trouble, too, yeah?” Amy smiled through her gritted teeth. “If you behave yourself, I won't boss you around. Deal?”
David narrowed his eyes. “You talk funny. Are you from Canada?”
“Excuse me?” She sputtered, shaking her head. “I'm from Scotland!”
“Whatever.” David stomped down the hall. “You're only here to look after Martin, anyway. I'm gonna be in my room.”
Bewildered, Amy watched him stomp away, then turned to Martin. “Now why would he say something like that?”
“It's 'cause Martin's crazy,” Linda said with a shrug.
She glared at Linda. “Now, that's not a nice thing to say about your brother.”
“It's okay,” Martin piped, remarkably cheerful considering the conversation. “She's right. Mom takes me to the doctor for it and everything.”
Amy turned and gazed at him for a moment. The Doctor had said that Martin was the source of the time anomalies, somehow - though he wasn't sure if Martin was causing them, or if they simply used him as a focal point. Amy's job for tonight, besides watching the children, was to just... talk to Martin, and figure out what his life was like, and why he was seeing a psychiatrist. From there, the Doctor figured, he could get more perspective on what, exactly, he was dealing with.
She was beginning to see why the Doctor had chosen her for this assignment. She had twenty-two years of personal experience wrapped up in a supernatural time-related mystery and had seen her share of therapists for the “crazy stories” she would tell as a result; Stories that, twelve years later, she learned were anything but imaginary. If anyone could talk to Martin, it was her.
“Linda, go watch the telly.”
Linda blinked. “The what?”
“The Telly. The Television.” She waved Linda away and gently took Martin's hand, leading him to the kitchen. “Come on, Martin. Let's talk in here for a little while.”
Author: someidiot (Writing Journal taihennamono)
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, Marty McFly, Doc Brown
Genre: Gen / Adventure
Spoilers/Setting: After The Doctor's Wife for DW, post-Back to the Future: The Game from Telltale.
Chapter Word Count: ~4,000
Story Word Count: ~7,000 so far
Story Summary: The Doctor, Amy, and Rory investigate Hill Valley, a place where time is twisted, stretched, and warped around the life of Marty McFly, a boy who remembers things that never happened. Now, the Doctor and his companions must unravel both the tangle and the mysteries of Marty's lifetime before time runs out on both him and the Universe.
Previous Chapters: 1
Alternate Links: Fanfiction.net
Chapter 2: Kindred Spirits
-
MAY, 1977
-
Hill Valley was a small town, with most of its economy driven by the local university, and at the town's heart was a tall courthouse and a small, grassy area across the street from its steps. Most of the main shops and businesses were centered around this mini-park, and as such it was the center of activity - and the Doctor's investigation.
It was a warm, clear spring day. There was notable hustle and bustle as the citizens went about their daily business, and no one paid much heed to the British tourists or the strange little blue phone booth that came with them, and the passer-bys certainly didn't notice these three strangers circling the Courthouse Square for over twenty minutes, wandering seemingly aimlessly.
The Doctor strolled in his clockwise course, stepping close to shops, peeking in windows, sniffing the air and testing the wind, with his companions following a few paces behind. Rory watched the Doctor warily as they pressed on before his stomach finally grumbled, and he spoke up on its behalf.
“Doctor,” he said hesitantly, “what are you doing, exactly?”
“Looking,” he replied absently. “Trying to figure out where these... twists in time are coming from. The ripples are radiating from a central point, but I can't find it.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “It keeps moving.”
Rory and Amy exchanged glances, and he added, “You're... looking at time?”
The Doctor turned then, casting a side glance at Rory. “Well, not looking. It's not sight.” He tapped his own chest. “Different species, different biology, so logically I'd have different senses.” He shrugged, then added, “I mean, I've got all the basics, too, of course - sight, sound, dignity, smell, humor, taste, touch, fashion--”
“Fashion?” Rory echoed.
Amy quirked an eyebrow. “Not so sure about that one,” she said dryly, tugging at the collar of her blouse.
“Oh... shut up,” the Doctor said with a playful scowl. “Bow ties are cool.” He turned away before she could reply, and continued his explanation. “Anyway, we Time Lords have a... twelfth sense about this sort of thing.
