When the Clock Strikes Twelve

::1::

Rosie and Marty struggled to get the unconscious Doc home. But still, they did it. The two brought him inside, and laid him on his couch. Marty sat on a chair, and Rosie sat on his lap as they dozed off. Even in his sleep, he had his arms wrapped protectively around her. She tucked her legs upwards, and he sprawled his out. The sun rose, and their shoes and jackets dried over the fire. The television static turned to a show called Buffalo Bob, which alerted Doc. He shot awake.

"Great Scott!" He said. He stood up and threw a robe on, moving towards the television. On his way, he kicked the hoverboard out from under Marty's feet, but didn't notice. Marty's feet fell to the ground. Doc turned the television set off and ran to his recorder. "Date: Sunday, November 13, 1955, 7:01 a.m. last night's time travel experiment was apparently a complete success. Lightning struck the clock tower at precisely 10:04 p.m., sending the necessary 1.21 gigawatts into the time vehicle, which vanished in a brilliant flash of light, leaving a pair of fire trails behind. I therefor assume that Marty, Rosie, and the time vehicle were transported forwards through time into the year 1985."

As Doc was speaking, Marty woke up. He moved to stretch, but felt Rosie in his arms. He smiled down at the girl who had her sleeping face tucked into his chest comfortably, and her hands gripping his shirt tightly.

"Hey princess," he whispered. "Time to wake up."

"Three more minutes," she whispered, burning her face deeper into his shirt. Marty kissed her head and she slowly looked up, giving him a smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied with a smile. She sat up and he followed, standing up and turning to see Doc recording his voice.

"In fact, I don't even remember how I got home," Doc continued. "Perhaps the gigawatt discharge, coupled with the temporal displacement fueled generated by the time vehicle, caused a distribution of my own brain waves, resulting in a condition of momentary amnesia. Indeed, I now recall that moment after the time vehicle disappeared into the future-."

"That's great and all Doc, but you're talking to yourself," Rosie said, she and Marty walking up behind him.

"Doc?" Marty said when he didn't reply.

"Undoubtedly, this was some sort of residual image-," he said, turning around. He saw the teenagers and screamed loudly. He stumbled back and stepped on the hoverboard, sending it flying forwards and falling back into the piano. Marty caught the hoverboard in his hands, and tossed it into the air.

"Doc, calm down, okay?" Rosie said as the two walked towards him.

"Just calm down it's me it's Marty," he said as they tried to talk to him.

"No! It can't be you! I sent you both back to the future!" Doc yelled, and Rosie turned around and set her hands on her hips, taking a deep breath. She turned back and pointed at Doc.

"That's right Doc. But we came back again. We came back from the future," Rosie said.

"Don't you remember last night? You fainted. We brought you home," Marty said.

"This can't be happening! You can't be here! It doesn't make sense for you to be here! I refuse to even believe you are here!" Doc exclaimed, moving about the house.

"So we are here, and it does make sense!" Marty exclaimed, throwing himself towards the door Doc had just close on them. Rosie shook her head.

"Look Doc. We came back to 1955 again with you, the you from 1985, 'cause we had to get a book from Biff. Once I got the book back, you-the you from 1985- were in the DeLorean and it got struck by lightning and you got sent back to 1885!" Rosie said as quickly as she could, losing her breath quickly. Marty stared at her and ran his hands through his hair.

"1885?" Doc said, and opened the door. "It's a very interesting story future kids, but there's one little thing that doesn't make sense. If the me of the future is now in the past, how could you possibly know about it?"

"You sent us a letter," Marty said, making direct eye contact with Doc, and taking the letter out of his pocket. Doc read it, and internalized the words. He walked around reading it, and Marty set Doc's failed mind reading machine on his head, making Rosie giggle. Marty took it off and wrapped his arms around Rosie as she tried to squirm away, laughing lightly. Doc finished reading.

"It actually flew?" He asked.

"Yeah. Well, you had a hover conversion done in the early 21st century," Marty said, separating from Rosie and grabbing her hand.

"Incredible," Doc said. "I set myself up as a blacksmith as a front while I attempt to repair the damage to the time circuits. Unfortunately, this proved impossible because suitable replacement parts will not be invented until 1947. However, I've gotten quite adept at shoeing horses and fixing wagons."

"Groovy," Rosie said, nodding along to the story. Doc dropped his arms to his sides.

"1885! Amazing! I actually end up as a blacksmith in the old west," Doc said.

"Pretty heavy, huh?" Marty said, putting his hands in his front pockets.

"I have buried the DeLorean in the abandoned Delgado Mine, adjacent to the old Boot Hill Cemetery as shown on the enclosed map. Hopefully, it should remain undisturbed and preserved until you uncover it in 1955. Inside, you will find repair instructions-My 1955 counterpart- that's me- should have no problem repairing it so that you both can drive it back to the future. Once you have returned to 1985, destroy the time machine. Destroy it?"

"Yeah, well, it's a long story Doc," Rosie said.

"Do not- I repeat- do not attempt to come back here to get me. I am perfectly happy living in the fresh air and wide-open spaces, and I fear that unnecessary time travel only risks further disruption of the space time continuum. And please take care of Einstein for me. Einstein?"

"He's your dog, Doc," Marty said. "Einstein. It's what you call your dog in 1985."

"I know the two of you will give him a good home." He gave instructions on how to take care of Einstein, and Rosie and Marty listened to the note they had already read, talking about the friendship between the young couple and the older man.