Ich Liebe Dich

A Back To The Future Story

By Flaming Trails

Disclaimer: I don't own Back To The Future. If I did, there would be a shrine to it in every major city.

Prologue

This is part of the 1955 series of stories. To fully understand it, you'll need to see what was cut from "Darth Vader" on the BTTF DVD. Lacking that, Marty escaped George's house after chloroforming him by means of Doc's car. This story picks up right at the end. Also, it could be kind of syrupy.

Tuesday, November 8th, 1955

Hill Valley, California

1: 39 A. M.

Marty McFly walked carefully along the awning under the second-floor windows, toward where Doc Brown was waiting for him in his '54 Packard. He tossed into the passenger seat his hood, then lowered himself into said seat with a bump. Doc looked at him nervously.

"How'd it go?"

"Great! That chloroform really knocked him out." Marty looked back toward George's window, where he had left his future father asleep half-out of the bed. "I hope we didn't overdo it."

Doc started his car and drove away as quietly as he could. "Overdo what? The alien persona, or the chloroform?"

"The chloroform. Can't that stuff kill people?" A shiver ran down Marty's spine as he wondered if he had accidentally killed George. That definitely wouldn't be good.

"Yes, but I don't think you could have overdone it. So long as you took the pad away as soon as he had achieved unconsciousness." Doc turned a corner. "What exactly did you say to him, kid?"

"Oh, I used every sci-fi reference I could think of."

"Sci-fi?"

"Short for science-fiction."

"Oh. Any that I would know?"

"I don't think so. I don't know much about 50s TV and movies, besides 'I Love Lucy'. And that can't be called sci-fi." Marty looked at Doc. "Do you think it'll work? My dad's really geeky, but I'm starting to have doubts. What if he thinks it was all a dream or something like that?"

"Then you'll just have to convince him otherwise. Make up some UFO story. But I can understand your concern. Sometimes what can scare us totally at night loses its fright value in the morning. And seeing how shy and unconfident your father is, you could have to urge him on."

"Yeah, I'll probably have to coach him every step of the way. But it'll be worth it if, just for once, he does something risky. You know, even in the 80s, my dad is the biggest wimp on the block. He's afraid to say no to anybody. He lets everyone push him around. You know Biff Tannen?"

"Rather intimately, I'm afraid," Doc sighed. "Just a month ago, he smashed three of my windows. And I couldn't get him or his parents to pay for the damage."

"Well, he's Dad's supervisor in the 80s. And he got there on Dad's skills! He does all of Biff's work for him, plus his own! And he still falls for Biff's lame practical jokes. The worst of it was on the day I left. He'd let Biff borrow the car, and he totaled it! While drinking! And Dad didn't say a word about Biff paying for it. Well, no, he did mention Biff's insurance, but that was more like him begging. Biff's got him paying for both the car and his cleaning bill! Doc, I needed that car. I was going to take Jennifer up to the lake, just the two of us. Maybe I should ask Dave if I can borrow his junker when I get back. . . ."

Doc was fascinated by this litany from Marty. It was like seeing that shy teenager from a whole different perspective, the voice of the future. "Can't you talk to your mother about all this?" he asked, wanting to hear what would happen to poor Lorraine in this scenario.

"Hell no. Mom doesn't like the fact that I go out with Jennifer in the first place. She always told me she was a pure maiden, who wasn't even interested in boys until she met Dad." A blush came unwanted to the teen's face. "That idea's gotten a bit of a shake-up, but still. . . . She drinks a lot in the future. Every time something difficult comes up, she'll reach for a bottle of vodka. It's a wonder any problems get solved in our house. Neither of my parents do anything. Hell, I'm surprised they managed to have three kids, much less raise them."

Doc was starting to feel sorry for the McFlys. "What about your brother and sister? Surely you can confide to them."

"Sort of. Dave's on the fast track to nowhere. He's been taking Dad's advice for way too long. He's got a job at a fast-food joint. And Linda is just whiny and weird. She couldn't make herself look attractive if her life depended on it." Marty paused. "I guess it's true about kids turning into their parents. Dave's a lot like Dad, and Linda's a bit like Mom. I guess I'm a little like Dad too. I threw away a demo tape and submission form just because I was afraid of being rejected." His mouth quirked into a smile. "I bet that's why I started hanging out with you."

"Now, Marty-" Doc began, a warning note in his voice.

