You're Alive
By Ael L. Bolt

Rating: PG for swearing and violence
Genre: General/Drama
Characters: Marty, Doc
Summary: Two short, linked fics. Both Doc and Marty get shot at separate times in canon, but what were they thinking at the time? First person POV.

Disclaimer: Back to the Future and its sequels belong to Universal Studios...although I REALLY want a DeLorean! Damn them for not making 'em anymore.

Author's Notes: I know there are a few individuals who believe in Marty/Doc slash, but I am not one of them. I've always thought their father/son dynamic was absolutely brilliant, and that's all you'll ever see from me. For those who like slash, I suppose I can't stop you from reading too much into this, but it was not intended to be such.

SPOILER WARNING: If you have not seen the first movie, do NOT read this fic until you have. Damos, this means YOU. :-P

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Part I – See You Soon, Marty

"I'll draw their fire!"

"Doc, wait!"

Thirty years ago, when I taped Marty's letter back together, I thought I'd be prepared for this. I purchased a bulletproof Kevlar vest at the beginning of the year, not knowing if I'd have time later in the year. Despite my caution, however, I'll be the first one to admit that I'm scared out of my wits.

Especially considering my damn gun isn't loaded.

The Libyan terrorist bares his teeth at me in a mocking grin, and I throw my gun away. If Marty was right... I stare down the barrel of the machine gun. Is this the end? Were my precautions enough?

The terrorist squeezes the trigger, and I feel like I've been kicked in the chest. Pain blossoms along my ribs, and I collapse to the pavement behind the truck.

"NO! BASTARDS!"

No, Marty! I told you to run for it! I lay still, and I hope to God the terrorists think I'm dead. I can hear Marty running around the front of the truck. The van tires squeal as they drive to the other side of the truck and abruptly the footsteps stop. My heart stops temporarily in terror for Marty's life. Have I accidentally caused something I shouldn't have? If Marty dies, I'll have created a paradox and lost a good friend to my own recklessness. Please, Marty, run...

Several moments pass before I hear the empty clicking of a jammed weapon, and Arabic curses flow from the terrorist's mouth. Marty's frantic footsteps start up again, and the sound of a car door slamming echoes across the parking lot like a gunshot.

Oh, bad analogy. Don't think about being shot. I still couldn't move if I wanted to; it still hurts and I can't breathe. From the corner of my eye I can see the DeLorean quickly picking up speed, with the Libyans close behind.

The engine revs louder, and flashes of blue light reflect off the pavement. There's a triple sonic boom, then a loud crash. Bon voyage...see you soon, Marty.

Footsteps come up behind me, and terror strikes. The Libyans have come back to finish me off! I'm so sorry, Marty...

"Doc! Doc!" A hand turns me over onto my back, and I force myself not to blink or react in any way. It doesn't sound like a terrorist, though...

"Oh, no..." a very familiar voice whispers in grief. It can't be...can it?

I blink and slowly sit up as quietly as I can. Sure enough, Marty is turned away from me, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he's crying. How did he make it here so fast? He must've seen me get gunned down – again, from his perspective. He thinks I'm dead...

Marty turns towards me again, and his eyes widen in disbelief. He even scoots back a few inches as if I was a ghost...and I suppose, to him, I very well might be.

"You're alive!" he says hoarsely, as if he can't believe his eyes.

Smiling slightly, I reveal my Kevlar vest. I feel a strange chill as I see the splashes of silvery metal that used to be bullets. If not for Marty's warning, those may very well have gone through my body.

"Bulletproof vest," Marty breathes in amazement. He reaches out as if to touch the bullets, but draws back again. "How did you know? I never got a chance to tell you."

I hand him the letter he wrote in 1955, and he glances at me suspiciously as he takes it. Go ahead, Marty...I know exactly what you're going to say, and I've had thirty years to think of what to tell you.

"About all that talk about screwing up future events, the space time continuum?" His voice wavers as he speaks. I suspect he hasn't fully realized what's just happened yet, because he's still eying me like I'm going to vanish.

I grin. "Well, I figured...what the hell."

Marty stares at me in surprise, and abruptly hugs me. The poor boy probably thought he'd never see me alive again, and I hug him just as tightly as he begins to cry again. "God, Doc," he chokes out, "the last week has been absolute hell. I thought..."

"I know," I say quietly. "I'm so sorry, Marty. I never meant for this to happen."

