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doctorbrown · 8 months

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DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 20 / 31 * REAR-VIEW MIRROR 」

June 12, 2025

23:11

❝Are you sure you can't spend the night, kids?❞ Marty asks as Ellie breaks the long hug with her father. ❝We've got the spare rooms and it'd mean a lot to your mother and I.❞

❝I'm sorry, Dad,❞ Ellie starts, and to her credit, she does look genuinely upset. ❝But Dan and I are travelling in the morning since this is my last open vacation for a while and—❞

❝And I've got to be in by five,❞ Emmett says, ❝to make sure these bojos don't screw something up. We open Saturday.❞

Marty sighs and moves to give his son a hug, patting him twice on the back. ❝I know, I know. You're adults now with your own lives. I just miss you.❞

Ellie pouts. ❝It's not like you never see us, Dad. You can call on the vidphone anytime you want.❞

❝No, no, I get it,❞ Marty says, a hint of a smirk ticking up the corner of his lips, ❝it's not cool to be hanging out with your parents anymore.❞ Before either of the kids can protest, Marty laughs. ❝Have a safe trip, Ellie.❞

❝El, Dad, El. Ellie's such a kid name.❞

❝And you're still my kid.❞ She groans dramatically and drops the point there, knowing there's no arguing with her father on this.

❝Break a leg this weekend, Emmett.❞ Marty nods at his son who smiles.

Both kids shuffle towards the door in an awkward line, reaching over each other to grab bags and sweaters. ❝And would you actually use the gift we got you?❞

Marty glances over his shoulder to the small box and envelope on the living room table and puts a hand on his hip.

❝Hey, I'm only fifty-seven! And I still look good for my age.❞ Apart from the soft age lines typical of a man in his late fifties and his greying hair, Marty still manages to carry a youthful energy tempered some by wisdom and experience. ❝I don't need to start thinking about that yet. Ask me again when I'm sixty-five.❞

Ellie makes a disapproving sound as her brother shoves her out the door and as the door slams shut behind them, leaving behind a deafening silence, Marty lets out a breath and shakes his head. He makes his way over to the couch and plops down, reaching for the piece of paper on top of the old-school birthday card.

A voucher for your first rejuvenation.

❝Really, those kids. What, do they think I'm gonna die tomorrow or something?❞

Before he can finish his thought, there's an urgent knock on the door in a sharp staccato rhythm that causes him to purse his lips. That sounds familiar, Marty thinks, but neither of the kids knock like that when they come over.

❝I'm coming!❞ he shouts, dropping the voucher back on the table without a care as to where it lands. He makes it halfway toward the door when the person on the other end knocks again in the same precise rhythm, causing Marty to grumble under his breath.

Whatever he had prepared to say when the door swung open immediately dies in his throat when the perpetrator's identity is revealed. Marty's eyes are blown wide, so much so they're in danger of falling out of his head. His breath catches in his throat and he would swear that, in that moment, he looks more like a fish gasping for air than a person.

❝Doc,❞ he breathes out when he finally remembers how to, and when the rest of his senses return, Marty barrels into his friend, capturing him in a tight hug which, after a second, he returns with the same warm affection Marty has always associated with him.

❝Doc, it's been—❞

Emmett immediately shakes his head, removing a hand from around Marty to hold it up, palm out. Stop. ❝Don't tell me, Marty. I don't know yet and I don't want to know.❞

Marty nods. ❝Right, yeah, future knowledge. But God, Doc, I missed you so much. What are you doing here? Why now? What's going on?❞ Before an endless stream of questions can spill from Marty's mouth, Emmett silences him again.

❝I have the answer to all your questions right here.❞ Emmett lets go to dig through the inner pocket of his overcoat. He produces a small rectangular gift bound in silver paper and hands it over to a very confused looking Marty.

❝Happy birthday, Marty,❞ he says, pushing the gift into his hands. ❝I've kept this secret from you for almost...forty years and now that it's completed, I figured this was as good a time as any to give it to you.❞

❝You came f—all these years into the future just to give me this? What is it?❞

❝I suppose the act of giving wrapped gifts must be obsolete by now if you're asking me what to do with a gift,❞ Emmett says, smirking. Marty gives him a look that very clearly says, you know that's not what I meant, Doc, but flips the gift over in his hands anyway.

Printed in what is unmistakably Emmett's handwriting is 'Do not open until June 12, 2025,' and Marty snorts at the familiar irony of it all.