"Chill, Doc. I'm not saying how we met. I'm saying why I stuck around. You'd be encouraging me to send in that tape and lecturing me on the evils of giving up."

"Well, it certainly seems you need a stronger father figure in your life."

"And you fit the bill perfectly." Marty leaned back against the seat, feeling extremely tired. "Man, I'm going to have a hell of a time getting up in the morning. Do I really have to go to school this week?"

"I'd prefer it if you did. It gives you something to do, and you can check your progress in your plans. You're going to have to talk to George tomorrow, and school would be the best place to do it." He pulled up to his garage.

"But what am I going to do? I can't go to classes. It would look freaky for some new kid to show up suddenly. I'm surprised nobody noticed us today."

"Yesterday," Doc corrected. "Today is Tuesday. And that was probably pure luck. If Strickland had caught us, he'd have demanded what we were doing in his school. Just do what you did yesterday - duck into any and every empty classroom. Nobody will notice you - most kids never notice their classmates. Unless they're shy, or unconfident, or - or exceptionally smart and rich," he ended with a sigh.

Marty glanced at Doc. He knew very little about Doc's childhood. He almost never asked about it, and Doc never volunteered any information. He couldn't help but wonder what Doc had been like at his age. "You don't talk much about yourself in the future. What could I have expected if I'd accidentally bumped into you when you were 17?"

"A very lonely kid almost out of college," Doc said briefly. He didn't enjoy discussing his childhood. It brought back too many painful memories.

"College?! Jesus, Doc, that means you were bumped up four grades!"

"Yes. I was practically ready for college by the age of ten, but the community already frowned on a child in the 5th grade when he was the age of those in the first. It wasn't - natural, to them. To anyone. People thought I was some sort of-"

"Freak," Marty finished, feeling sad. "They're wrong, Doc. You're a genius, not a freak."

"Humph," Doc replied. "If I'm so smart, why don't any of my inventions work?"

"You're ahead of your time! You build such cool stuff, Doc. You built an automatic petter and backscratcher for Einie that worked terrifically."

"I bet too terrifically," Doc said. He shut off the idling engine and looked at the teen. "We're a couple of misfits, aren't we? You the odd one out in your family, and I was the odd one out in mine."

Marty just shrugged. "I never thought about it that way. You were just always someone who was there for me, more than my family ever was. Hell, you still are, right now. 'Cause here in '55, I don't even have a family." He opened his door. "Let's head up to the house, I really gotta crash."

Tuesday, November 8th

3: 47 A. M.

Doc Brown awoke to the sound of static on his TV screen. He blinked groggily, wondering where he was and why he wasn't in bed at this ungodly hour.

Then he felt something squirm against him, resting part of its weight against his chest. Looking down, he saw Marty curled up next to him, his head resting against his chest, snoring softly. He was still dressed in his radiation suit, and a blanket was draped sloppily over them both.

Doc smiled. Now he remembered. They had come back to the house, he had plopped down on the couch to check Marty's photograph with the teen, and then. . . . Well, he must have fallen asleep. It had been a tough day for both of them, as well as an extremely long one. Marty must have followed him into the land of dreams shortly after, pulling the blanket over himself as he did so.

Marty squirmed again, trying to push his head into Doc's chest. Doc's smile brightened. There was something extraordinarily comforting in having Marty asleep against him. As if-

As if they were family.

Doc thought back to Marty's gripes about 1985 and the McFlys in the car. According to him, none of them had turned out right except himself. True, this was a perception colored by the idea of teenage perfection (although Marty had shown a little humility), but Doc could easily see George not developing emotionally, staying a nervous, despairing man well into his 40s. Lorraine's transformation was a bit harder to picture, but then maybe being married to a shy, despairing man could drive anyone to drink. Or to an affair, even though Marty hadn't mentioned that. It certainly didn't seem an ideal environment for a kid to grow up in.

Doc found himself absently stroking Marty's hair. He glanced down to see if he had disturbed the teen's sleep. It appeared he had done just the opposite - stilled him. He wonder if he ever did this in the '80s, if Marty ever fell asleep against him like this. It would be nice to have this peacefulness to look forward to. This closeness.

