When the Clock Strikes Twelve

::10::

   Later that night, the three friends stood in the Doc's house, getting ready for the festival.

   "Why did you say we were going to this thing anyways?" Marty asked Rosie as the two looked in the mirror, focusing on their respective hairstyles.

   "Look at Doc. He's so in love and he doesn't even know it yet," Rosie said, nudging Marty. He looked over and saw The Doc, humming to himself as he straightened out his jacket. Marty smiled to himself, then looked back at Rosie.

   "I know the feeling," Marty said, leaning down and kissing her lips. She smiled into the quick kiss.

   "I love it when you do that," she said. Marty smiled widely.

   "Then you should get used to it," he replied, moving his hands to her hips and pulling her into another, longer kiss.

Eventually, the three made it to the festival, not sure of what to expect. Arriving, they realized that Hill Valley had changed vastly in the future.

   "Ladies and gentlemen, as mayor of Hill Valley, it gives me great pleasure to dedicate this clock to the people of Hill County," the major said, receiving cheers from the crowd. "May it stand for all time! Tell me when, gentlemen."

   "Three-two-one! Now!" the crowd exclaimed against a drum roll. As the Battle Cry of Freedom played, the clock's pendulum swayed form side to side. A yellow firework went off, lighting up the night sky.

   "Let the festivities begin!"

   "Ya know kids, in a way, it's fitting that the three of us are here to witness this," Doc said, turning towards his friends. Marty looked up from where he was holding Rosie's hand in one, and the other in his pocket.

   "It's too bad I didn't bring my camera," Marty replied. A bright light flashed before their eyes, and the three thought of the same idea at the same time. They walked over to where the camera was set up in front of the clock.

   "Ready gentlemen, and ma'am?" The man behind the camera asked. The three stood professionally, ready for the flash.

   "The only problem is, we'll never be able to show it to anybody," Doc said. Marty shook his head.

   "Smile Doc," Marty replied. The loud noise that came with the flash sounded, and Rosie closed her eyes tightly afterwards. They all laughed as they moved further to the side. The lively people around them danced to the country style music.

   "What great music," Doc said.

   "Yeah! It's got a beat and you can dance to it," Marty replied.

   "Don't listen to him. Marty only listens to what his band plays," Rosie said. Marty laughed and poked her in the stomach.

   "Step right up, gentlemen, and test your mettle with the latest products from colonel Samuel Colt's Patent Firearms Manufacturing Company of Hartford, Connecticut," a man said, but Doc had tuned him out when he saw Clara. Rosie pulled on Marty's sleeve, directing his attention from the salesman to Doc.

   "Look," she said. Marty turned his head and smiled.

   "Looks to me like he really is in love," Marty said. Rosie leaned her head on his shoulder.

   "What's he gonna do when we leave?" She asked him. He shrugged the shoulder that she wasn't leaning on.

   "I don't know," he replied. The Doc was completely distracted by the woman he was watching. He gravitated towards her. The two made eye contact and smiled at each other. They walked closer as Emmett took his hat off.

"Good evening," he said with a small bow.

"Evening," she replied.

"You look very nice," Doc complimented.

"Thank you," she responded. A small moment of awkward silence followed. Doc swayed from side to side as she clapped her hands nervously.

"Would you like-," he said, gesturing towards the dance floor. "Would you care to-to-uh."

"I'd love to," she replied, taking his arm. Marty and Rosie watched a man behind them, not focusing on their friend.

   "Young man, how 'bout you? You want to give it a try?" He asked, referring to the game behind him.

   "Uh, no, no. No, thanks. Hey Doc-," Marty said, turning around and seeing the two dancing in the middle of the floor.

   "Son? Sonny boy?" The man behind him taunted. Rosie watched between the two, nervously debating whether or not she should do something.

"The Doc can dance?" Marty asked himself.

"Son? Son," the man said, tapping Marty's arm. "Son! Hey. I just told you that even a baby can handle this weapon. Surely you're not afraid to try something that a baby can do."

   "Hey, I'm not afraid of nothin'," Marty said.

   "Here we go," Rosie whispered to herself, crossing her arms.

   "Well, come on then. Let's just step up here like a man," he said, dragging Marty away. He gave Rosie a pleading look.

   "I'll do it," Rosie said. The men looked at her, then began to laugh.

   "This isn't a woman's game," one said.

   "Well you just said a baby could do it. Why can't I?" Rosie said confidently. The men laughed once more.

   "Fine," the man who had dragged Marty forwards said. "We'll let the little lady have a chance."

   Rosie stepped towards the booth and they handed her a gun, listing the instructions as if she were a seven year old. Rosie purposely shot the gun above the booth as the men laughed.

   "Can I try that again?" She asked, and Marty smiled at her.

   "Yeah. Go on again," the man said cockily. Rosie confidently cocked the gun and pointed it at the cardboard cutouts, shooting the bullseyes each and every time. She flipped the gun a few times in her hand, before handing it back.

   "Yeah!" Marty cheered with a proud look plastered on his face.

   "Just tell me one thing. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" The man asked curiously.

   "7-Eleven," Rosie said with a shrug as Marty linked her arm in his.

   "What can we say? She's a crack shot at it," he said, leading her away.

   "Yes," she whispered proudly. Marty laughed.

   "Come on. I think someone owes me a dance," he told her.