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Being a part of the McFly family’s lives in the changed timeline was certainly preferable to the lonely existence Doc had known until 1955. George and Lorraine had grown as fond of him as Marty had, and that didn’t change as they married and started a family; Doc had been part of the wedding and the subsequent birthdays of first Dave and then Linda—and then Marty himself once he was born.
Doc’s initial fears of the repercussions of this changed timeline were overridden when, soon after Marty’s birth, George had requested—with Lorraine’s enthusiastic support—that Doc be Marty’s godfather.
He had remembered the older Marty’s explanation of how his frustrations with his parents in the original timeline had driven him to spend time away from home—which had led to him falling in with Needles’s gang, which, in turn, had led to Marty being dared to break into his garage, which was how they had apparently met.
But how could he refuse George’s request? The author had even defied his own pastor to appoint Doc as Marty’s godfather—a gesture that had moved Doc more than he could admit.
And, anyway, this was his chance to repay the older Marty for giving him the hope and reassurance that his time machine would eventually be made and work—to say nothing of the warning letter that Doc had eventually taped back together.
And so, Doc had accepted. And while George had certainly been genuine in wanting Doc to be Marty’s godfather, Doc was beginning to suspect there had also been a bonus ulterior motive, which was for George and Lorraine to insist that he spend less time in that drafty garage he called home, and more time in the McFly family home at the Lyon Estates—for Marty’s sake, of course.
And so, Doc found himself as a frequent guest in the McFly home—to the point that the McFlys were considering him a part of it. And as the months went by, Doc began to see the older Marty’s personality beginning to crystalize in the infant.
It was on one such occasion that Doc had been a guest at Lyon Estates that something truly ironic happened.
Marty was 8 months old at the time, and had been bothered by a cold—a bug that had been going around, as bugs were prone to do. Dinner had just finished up, and Marty was still in his high chair—and George and Lorraine were attempting the nigh-impossible task of getting Marty to take his cold medicine. And Marty had enough experience with the cherry-red liquid to know that he did not like it.
Though limited in his vocabulary, Marty had let out a loud whine of refusal as Lorraine brought the little spoon of medicine to his face, squirming around as best as he could in the high chair to put as much distance as he could between himself and the medicine.
George, concerned that Marty was somehow going to squirm right out of his seat, immediately stepped forward to remove him from it, and hold him still in midair long enough for Lorraine to get the medicine into his mouth.
What followed was a stream of adamant and angry babbles and screeches from the boy who would, one day, grow up to have the vocabulary of a sailor, Doc realized, as he helped Dave and Linda clear the table. Another facet of Marty’s personality had just been crystalized.
Marty was still glaring at his mother and father with a look that implied he felt betrayed. With another sound of anger, Marty now reached out to Doc, clearly wanting to be carried by him.
Doc, who had just placed the dishes by the dishwasher, had to bite back a smile as George, exasperated, handed Marty over to him; Marty immediately wrapped his arms around Doc as tightly as he could, babbling some more in a tone that was clearly ranting.
“It was for your own good, Marty,” George sighed, as Lorraine shook her head. “How many more days is he supposed to take that medicine?”
“Two more, providing his symptoms continue to improve,” Lorraine informed him. “And it’s going to be a long two days, clearly.”
“You know, your dad’s right, Marty,” Doc said, gently. “I know you must be frustrated with how that medicine tastes, but your mom and dad are just looking out for you—just like I would.”
Marty’s face wrinkled into a disgusted expression at the mention of the medicine; he pointed in George and Lorraine’s direction and babbled angrily and intently again before resuming hugging Doc as tightly as he could.
And Doc could only chuckle at the irony of how, even in this timeline, Marty’s frustration with his parents had resulted in him turning to Doc for comfort—thankfully, under far better circumstances that they would eventually be able to look back on and all have a good laugh.
Time had a way of making some things constant, even after a major change. And he was grateful that this was one of those things.