"You could've died," he sobs, and leans back to look up at me. "I've been having nightmares all week..."

"Well, I'm alive," I tell him. "Thank you, Marty. You saved my life."

For the first time since his return, he smiles slightly. "From the way you acted, I didn't think you wanted to be saved."

"I was young and stupid," I admit. "I should've trusted you to make the right decision, and you did." I release him from the hug, and he helps me to my feet. I don't need the help, really, but if it'll make him feel better I'll let him do it. "Now then, where's the DeLorean?" I ask.

Marty grins sheepishly. "Ah, it stalled out just past the courthouse."

"Good thing it didn't do that right before you had to leave," I comment casually, and he smirks. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," he says. "Come on, let's go get the DeLorean before it gets towed away. Or stolen."

I pause, and look at him. Something about his tone... "Why would it get stolen?" I ask.

"I, uh, kinda forgot to shut the door," he says, laughing nervously. "And I think the keys are still in the ignition."

"Great Scott!" I exclaim, and set off at a run for the road near the courthouse. Marty follows after a moment, and it takes us a few minutes to reach the DeLorean. Thankfully, it looks like no one has tampered with the vehicle despite the door being wide open. "Well, it appears that everything is in order," I report to Marty, who is leaning against the side of the car.

My young friend sighs in relief. "Thank God. You know, you should really get that starter fixed before you try going anywhere in it."

"Probably a loose connection," I say, and peer under the steering wheel at the exposed wires. "Aha!" Twisting two wires together, I turn the key in the ignition and the engine obediently roars to life. "Get in, Marty. We'll swing by the mall, take my truck back to the garage, and get you home."

Marty walks around the front of the car and hops into the passenger seat. I can't help but notice that he suddenly seems to be moving more slowly, as if he isn't feeling very well. "Are you all right?" I ask in concern.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, but he sounds a bit distracted. "Just really tired, I think. Didn't get much sleep over the past week, you know. That and I've been practically running on adrenaline all day, worrying myself silly over getting home and preventing you from...well..."

"I understand," I assure him as I put the DeLorean into first gear. "I definitely can't say I blame you. At least you don't have school today."

"Yeah," he agrees wholeheartedly. "It's just so good to be home again. What do you think we would've done if it hadn't worked?"

"No use dwelling on 'what if' scenarios," I say firmly. I don't want to admit to him that I probably would've kept him confined in my mansion until 1985 to keep him from further disrupting the timeline. Come to think of it... "That reminds me, Marty. Have you noticed any differences whatsoever since your return? Your very presence may have made some changes to what you knew before."

Marty grinned a bit sheepishly. "Ah, well, the mall used to be Twin Pines Mall."

"Twin Pines?" I repeat, glancing at him in confusion.

"I kind of ran over the second pine after crashing into Old Man Peabody's barn," the teen admits. "He got this crazy idea I was a space alien and was shooting at me, and I couldn't see where I was going until I'd already killed the tree."

I can't help but laugh at the thought. "So you're the reason why he kept ranting about aliens in his barn. I'd wondered about that. But other than that, you haven't seen any discrepancies?"

"Nah. I don't think I really did anything else that could screw up the timeline, besides making Biff crash into a manure truck. And making my parents meet under entirely different circumstances, of course."

We arrive at the mall once more, and I carefully place the box of plutonium in the trunk while Marty retrieves his skateboard. "Marty, would you mind driving the DeLorean back to my place?" I ask. "I know you're tired, but I need to take the truck back before trying to go to the future again."

"Yeah, no problem," the teen agrees, and quickly takes the wheel. It doesn't take long for us to get back to my garage. "It's kind of weird, not seeing that mansion of yours anymore," Marty muses as I resume my place in the driver's seat. Einstein jumps up on Marty's lap but the teen doesn't seem to notice much.

"Not as strange as spending the past seventeen years watching you grow up and knowing this would happen to you one day," I counter with a small smile. "I was scared to death that I would befriend you at the wrong time, creating a major paradox. Apparently things worked out for the best."

"Yeah," Marty agrees as we turn off onto his street. "Everything's back to normal. It's great."

I bring the DeLorean to a stop right outside of his house, and he gets out. "About how far ahead are you goin'?"

"About thirty years," I say with a grin. "It's a nice, round number." And turnabout is fair play, I tell myself. At least he'll be forewarned of my arrival through his own past. See you soon, Marty.