“So maybe we could help? What if you hooked us up with some Time Goggles?” Rory said, miming some binoculars over his eyes.
“Or maybe some kind of... time-sensing meditation technique?” Amy added thoughtfully.
“Oh, no,” the Doctor said with a shake of his head. “Humans aren't wired to handle that kind of perception. If either of you, or any other human, were given Time Lord perception, you'd go mad and burn your mind from the inside ou--”
He stopped suddenly and his head snapped to the left, staring down a side street a moment before turning on his heel to follow his gaze down the street at a brisk pace. Amy and Rory followed a few strides behind. The side street was small, with narrow lanes. Small, skinny offices, stores and apartments were crammed close to the sidewalk. The Doctor expertly dodged the light current of townspeople on the sidewalk without breaking a stride before he finally came to a quick stop.
“Doctor?” Amy peered over his arm and tried to see above the crowd as well. His steely gaze was fixed forward and she tried to see what he was looking at. She glanced at him, then followed his gaze to a building at the end of the block as a mother and son stepped out of the front door and down the steps onto the sidewalk. The Doctor reached in his pocket and pulled out some cash.
“The diner near that clock tower,” he said quietly, handing the money to Amy. “You and Rory go get something to eat. I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes.”
“That's your Serious Face,” Amy noted as she took the cash and pocketed it. “What's going on? Do you need our help?”
“I might later,” the Doctor said quietly. “Just go.”
Amy frowned but nodded and stepped back, leading her husband away as the Doctor strode forward confidently, fishing his psychic paper out of his pocket. He approached the woman and her son with a bounce in his step and a million dollar smile. He glanced at the office sign on the way over - a doctor's office of some kind.
“Good afternoon, madam!” he called, holding up his psychic paper for her to inspect. “My name is Doctor John Smith, and I'm here doing a short survey regarding the quality of health care for American youth.”
The woman gazed at him from under the wide brim of her hat, and it was then he noticed how she was dressed. Despite the warm weather she had a long, pink winter coat with a high collar, though it didn't hide her many curls of brown hair. From her gait and the way she had been ushering her son out the door, he could tell she didn't want to be recognized. The Doctor glanced at the sign on the building, inspecting it a little more closely - it wasn't just any doctor's offic. This was a psychiatric clinic.
“I'm sorry,” she said quickly, placing her hands firmly on her son's shoulders and starting down the sidewalk, “we're not interested. Come on, sweetheart, let's get going.”
“Ah, hold on,” the Doctor said quickly, walking astride her, “you misunderstand! The results of this survey could impact the lives of sick children like your son all over the world--”
She froze and whirled to face him. “My son is not sick,” she snapped, “and I don't need the whole world knowing my family's business, thank you.” She picked up the pace again, hands on her son's back, leading him down the street and presumably toward their car.
“I assure you,” the Doctor stepped in their path, holding his hands up, “the results will be completely anonymous, and children everywhere will benefit from the...”
She steered her son around him as he spoke, and the Doctor gritted his teeth in frustration as she walked away. As he tried to think up another argument she cried out, and her son wrenched himself from her grip and darted back toward him.
“Hi,” her son said, offering his hand in greeting. He was a short, baby-faced little child with a mess of brown hair and bright, blue eyes. “I want to help!”
The Doctor grinned and shook his hand. “How nice to such an eager volunteer! I'm the Doctor.”
The boy grinned, revealing he'd recently lost a tooth. “I'm Martin McFly!”
“A pleasure to meet you, Martin!” The Doctor gave his hand another firm shake.
“Young man,” Martin's mother snapped, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from the Doctor. “What have I told you about talking to strangers?”
Martin turned to face his mother, frowning. “You said it was okay if you're here!” He pointed back to the Doctor. “Besides, he's not a stranger, he said he's Doctor Smith! Right?”
“It's okay only if I or your father say it's okay.” She leaned down and looked him straight in the eye, scowling. “Remember the story of Little Red Riding Hood?” Her voice lowered to a soft, nigh-inaudible whisper, but the Doctor could still hear her despite her effort. She smoothed Martin's hair out of his eyes and and added, “she talked to a wolf she didn't know, and he turned out to be a Big Bad Wolf that gobbled her-”
“Mom, I'm nine,” Martin said dryly, “you don't have to talk to me like I'm a baby. He just wants to ask some questions!”