He sighed, then surprised himself by feeling a pang of jealousy toward George and Lorraine. They were destined to become undesirable, if not exactly unfit, parents, not inspiring any strong emotions in anyone except pity. "I could do the job a lot better. I would encourage Marty, have him reach for his dreams. Tell him never to give up. Inspire by my example. God knows that I always wanted a family, a son of my own. Damn it, why did he have to be Marty McFly? Why not Marty Brown?"

A minute later, he chastised himself for thinking such mean thoughts. "Stop that. It's merely George's personality to be shy. He never had a chance, or took a chance, to be brave. And Lorraine's troubles are her own business. They raised their children the best they could, and I can't criticize them. I was never a father myself. And if Marty really had been my child, he would have been much different, I'm sure. Heck, he probably wouldn't even be Marty. Knowing me, I'd name my son Jules Verne."

Still, what Marty had said in the car indicated that he probably considered him more of a father than George. "You were always just someone who was there for me, more than my family ever was." It seemed a little sad that the teen had had to turn to someone known locally as the town crackpot to get a proper role model. To get a father.

And it also seemed a little sad that he had to rely on the inadequateness of another to get the son he'd always wanted.

He looked at Marty, sound asleep, obviously completely comfortable and happy. He felt his unhappy thoughts dissipate. It didn't really matter how he had gotten Marty. What mattered was that he had gotten him. "Ich liebe Dich, mein Sohn," he whispered, adjusting the blanket. "Who cares if you're a McFly. In my heart, you're mine."

A blush came to the scientist's face. Great Scott, that sounded so sappy. Perversely thankful Marty wasn't awake to hear him, he got comfortable again and went back to sleep.

A moment later, Marty opened his eyes. He had been awakened by Doc's voice, the strange language he was speaking not sinking in. "Ich liebe Dich? What the heck does that mean?"

He glanced up at Doc's sleeping form. Should he wake the scientist and ask him? Marty shook his head. Nah. Doc was probably overly exhausted from having to deal with him and his problems. And maybe there had been a reason for him to speak in that funny tongue. Maybe he hadn't wanted Marty to hear what he had said.

The teen ran through the phrase in his head. "Ich liebe Dich, mein Sohn," he thought. "Well, mein Sohn sounds like 'my son'. My son? Doc doesn't have any kids. Unless. . . .

"Unless he was referring to me."

As that thought entered his brain, Marty felt a warm feeling wash over him. Even though George McFly was technically his father, and if he didn't hook up with Lorraine, Marty would cease to exist, ever since he had known Doc, he had felt his scientist friend was better suited to the role. He always knew what to say to cheer him up or encourage him. And his revelation on his 15th birthday that Marty was the first true friend he'd ever had had served to make them even closer. In fact, shortly before the fateful day of October 26th, Marty had accidentally called Doc 'Dad'. At least, he had convinced himself it was an accident, but lately he'd been thinking it might be one of those Freudian slips. After all, stuck here in '55, Doc was his only family, and frankly he was doing a better job than George and Lorraine.

But what could "Ich liebe Dich" mean?

It occurred to Marty that Doc could have been speaking German. He had told him once that his family had been from Germany, and so he was fluent in the language. He had even had an English-German dictionary. Did he still have it in 1955? It seemed likely - Doc was a packrat to the extreme.

Slowly, Marty eased himself off the couch and headed for Doc's library room. It took a moment of searching, but eventually he found the dictionary, looking worn and tattered. Marty looked up the words, taking a few tries as he sounded out the words. Finally, he found what he was looking for. 'Ich' meant 'I', 'liebe' meant 'to love', and 'Dich' (strangely spelt with a capital D) meant 'you'. "Ich liebe Dich, mein Sohn," Marty sounded out. "I love you, my son."

Doc of 1955 had known him for three days, and he loved him. That meant Doc of 1985 had to love him too. He had never said so, but Marty knew. He loved Doc too, but it would feel strange for him to say "I love you." That was something you said to your parents or your girlfriend, not your best friend. Doc had seemingly felt the same way, or respected Marty's uneasiness about the whole thing. But now, it appeared there was a way to say it without feeling quite so strange.

Smiling, Marty flipped through the pages and located another word. He replaced the book silently and headed back to the sleeping Doc. He settled down in exactly the same position as before, listening to Doc's heartbeat. As he closed his eyes, he whispered back, stumbling a little over the pronunciation, "Ich liebe Dich, Vater."

I love you, Father.

The End

I know it's sappy, so I'm willing to hear suggestions on how to improve this.