Questions are clearly written in the lines of Marty's face and before he can even ask them, Emmett says, ❝Forty years is a long time for you to have seen results on this; you may not even remember insisting I do it, but I took your request to heart.❞

Marty's fingers curl around the edges of the gift. ❝Tell me you're at least going to stay for a little while, Doc. Come in, I'll grab Jen a-and—❞

To Marty's dismay, Emmett shakes his head. ❝I'm afraid I can't stay much longer; this was only intended to be a short stop, but I'm so glad to see you, Marty. You look well and I always knew that your future was going to be bright.❞

❝But Doc, there's so much I want to tell you. Jen and I, the kids—❞

❝Yes, I saw young—well, I suppose they're not young anymore; they've grown into fine adults.❞

❝What about Jules and Verne? And Clara? Are you going to see them while you're here?❞

Again, Emmett shakes his head. ❝No, that wouldn't be wise. Besides, I—❞ A high-pitched alarm screeches from Emmett's watch and he jumps, abandoning his train of thought as his eyes widen. ❝Damn! I'm late!❞

Marty blinks. ❝I'm sorry, Marty, I have to get going.❞ Emmett quickly pulls him into a crushing hug and Marty takes a moment to bury his face in his old friend's shoulder while he still can. ❝I think you'll find you have your hands full for a while with your gift. At the risk of repeating my past self, I'll leave you with these parting words: I'm proud of you.❞

Emmett pats his arms once before hurrying off. Marty stands there, dumbstruck, watching as his old friend climbs into a '76 Chevy Aerovette that he knows is the DeLorean in perfect disguise.

He stands there for some time even after the car and Emmett are well out of sight, gone back to whatever point in time he departed from to get here. Marty hugs the gift to his chest and quietly shuts the door, walking in a half-daze to the couch.

The clock reads 00:09 and Marty tears the paper off his gift.

It looks like a journal, but as Marty inspects it closer, he notices that the edges are worn from years of touch, there's a faint coffee stain on one of the corners, and the journal is at least double the size it started, torn apart and re-bound in a way that looks like it's ready to fall apart at any moment.

A piece of paper falls out from behind the cover, landing on Marty's lap.

First, let me tell you in writing, Happy Birthday, Marty. I expect I will have told you in-person as I delivered your gift, but one can never be wished well enough on their birthday.

By the time this gift finds you, I will have passed. If you ask why I chose to wait until this particular date of June 12, 2025 to present it to you, I'm afraid all I can say is that it felt right. As I do not know the precise date of my passing and have no intention of learning this information prematurely, I can only hope that enough time has elapsed where my delivering this to you will not open too fresh a wound.

But that is not the focus of this letter, nor do I intend to make it such.

You have always believed in me, Marty, even when nobody else has, and the enthusiasm with which you begged me to write this could not go ignored. So this is what I have been working on for the last several years with the knowledge that it would one day find its way to you.

You have been the greatest friend I could have asked for, and I hope that you will remember me fondly, even after some of the things you read here. This first-hand account of my life is yours to do with as you please, and I have been as detailed as circumstances will allow me to be. You will find no instructions for how to re-create the time machines within, though I do mention their existence in order to accurately recount our travels together.

I am proud to have called you my friend and just know I have treasured all of our years together.

'Doc' Emmett L. Brown

Marty blinks furiously against the tears welling up in his eyes. ❝God, Doc, you never change... I didn't think you'd actually do it.❞ The book weighs a ton in his hand and makes his chest weigh just as much.

The weight of his best friend's life story...

The journal's spine cracks as he opens it and there, in black ink, is something that threatens more tears.

For Marty, My partner across space-time. For Clara, Jules, and Verne, Who have made me the luckiest man to have ever lived.

He flips to the first page.

Every story follows a pattern. You start at the beginning, proceed through the middle, and then eventually reach the finale, in which everything wraps up, for better or for worse. A life story is no different, though the steps taken to reach said finale vary wildly between each individual.

So, as stories go, it is only fitting this one starts at the beginning.

❝Jen! Jen, you've gotta come down here! I just got a birthday present from the Doc!❞

#doctober 2023 #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」#so if you've read my carrd you'll know that i've presented doc's backstory in the form of an autobiography #which marty has insisted he write and more so after the temporal experiment's resounding success because #as he put it - every great scientist has an autobiography and marty is determined that #doc get the respect and recognition that he deserved #so doc agreed with the caveat that he would deliver it to marty on a future birthday likely after he'd already passed #doc is going to live to 100 years old easy with the rejuvenation and such but #he won't live forever. remember that he's technically *seventy-five* (four? eh depends on timeframe) when he returns from being in the past #since 9-10 years have passed for him despite no time passing for marty. he also doesn't want to live forever #and i've chosen to interpret rear-view mirror in the sense of looking back on the past #now through the book doc has gifted to him

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