“You'll understand someday. Come on, Martin.” She stood up an took his arm firmly, dragging him down the sidewalk. Martin dug his feet but only succeeded in falling over, and caught himself to keep up with her stride. He took one last, sad-eyed look at the Doctor as he walked, who waved at him as he watched them disappear around the corner of the block.
The Doctor watched the corner for a moment after they disappeared, then shook his head in dismay. He glanced at the psychiatrist's office once more before turning on his heel and heading back for the diner.
“Funny thing,” he muttered to himself, expression solemn, “that she should mention a Bad Wolf...”
- - -
Rory saw the Doctor outside the diner through the window before he even entered, and greeted him with a wave as he stepped through the doors. “Doctor! You're early!”
The Doctor glanced at them and grinned. “I am, aren't I?” He said as he strolled over to their booth, sitting down next to Rory. “Congratulations, you two!”
“Congratulations?” Amy glanced at Rory, who shrugged. She looked back to the Doctor warily. “Uh, you know, Doctor, our wedding was... a while ago.”
“Your wedding isn't for another thirty years,” the Doctor said with a chuckle, grabbing one of Rory's chips from his basket. “No, no, it's not that at all.” He dipped the chip in Rory's chocolate milkshake before popping it in his mouth. “I mean congratulations on the new jobs you're both getting today!”
He was met with another blank stare from them both.
- - -
SEPTEMBER, 1986
- - -
In the days after coming home from 1885, Marty had thought the hardest part about Time Travel was coming home from a grand, history-changing adventure to a reality you no longer recognized. The initial shock had been bad enough - after fixing the damage he'd done to his parents' love life in 1955 and successfully guaranteeing their marriage and, by extension, his own conception, he'd arrived home in the middle of the night and fallen asleep instantly - and waking up to a life that was no longer his own.
His father, previously a meek, bottom-rung office worker, was a successful, confident published author and his overweight, alcoholic mother had become thin, trim, and no longer dependent on the bottle. His siblings, too, had literally become mirror images of their former selves. And suddenly, his family was upper-middle class and always had been.
He hadn't had time to mull it over, because not even an a day into this new reality had passed before fate dropped him in 2015, back to 1955, and then to round off his adventures he landed back in 1885 without getting a moment to relax and de-stress in between. Marty McFly had learned a lesson in self-esteem, named a canyon, saved a woman destined to die and watched his best friend fly away in a time-traveling train for God knows how long.
And then he came home to a family he didn't know.
Superficial details were the same. His parents and siblings had the same names and faces, his house was the same address in Lyon Estates, and he could still shred an axe like nobody's business. His girlfriend was still Jennifer Parker, and even though her face had changed, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. His circle of friends was mostly the same, but they treated him differently - the hierarchy had been shifted oh so slightly, because now suddenly he was and had always been the well-off friend from a stable home, a role he had no idea how to play. He no longer got their inside jokes, and didn't understand references to old childhood antics his “old self” had never participated in.
He was a stranger in this mirror world that looked so much like his own.
Still, that wasn't even the worst part about Time Travel. That came a few weeks later, when he realized he didn't have as much of a problem with the altered reality as he used to. At first he thought he was just growing accustomed to his new life until he realized with horror that he was changing to match his new surroundings - the old Marty who had initially gone back in time was fading away to be replaced by a look-alike with more money and more attitude. Had he always been so cocky and overconfident? Had he always had such an overblown reaction to being called a chicken? Was the phrase “cork bottle” always a funny inside joke? Marty now had two conflicting sets of memories, and at times he couldn't remember which one applied to the here and now, and which one was only the shadow of a boy who had never existed.
The memories of “old” Marty never faded, but over the following seven months Marty had sort of learned to tell the difference between his old life and his new one, to distinguish between what was lost forever and what was now, and now had always been, who he was. He wasn't always successful, but he was getting better.
