Clockwork, Steam, and Flux Capacitors

(After Dee's accidental trip to the Nexus and Doc's subsequent discovery of her, the two head back to the mini-Rift pocket and the Gauche. Doc gets Victor outside, introduces Dee as a new resident, and has Marty and Alice quickly PINpoint in. The following results:)

Dee: "Marty!"

Marty: "Whoa! Uh, hi kid."

Dee: "Hi." *all smiles* "Sorry, miss, I don't know your name."

Alice: "It's Alice. Nice to meet you." *curtsy*

Dee: "Nice to meet you too!"

Marty: "Er, Doc? Who is this?"

Victor: "Yes, you didn't properly explain before. Just that -- we have a new resident here?"

Doc: "Well, Marty, Victor, Alice -- this is Dee. She's -- well, she's my daughter-slash-time machine."
( Naturally, this requires a demonstration. . . )

(So yes, welcome to the family, Dee.)

Crossposted to dee_lorean81

“If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.” – Sarah (The Crow)

Even after seven months, there was still an ache deep in his heart. It had lessened with the passage of time, but it was still there. Still occasionally hitting him late at night, when there was no one and nothing else around to distract him. Marty’s gone.

Doc doubted it would ever fully go away. So many little things reminded him of the teen. Huey Lewis coming on the radio. A kid playing guitar on a street corner. Somebody saying the name as he passed by. And now, with this mysterious, impossible scrapbook here. . . . Much as he liked having something solid to remind him of the kid, rather than just memories, he couldn’t deny the gift had made the ache that much worse all during Christmas.

But in the end, Doc wasn’t sure he wanted the ache to go away. Because if it ever did go away – it would mean he’d forgotten Marty. Forgotten the kid who had become his best friend.

Forgotten the person who’d saved him.

So he let his heart ache a little. Because he wasn’t going to let those memories die. Because he wasn’t going to stop caring about – wasn’t going to stop loving – Marty, even with an entire reality between them.

Seen here: http://i34.tinypic.com/10e0gvm.jpg

It hadn’t looked like a jail cell.

In the beginning, it had been a place of wonder. A place where he could invent to his heart’s content, work on a project that seemed simply amazing. And if anything seemed surreal about it, anything out of place, he soon pushed it (had it pushed) from his mind.

Then came the operating table, and the cell door slammed shut amid screams of pain and blood and metal and bone and Hedgethorn and running running RUNNING

And for twenty years, he’d been locked inside. A prisoner of an old house with a too-large basement. A prisoner of a creature beyond human comprehension. A prisoner of his own amnesia.

It hadn’t looked like a jail cell.

But then, the worst ones seldom did.

Seen here: http://i29.tinypic.com/15plhet.jpg

I used to be a teacher. College-level, teaching applied physics at the freshmen level. I thought it would be a great career – molding young minds, setting them on their course, showing them the wonders of the universe.

Half of them never paid attention to me. They didn’t feel I had anything worth to say, apparently. Another quarter just did enough to get by. They scraped through the class with Cs and Ds. The rest actually put some effort in, but it was rare that I ever got a student I felt I truly connected to.
Of course, that came back and bit me on the ass, so to speak. Add in the debacle with dating Jill, the dean’s daughter, and –

Well, let it suffice to say that I never want to look inside a classroom again. Give me a good, well-lit laboratory any day. (With windows. Windows are a must.)

Seen here: http://i28.tinypic.com/qzm0rt.jpg

He’d never have to worry about Libyans or plutonium or nuclear power that made him squirm. He’d be able to summon 1.21 gigawatts for his time machine whenever it was needed.

He’d never have to worry about boredom. Time passes quickly when you can shape the very clouds in the sky to your whims.

He’d never have to worry about an outing being ruined by inclement weather. Just push it away in another direction.

He’d never have to worry about transportation. Summoning a wind to carry you was simplicity itself, once you learned how to land.

In fact, if he didn’t have to worry about getting soaked when he was upset, or possibly destroying a room (or a building) when he got angry – Doc might actually like his weather-control powers.