Just when he'd thought it was over, a whole new time travel adventure involving multiple trips to 1931 had left Marty with a whole new - but overall better - change in his life: In a previous timeline, his close friend Doc Brown had disappeared in his time machine, presumably to spend the rest of his days having adventures with his family. Now, in reality's latest update, Doc, Clara and their boys retained part-time residence in the Brown home in present-day Hill Valley. Marty's close friend, whom he'd thought had been lost forever, was now just a phone call (or a short drive) away. And by God, did he ever need someone to talk to about time travel.
From what Doc had told him, the Browns had become a second family to him - in fact, Doc had been heartbroken when he'd discovered this timeline was new and that Marty didn't remember it. Still, Marty had assured him the memories would come to him with time, and indeed they did begin to trickle back in the summer months leading up to University. He soon “resumed” his position as the favorite babysitter of Jules and Verne Brown, and “continued” to sit down to dinner with the Browns once a week. He even kept helping Doc out with his experiments in his free time, for old times' sake - it seemed like the only thing he had left of his old, pre-time travel life.
Perhaps it was for the best that Marty's time travel adventures had taken place during his senior year of high school. It was a time full of nothing but change, and his sudden feeling of alienation among his peers and friends could be blamed on something simple like growing up and growing apart instead of his conflicting, inaccurate memories and emotional turmoil.
Still, Hill Valley was a small town, and everybody who lived there knew everybody else and saw each other every day. Of Marty's classmates who chose to move on to college, a sizable chunk of them chose the local University - close, convenient, and still inside the town's tight-knit social bubble. So even at college, the beginning of his “adult” life, he was haunted by the high school whispers about how weird he'd gotten, how he didn't hang out with his old friends anymore, and what a stuck-up asshole he'd become. He didn't want that reputation - he'd tried to avoid it - but he just couldn't... hold a conversation with his old friends anymore. It was a miracle he was still with Jennifer, and probably only because she'd had a brief trip through time, herself. She understood - just barely.
Which is why Marty was grateful for people like Rory Williams in his life. Awkward, quiet Rory who didn't get caught up in Marty's old social circles. Foreign student Rory who had no connection to his childhood whatsoever. Friendly, amiable Rory who was easy to live with and easy to relate to. He was a fresh start, proof that there was still something more out there, outside the hometown life he'd never recover. It was amazing how much hope for the future that small reminder gave Marty.
In that first week they'd lived together at school, they'd just clicked. They could bullshit for hours talking about school or life or anything that crossed their minds at the time. Considering Marty's own personal interests, it didn't take more than a day for him to ask Rory about music.
“Do you play?”
Marty was referring to his guitar, of course - the other thing that had had kept him sane these past few months, when he couldn't talk to Doc or Jennifer. He could lose himself in the music, let his hands take over for his brain for a while.
Rory looked a little sheepish when he asked. “Sort of,” he finally said.
“Sort of?” Marty smirked and quirked an eyebrow, taking the guitar from his shoulder and handing it to his room mate. “Come on, yes or no?”
He took the guitar from Marty and strapped it on, running his fingers down the neck, clearly trying to get a feel for the frets. “I learned to play guitar when I was younger,” he started, taking the pick in hand and plucking out a scale on each string - Marty cringed at the stiff handling. “I told my girlfriend... okay, well, she wasn't my girlfriend then, but you know, I told her I was in a band. Then she called my bluff..”
Marty snorted and buried his face in his palm. “That kind of guitar playing, huh?”
“Yeah,” Rory laughed, playing the scale again, a little more smoothly this time. “So yeah, I can play a song or two - well, once I remember how - but for the most part I'm rubbish at it.”
“Well, you got your girlfriend now, right?” Marty said, raising his eyebrows. “
“Heh,” Rory gave a sly grin. “She's my wife now, mate.”
Marty's jaw dropped. “You're kidding!”
“Nope, I'm serious.”
“You're a college freshman, and you're married?”
An odd look crossed Rory's face then, uncertainty, doubt, something like that - but only for a moment. It was quickly replaced with a confident smile. “I love her,” he said wistfully, a distant look in his eyes. “I have, ever since I was a child. And I spent my whole life terrified that she'd just... disappear. Find someone more interesting, more exotic than boring old Rory Williams.” He sighed. “If I ever broke off the engagement like that, or let it go too long... I wouldn't get a second chance.”
Marty mulled that over in his mind. He loved Jennifer - he couldn't imagine his life without her, and the thought of losing her terrified him, especially now that she was one of the few local friends he had left. With that in mind, he couldn't imagine marrying her now, of all times - he wanted to make something of himself fist, be able to provide the sort of life he thought she deserved.
“I couldn't do it, man.”
“You don't have to.” Rory shrugged. “It's what I wanted.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Every second we're apart,” Rory said solemnly.
Marty winced, then glanced to the side. Maybe he'd better change the subject. “So, uh,” he said quickly, “about the guitar. Maybe I could teach you.” He stepped forward and adjusted Rory's wrists a bit, taking away that awkward wrist-bend most amateurs do because they see the pros do it. “I mean, you already know the basics. And you could practice on mine.”
Rory's eyes lit up. “You'd do that?”
“Sure.” Marty grinned. “A little something to surprise your wife when you get home. Remind her just why she married Rory Williams.” Not to mention, Marty thought, if Rory got his own guitar, it'd be nice to have someone to jam with again.
As he started planning the lesson and began giving Rory some tips, he found himself idly wondering just what kind of person Rory's wife was.
Maybe he'd get to meet her someday.
- - -
MAY, 1977
- - -
Amy put on her warmest smile as the door opened, and she greeted the well-dressed woman who answered.
“Hello, Mrs. McFly?”
The woman smiled, sighing. “Thank goodness. Right on time. Please, come in, Mrs. Pond!”
Amy stepped inside, admiring the small but well-furnished home. “You have a lovely house,” she said automatically. Not that she didn't mean it - she just wasn't one for small talk.
“Yes, thank you,” Mrs. McFly said absently, calling down the hallway as she put on her earrings. “George, the sitter is here!”
“Just a second, Lorraine,” George called back.
Lorraine turned back to Amy. “Thank you so much for doing this on such short notice. I didn't even know Shannon was old enough to play the lottery, let alone win it.”
Amy shrugged. “Lucky, yeah?”
“Now, let me show you the emergency numbers. Please, don't hesitate to call the restaurant if you have any trouble...”
Lorraine showed Amy around the house, offered everything in the cupboard and fridge, and finally introduced her three children - David, Linda, and of course, little Martin.
When George and Lorraine finally kissed and hugged their children goodbye and finally left for dinner, David told Amy in no uncertain terms that he was far too old for a babysitter.
“Guess that means you're too old to cause trouble, too, yeah?” Amy smiled through her gritted teeth. “If you behave yourself, I won't boss you around. Deal?”
David narrowed his eyes. “You talk funny. Are you from Canada?”
“Excuse me?” She sputtered, shaking her head. “I'm from Scotland!”
“Whatever.” David stomped down the hall. “You're only here to look after Martin, anyway. I'm gonna be in my room.”
Bewildered, Amy watched him stomp away, then turned to Martin. “Now why would he say something like that?”
“It's 'cause Martin's crazy,” Linda said with a shrug.
She glared at Linda. “Now, that's not a nice thing to say about your brother.”
“It's okay,” Martin piped, remarkably cheerful considering the conversation. “She's right. Mom takes me to the doctor for it and everything.”
Amy turned and gazed at him for a moment. The Doctor had said that Martin was the source of the time anomalies, somehow - though he wasn't sure if Martin was causing them, or if they simply used him as a focal point. Amy's job for tonight, besides watching the children, was to just... talk to Martin, and figure out what his life was like, and why he was seeing a psychiatrist. From there, the Doctor figured, he could get more perspective on what, exactly, he was dealing with.
She was beginning to see why the Doctor had chosen her for this assignment. She had twenty-two years of personal experience wrapped up in a supernatural time-related mystery and had seen her share of therapists for the “crazy stories” she would tell as a result; Stories that, twelve years later, she learned were anything but imaginary. If anyone could talk to Martin, it was her.
“Linda, go watch the telly.”
Linda blinked. “The what?”
“The Telly. The Television.” She waved Linda away and gently took Martin's hand, leading him to the kitchen. “Come on, Martin. Let's talk in here for a little while.”